Rex Stout: The Cop Killer

Cramer grunted. “Okay, you’re here. You won’t leave your place on business for anybody or any fee, but you’re here. And you’re not going to leave until I know why, without any such crap as murderers in your front room.”

“Not as short behind as last time,” Wolfe commanded.

“Yes, sir.” Jimmie had never had as big or attentive an audience and he was giving a good show. The comb and scissors flitted and sang.

“Naturally,” Wolfe said tolerantly, “I expected that. You can badger me if that’s what you’re after, and get nowhere, but I offer a suggestion. Why not work first? Why don’t we see if we can settle this business, and then, if you still insist, go after me? Of would you rather harass me than catch a murderer?”

“I’m working now. I want the murderer. What about you?”

“Forget me for the moment. You can hound me any time. I would like to propose certain assumptions about what happened here today. Do you care to hear them?”

“I’ll listen, but don’t drag it out.”

“I won’t. Please don’t waste time challenging the assumptions; I don’t intend to defend them, much less validate them. They are merely a basis of exploration, to be tested. The first is this, that Wallen found something in the car, the car that had killed two women — no, I don’t like it this way. I want a direct view, not reflections. Jimmie, turn me around, please.”

Jimmie whirled the chair a half-turn, so that Wolfe’s back was to the mirrored wall, also to me, and he was facing those seated in the chairs against the partition, with Cramer on his right and Purley on his left.

“That right, sir?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

I spoke up. “Ed isn’t here.”

“I left him in the booth,” Purley rumbled.

“Get him,” Wolfe instructed. “And Miss Stahl, where is she?”

“In her booth, lying down. With her head.”

“We want her. She can sit up, can’t she?”

“I don’t know. God only knows.”

“Archie. Bring Miss Stahl.”

He had a nerve picking on me, with an inspector and a sergeant and three dicks there, but I postponed telling him so and went, as Purley went for Ed. In the booth Janet was still on her back on the chairs, her eyes wide open. At sight of me she fired immediately.

“You said you were going to send a reporter, but I’ve been thinking—”

I raised my voice to top her. “Listen to me, girlie. You’re getting a break. Nero Wolfe is here with a suggestion and wants your opinion of it. Can you sit up a while?”

“Certainly I can, but—”

“No buts. He’s waiting for you. Shall I carry you?”

“Certainly not!” She started up.

“Take it easy.” I put an arm behind her shoulders and got her upright and then onto her feet. “Are you dizzy?”

“I’m never dizzy,” she said scornfully and moved. I kept hold of her arm. She was a little unsteady on the way down the aisle to the end of the partition, but when we came in view of the audience she shook me off and went on solo. She wasn’t taking help from a man, and of course I wasn’t her manager yet. She took the chair I had vacated when Wolfe appeared, next to the magazine table. Ed had been brought by Purley, who was back in Philip’s chair, flanking Wolfe. I returned to the stool.

Jimmie had finished above the ears and was doing the back, so Wolfe’s head was tilted forward.

“Your assumptions?” Cramer asked impatiently.

“Yes. I was saying, the first is that Wallen found something in the car that led him to this shop. It couldn’t have been something he was told, for there was no one to tell him anything. It was some object. I asked you not to challenge me, but I didn’t mean to exclude contradictions. If there are facts that repudiate this assumption, or any other, I want them by all means.”

“We made that one without any help.”

“And it still holds?”

“Yes.”

“Good. That’s fortunate, since all of my assumptions concern that object. The second is that Wallen had it with him when he came here. I can support that with sound—”

“You don’t need to. We made it and we hold it.”

“Very well. That saves time. Not too short back there, Jimmie.”

“No, sir.”

“The third is that he had the object inside the newspaper he was carrying. This is slenderer, but it must be tested. He had not bought the paper shortly before coming here, for it was an early edition of the News, on sale last evening, not on sale this morning. It was not merely stuffed in his pocket, not merely not discarded; he had it in his hand, not folded up, as it is stacked on the newsstand. It is—”

“You know a lot about it,” Cramer growled.

“Do me later,” Wolfe snapped. “I know nothing you don’t know. It is difficult to account for his carrying a stale newspaper in that manner except on the assumption that it was a container for some object — at least, the assumption is good enough to work on. The fourth is that, whatever the object was, the murderer got it and disposed of it. More than an assumption, that is. No object that could have led him to this shop was found on Wallen’s person or in the booth, so if he had it the murderer got it. The fifth assumption is that the murderer was neither Carl nor Tina. I shall—”

“What the hell!” Purley blurted.

“Ah,” Cramer said. “Tell us why.”

“No. I shall not support that assumption; I merely make it and submit it to our test. Don’t waste time clawing at me. Since Carl and Tina are not involved and therefore didn’t take the object away with them, it is still here in the shop. That is the sixth assumption, and it is good only if your surveillance of these people here all these hours has been constant and alert. What about it? Could any of them have removed such an object from the shop?”

“I want to know,” Cramer demanded, “why you’re excluding Carl and Tina.”

“No. Not now.” Wolfe and Cramer couldn’t see each other because Jimmie was in between, starting on the top. “First we’ll complete this test. We must know whether the object has been removed, not by Carl or Tina.”

“No,” Purley said.

“How good a no?”

“Good enough for me. No man has stepped outside this shop alone. Something could have been slipped to a customer, but that’s stretching it, and we’ve had them under our eyes.”

“Not, apparently, the one who assaulted Miss Stahl.”

“That was in the shop. Is that a point?”

“I suppose not. Then we assume that the object is still here. The seventh and last assumption is this, that no proper search for such an object has been made. I hasten to add, Mr. Stebbins, that that is not a point either. You and your men are unquestionably capable of making a proper search, but I assume that you haven’t done so here on account of Carl and Tina. Thinking them guilty, naturally you thought they wouldn’t leave an incriminating object behind them. However, I can just ask you. Have you searched thoroughly?”

“We’ve looked.”

“Yes. But granting all my assumptions, which of course you don’t, has there been a proper search?”

“No.”

“Then it’s about time. Mr. Fickler!”

Fickler nearly jumped out of his skin. He, like all the others, had been buried, intent on Wolfe’s buildup, and the sudden pop and crackle of his own name startled him. He jerked his head up, and I had never seen his pudgy face look so bloated.

“Me?” he squeaked.

“You run this place and can help us. However, I address all of you who work here. Put your minds on this. You too, Jimmie. Stop a moment and listen.”

“I can work and listen too.”

“No. I want full attention.”

Jimmie backed off a step and stood.