Роберт Голдсборо - Murder in E Minor

Wolfe scowled and shrugged. “In any event,” he said, “I evaluated these various grounds for hostility toward Milan Stevens. Each of the affected parties may well have had just cause for at least some degree of anger or bitterness, but is any one of these reasons sufficient to fuel a murder?” He looked around the room again, stopping at each face. “I think not. No, whoever ran that letter opener into Mr. Stevens’s back had to be driven by more deep-seated emotions — indeed, by an enmity far more intense than would have been generated because of his relatively innocuous acts of insensitivity and callousness.”

“Do you call it innocuous when one person tries to destroy the career of another?” It was Sommers’s voice.

“I’ll answer one question with another, sir. Would — or did — such an action toward you cause you to commit murder?”

Sommers turned from Wolfe’s gaze. “Of course not,” he said.

“Now, if I may continue,” Wolfe said. “Almost from the beginning, I realized that last Wednesday night’s violence probably took root some time ago, perhaps long before Mr. Stevens’s arrival in the United States. Had I been less sluggish and more visioned, I would have reached the truth earlier, but...” He raised his shoulders an eighth of an inch and dropped them.

“Before you start launching into Stevens’s life history, let’s get a little more basic,” Cramer snapped. “How do you explain Milner and the apartment building? Nobody else went in the front way, and the back door is locked from the outside.”

“If I may correct you,” Wolfe said, “the hallman says he didn’t see anyone else go in the front way. And I believe him. However, what if he was away from his post at some point during the evening?”

“Conjecture.” Cramer sneered.

“No, sir, not conjecture,” Wolfe retorted. “The hallman, Mr. Hubbard, was away from his desk — indeed, outside the building — for a period of perhaps ten or fifteen minutes. It was that absence that made possible the murderer’s unseen entry into the building.”

Everyone started talking at once, firing questions at Wolfe and at each other. “Please!” Wolfe said over the hubbub. “If I may go on.”

“You’d better back up what you’re saying,” Cramer said, “or I swear to God that you’ll be retired permanently this time.”

“I’ll be the one to decide when I retire, Mr. Cramer,” Wolfe said coldly. “And I’m quite capable of backing up what I say. It would be much simpler, however, without interruptions.” He leaned back and closed his eyes until all the chatter had stopped.

“Mr. Thomas Hubbard, the hallman in the building where the murder occurred, has an excessive fondness for... women of the streets, particularly redheaded ones. This is well-known along the block where he works — it’s even something of a joke among his fellow doormen and hallmen, as one of my agents found out on a visit to the block.

“Milan Stevens’s murderer also must have discovered this fact — it wouldn’t have been hard to do — and put it to use. A prostitute with red hair was located and was paid well to stroll into the building lobby, engage Mr. Hubbard in conversation, and entice him into a car that had been parked down the block expressly for this purpose. It was while the two of them were in the car and Mr. Hubbard was distracted that the murderer entered the building. This was before Mr. Milner was scheduled to arrive and after the doorman had gone off duty for the night, so the front of the building was unguarded. The murderer took a chance on being seen by some other tenant or visitor in the lobby or the elevator, of course. If someone had indeed happened along, the project could merely have been postponed and restructured in a different format; those determined to kill can always find opportunities. Mr. Stevens would have been puzzled by the arrival of Gerald Milner, but beyond that, the evening would have been uneventful.

“But the plan went as scheduled. No one was encountered in the lobby or elevator. The murderer took the elevator to Stevens’s floor and rang the bell. Stevens doubtless thought it strange that there was someone upstairs when the hallman hadn’t called from the lobby first, but he opened the door to his killer — after all, it was someone he knew well. That the stab wounds were in the back is additional indication of this.”

“Wait a minute,” Cramer cut in again. “This thing has more holes than the Mets’ infield. How did your hypothetical killer know when to go to the apartment and find Stevens home? And how did he avoid running into Milner?”

“I’ll try to fill in the holes, sir, if you’ll allow me. Everyone in this room probably knew of Milan Stevens’s schedule, at least to a degree. His practice was to spend Wednesday nights at home alone going over the scores for upcoming performances. And it was hardly a secret that Miss Radovich had dance rehearsals every Wednesday night, too. Also, the killer knew precisely when Gerald Milner would arrive, because it was the killer who wrote to him on Stevens’s own notepaper, asking that he come to the apartment at eight-fifteen.”

“This is ridiculous!” Hirsch said. “If Milan was already dead when Milner got there, who told the hallman to let him come up?”

Wolfe frowned and took a sip of beer. “This will be far simpler without interruptions. The murderer wrote the note — Stevens’s notepaper would be easily accessible to anyone in this room — asking that Milner go to his apartment. Then, the prostitute was contracted for, undoubtedly in advance. She lured Hubbard from the building at a prearranged time, probably about seven-forty-five, and the murderer went up unnoticed, was let into the apartment by Stevens, and killed him.

“The murderer didn’t leave immediately, but rather stayed in the apartment with the corpse, waiting for Mr. Milner’s arrival. When he got there promptly at eight-fifteen, Mr. Hubbard was back at his station in the lobby: The prostitute had been given specific instructions that he must be returned to his desk by no later than five after eight. Milner asked for Stevens, Hubbard dialed the number, and the murderer picked up the phone, probably mumbling something like ‘Have him come up’ — just a few words, not enough for Hubbard to be suspicious of the voice.

“The murderer, who knew the building well, then moved quickly, leaving the front door ajar to allow entry for Mr. Milner and his fingerprints. The killer then left by the back door of the apartment, taking the service elevator or the back stairway down, then exiting via the rear door and the gangway that runs alongside the building. There’s an iron gate to the street that’s locked from the outside, but anyone on the inside can open it merely by pushing the panic bar. So the murderer disappeared into the darkness, and Mr. Milner wandered into the apartment calling Mr. Stevens’s name, exactly as had been intended.

“The police have the rest of Mr. Milner’s story,” Wolfe said, looking at Cramer. “He discovered the body and, realizing he’d be the prime suspect, fled in alarm, leaving the apartment as he found it — except for his fingerprints — and leaving the front door open. His running away was a bonus for the real murderer, who probably thought Milner would call the police when he found the body. That he didn’t made things look even worse for him than they would have.

“In any case, Mr. Milner’s presence in the apartment had been definitely established. And the murderer further knew that because of the nature of Hubbard’s absence from the lobby, he, Hubbard, would never volunteer that he had been gone for a few minutes. Hubbard could be expected to state — as he did — that he was on duty all evening and that Milner was the only person who had asked to see Stevens.”