Rex Stout - The Second Confession

“That’s right.” Kane looked and sounded very earnest. “I was simply trying to be thoroughly honest about it, after behavior of which I was ashamed. If I had in me the kind of calculation you have described I didn’t know it.”

“I see.” Archer looked at the paper, folded it, and sat holding it. “How well did you know Rony?”

“Oh — not intimately. I had seen him frequently the past few months, mostly at the Sperling home in New York or here.”

“Were you on good terms with him?”

“No.”

It was a blunt uncompromising no. Archer snapped, “Why not?”

“I didn’t like what I knew of the way he practiced his profession. I didn’t like him personally — I just didn’t like him. I knew that Mr. Sperling suspected him of being a Communist, and while I had no evidence or knowledge of my own, I thought that the suspicion might easily be well founded.”

“Did you know that Miss Gwenn Sperling was quite friendly with him?”

“Certainly. That was the only reason he was allowed to be here.”

“You didn’t approve of that friendship?”

“I did not, no, sir — not that my approval or disapproval mattered any. Not only am I an employee of Mr. Sperling’s corporation, but for more than four years I have had the pleasure and honor of being a friend — a friend of the family, if I may say that?”

He looked at Sperling. Sperling nodded to indicate that he might say that.

Kane went on. “I have deep respect and affection for all of them, including Miss Gwenn Sperling, and I thought Rony wasn’t fit to be around her. May I ask a question?”

“Certainly.”

“I don’t know why you’re asking about my personal opinion of Rony unless it’s because you suspect me of killing him, not by accident, but intentionally. Is that it?”

“I wouldn’t say I suspect that, Mr. Kane. But this statement disposes of the matter with finality, and before I accept it as it stands—” Archer puckered his lips. “Why do you resent my questions?”

“I do not,” Kane said emphatically. “I’m in no position to resent questions, especially not from you. But it—”

“I do,” Sperling blurted. He had been restraining himself. “What are you trying to do, Archer, make some mud if you can’t find any? You said this morning it wasn’t the policy of your office to go out of the way to make trouble for men of my standing. When did you change your policy?”

Archer laughed. It was even closer to a giggle than it had been in the morning, but it lasted longer and it sounded as if he was enjoying it more.

“You’re entirely justified,” he told Sperling. “I’m tired and I was going on merely through habit. I also said this morning that if it was an accident no one would be better pleased than me but I had to know who was responsible. Well, this certainly should satisfy me on that.” He put the folded paper in his pocket. “No, I don’t want to make mud. God knows enough gets made without me helping.” He got to his feet. “Will you call at my office in White Plains tomorrow morning, Mr. Kane — say around eleven o’clock? If I’m not there ask for Mr. Gurran.”

“I’ll be there,” Kane promised.

“What for?” Sperling demanded.

“For a formality.” Archer nodded. “That’s all, a formality. I’ll commit myself to that now. I can’t see that any good purpose would be served by a charge and a prosecution. I’ll phone Gurran this evening and ask him to look up the motor vehicle statutes regarding an accident occurring on private property. It’s possible there will have to be a fine or suspension of driving license, but under all the circumstances I would prefer to see it wiped off.”

He extended a hand to Sperling. “No hard feelings, I hope?”

Sperling said not. Archer shook with Kane, with Wolfe, and even with me. He told us all that he hoped that the next time he saw us it would be on a more cheerful occasion. He departed.

Wolfe was sitting with his head tilted to one side, as if it needed too much energy to keep it straight, and his eyes were shut. Kane and Sperling and I were standing, having been polite enough to arise to tell Archer good-by, unlike Wolfe.

Kane spoke to Sperling. “Thank God that’s over. If you don’t need me any more I’ll go and see if I can get some work done. I’d rather not show up at dinner. Of course they’ll have to know about it, but I’d prefer not to face them until tomorrow.”

“Go ahead,” Sperling agreed. “I’ll stop by your room later.”

Kane started off. Wolfe opened his eyes, muttered, “Wait a minute,” he straightened his head.

Kane halted and asked, “Do you mean me?”

“If you don’t mind.” Wolfe’s tone wasn’t as civil as his words. “Can your work wait a little?”

“It can if it has to. Why?”

“I’d like to have a little talk with you.”

Kane sent a glance at Sperling, but it didn’t reach its destination because the Chairman of the Board had taken another piece of paper from his pocket and was looking at it. This one was unfolded, oblong, and pink in color. As Kane stood hesitating, Sperling stepped to Wolfe and extended his hand with the paper in it.

“You earned it,” he said. “I’m glad I hired you.”

Wolfe took the paper, lowered his eyes to it, and looked up. “Indeed,” he said. “Fifty thousand dollars.”

Sperling nodded, as I nod to a bootblack when I tip him a dime. “Added to five makes fifty-five. If it doesn’t cover your damage and expenses and fee, send me a bill.”

“Thank you, I’ll do that. Of course I can’t tell what expenses are still to come. I may—”

“Expenses of what?”

“Of my investigation of Mr. Rony’s death. I may—”

“What is there to investigate?”

“I don’t know.” Wolfe put the check in his pocket. “I may be easily satisfied. I’d like to ask Mr. Kane a few questions.”

“What for? Why should you?”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Wolfe was bland. “Surely I’m entitled to as many as Mr. Archer. Does he object to answering a dozen questions? Do you, Mr. Kane?”

“Certainly not.”

“Good. I’ll make it brief, but I do wish you’d sit down.”

Kane sat, but on the edge of the chair. Sperling did not concede that much. He stood with his hands in his pockets, looking down at Wolfe with no admiration.

“First,” Wolfe asked, “how did you determine that Mr. Rony was dead?”

“My God, you should have seen him!”

“But I didn’t; and you couldn’t have seen him any too well, since it was nearly dark. Did you put your hand inside and feel his heart?”

Kane shook his head. I wasn’t surprised he didn’t nod, since I had learned for myself that Rony’s upper torso had been in no condition for that test, with his clothes all mixed up with his ribs. That was how I had described it to Wolfe.

“I didn’t have to,” Kane said. “He was all smashed.”

“Could you see how badly he was smashed, in the dark?”

“I could feel it. Anyhow it wasn’t pitch dark — I could see some.”

“I suppose you could see a bone, since bones are white. I understand that a humerus — the bone of the upper arm — had torn through the flesh and the clothing and was extruding several inches. Which arm was it?”

That was a pure lie. He understood no such thing, and it wasn’t true.

“My God, I don’t know,” Kane protested. “I wasn’t making notes of things like that.”

“I suppose not,” Wolfe admitted. “But you saw, or felt, the bone sticking out?”

“I — perhaps I did — I don’t know.”

Wolfe gave that up. “When you dragged him across to the shrub, what did you take hold of? What part of him?”

“I don’t remember.”