Rex Stout - Before Midnight

Susan Tescher was a tough one. First Clock told me she was in conference. Then Clock said she wasn’t there today. I asked for Mr. Knudsen, the tall and bony one, but he had stepped out. I asked for Mr. Schultz, the tall and broad one, and he was engaged. I asked for Mr. Hibbard, the tall and skinny one, of the legal staff, and darned if I didn’t get him. I told him about the meeting, and who would be there, and said that if Miss Tescher didn’t come she might find herself tomorrow morning confronted with a fait accompli , knowing as I did that any lawyer would feel that a guy who used words like fait accompli was a man to be reckoned with. As I was starting to dial the Churchill number for another stab at Miss Frazee, the doorbell rang. I went to the hall for a look through the panel, then opened the door to the office. Apparently Wolfe hadn’t moved a muscle.

I announced, “Stebbins.”

He opened his eyes. “At least it’s better than Mr. Cramer. Bring him in.”

I went and unbolted the door, swung it wide, and said hospitably, “Hello there. We’ve been waiting for you.”

“I’ll bet you have.” He marched on by me, making quite an air wash, and on by the rack, removing his hat as he entered the office. By the time I attended to the door and caught up he was standing in front of Wolfe’s desk and talking. “... the copy of the contest answers that Goodwin made last Wednesday. Where is it?”

If you want to see Purley Stebbins at his worst you should see him with Nero Wolfe. He knows that on the record of the evidence, of which there is plenty, Wolfe is more than a match for him and Cramer put together, and by his training and experience evidence is all that counts, but he can’t believe it and he won’t. The result is that he talks too loud and too fast. I have seen Purley at work with different kinds of characters, taking his time with both his head and his tongue, and he’s not bad at all. He hates to come at Wolfe, so he always comes himself instead of passing the buck.

Wolfe muttered at him, “Sit down, Mr. Stebbins. As you know, I don’t like to stretch my neck.”

That was the sort of thing. Purley would have liked to say, “To hell with your neck,” and nearly did, but blocked it and lowered himself onto a chair. He never took the red leather one.

Wolfe looked at me. “Archie, tell him about the copy you made.”

I obliged. “Last Wednesday I went to the safe deposit vault with Buff, O’Garro, and Heery. They got the box and opened it. I cut the two envelopes open, one with the verses and one with the answers, and made copies on four sheets from my notebook. The originals were returned to the envelopes, and the envelopes to the box, and the box to the vault. I came straight home with my copies and put them in the safe as soon as I got here, and they’ve been there ever since and are there now.”

“I want to see them,” Purley rasped.

Wolfe answered him. “No, sir. It would serve no purpose unless you handled and inspected them, and if you got hold of them you wouldn’t let go. It would be meaningless anyway. Since Mr. Buff decided to tell about them we knew you would be coming, and if anything had happened to them Mr. Goodwin could have made duplicates and put them in the safe. No. We tell you they are there.”

“They’ve been there all the time since Goodwin put them there last Wednesday?”

“Yes. Continuously.”

“You haven’t had them out once?”

“No.”

Purley turned his big weathered face to me. “Have you?”

“Nope. — Wait a minute, I have too. An hour ago. Buff was on the phone and asked where they were, and Mr. Wolfe told me to take a look to make sure. I took them out and glanced over them, and put them right back. That was the only time I’ve had them out of the safe since I put them in.”

His head jerked back to Wolfe and he barked, “Then what the hell did you get ’em for?”

Wolfe nodded. “That’s a good question. To answer it adequately I would have to go back to that day and recall all of my impressions and surmises and tentative designs, and I’m busy and haven’t time. So I’ll only say that I had certain vague notions which never ripened. That will have to do you.”

Purley’s jaw was working. “What I think,” he said.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I said, what I think. So does the Inspector. He wanted to come, but he was late for an appointment with the Commissioner, so he sent me. We think you sent the copies of the answers to the contestants.” He clamped the jaw. He released it. “Or we think you might have, and we want to know. I don’t have to tell you what it means to this murder investigation, whether you did it or not — hell, I don’t have to tell you anything. I ask you a straight question: did you send copies of those answers to the contestants?”

“No, sir.”

“Do you know who did?”

“No, sir.”

Purley came to me. “Did you send them?”

“No.”

“Do you know who did?”

“No.”

“I think you’re both lying,” he growled. That was an instance. He was talking too fast.

Wolfe lifted his shoulders and dropped them. “After that,” he said, “conversation becomes pointless.”

“Yeah, I know it does.” Purley swallowed. “I take it back. I take it back because I want to ask a favor. The Inspector told me not to. He said if Goodwin typed those copies he wouldn’t have used his machine here, and he may be right, but I hereby request you to let me type something on that typewriter” — he aimed a thumb — “and take it with me. Well?”

“Certainly,” Wolfe agreed. “It’s rather impudent, but I prefer that to prolonging the conversation. I’m busy and it’s nearly lunch time. Archie?”

I pulled the machine to me, rolled some paper in, and vacated the chair, and Purley came and took it and started banging. He used forefingers only but made fair time. I stood back of his shoulder and watched him run it off:

Many minimum men came running and the quick brown fox jumped over the lazy moon and now is the time for all good men to come to the aid of the party 234567890-ASDFGHJKL: QWERTY UIOPZXCVBNM?

When he had rolled it out and was folding it I said helpfully, “By the way, I’ve got an old machine up in my room that I use sometimes. You should have a sample of that too. Come on.”

That was a mistake, because if I hadn’t said it I probably would have had the pleasure of hearing him thank Wolfe for something, which would have been a first. Instead, “Hang ’em on your nose and snap at ’em,” he told me, retrieved his hat from the floor beside his chair, and tramped out. By the time I got to the hall he had the front door open. He didn’t pull it shut after him, which I thought was rather petty for a sergeant. I went and closed and bolted it, and returned to the office.

Wolfe was at the bookshelves, returning Casanova and Dorothy Osborne and the others to their places. Since it was only ten minutes to lunch time, he couldn’t have been expected to get back to work. I stood and watched him.

“Apparently,” I said, “the rules have been changed, but you might have told me. It has never been put into words, but I have always understood that when you want to keep something to yourself you may choke me off with a smoke screen but you don’t tell me a direct lie. You may lie to others in my presence, and often have, but not to me when we’re alone. So I believed you when you said the contestants getting the answers in the mail was a surprise to you. I’m not griping, I’m just saying I think it would be a good idea to let me know when you change the rules.”

He finished slipping the last book in, nice and even with the edge of the shelf, and turned. “I haven’t changed the rules.”