Rex Stout - Trouble in Triplicate

Conroy Blaney squeaked at me, “What’s the idea?”

I grinned at him amiably. “A policeman named Cramer is in Mr. Wolfe’s office having a talk, and I thought maybe you had had enough of him for a while. Unless you’re tailing him?”

“Inspector Cramer?”

I don’t know how he did it. Basically and visibly he was a chinless bald-headed runt, and his voice sounded like a hinge that needed oil, but there was something in the way he said Inspector Cramer that gave the double impression that (a) there was a rumor going around that Cramer did not actually exist, and (b) that if he did exist Conroy Blaney could make him stop existing by lifting a finger if he wanted to. I regarded him with admiration.

“Yes,” I said. “Are you tailing him?”

“Good heavens, no. I want to see Nero Wolfe.”

“Okay, then follow me, and after we are inside, don’t talk. Get it?”

“I want to see Nero Wolfe immediately.”

“Will you follow instructions or won’t you? Do you also want to see Cramer?”

“Very well, open the door.”

As I inserted my key I was telling myself, murderer or not, I am going to be wishing this specimen was big enough to plug in the jaw before this is finished. He did, however, obey orders. I conducted him into the front room, the door connecting it with the office being closed, left him there on a chair, and went back by way of the hall.

“It can wait,” I told Wolfe. “The man from Plehn’s with the Dendrobiums.”

But a minute later Cramer was standing up to go. Knowing how suspicious he was, as well as how many good reasons he had had for being suspicious on those premises, and also knowing how cops in general love to open doors that don’t belong to them just to stick a head in, I escorted him to the front and let him out, then returned to the office and told Wolfe who the company was.

Wolfe frowned. “What does he want?”

“I think he wants to confess. I warn you, his squeak will get on your nerves.”

“Bring him in.”

V

I expected to enjoy it and I did, only it didn’t last long. Blaney started off by rejecting the red leather chair and choosing one of the spares, which irritated both of us, since we like our routine.

Perched on it, he began, “I was thinking on my way here, fate has thrown us together, Wolfe. You dominate your field and I dominate mine. We were bound to meet.”

It caught Wolfe so completely off-balance that he only muttered sarcastically, “Your field.”

“That’s right.” In profile, from where I sat, Blaney looked like a gopher. “I am supreme. I imagine you and I are alike in more ways than one. Now I like to see things done in an orderly manner. So do you, don’t you?”

Wolfe was speechless. But Blaney, obviously not giving a damn how he was, went on, “So first I’ll give you my four reasons for coming here and then we can take them up one at a time. One: I want a copy of the report you gave the police of what Gene Poor and Martha, his wife, told you about me. Two: discussion of whether your giving that report to the police was publication of a libel, and whether your withdrawal of it will satisfy me. Three: description of several methods by which I could kill a man without the slightest chance of detection. Four: a proposal to make an orchid, guaranteed exclusive to you, an imitation orchid plant in a pot, growing and blooming, that would talk! When the pot was lifted it would say distinctly, ‘Orchids to you!’ or anything of similar length.”

“Good heavens,” Wolfe muttered incredulously. Blaney nodded with satisfaction.

“I knew we would have many things in common. That’s my favorite expression, I use it all the time-good heavens. But you probably want to know where I stand, I would if I were you. I did not come here because of any fear on my own account. There is not the remotest chance of my safety being endangered. But Tuesday evening up at Gene’s apartment I heard a man saying to another man-I presume they were detectives-something about Mrs. Poor being Nero Wolfe’s client and in that case Mrs. Poor was as good as out of it, and Nero Wolfe had decided on Blaney and if so Blaney might as well get his leg shaved for the electrode. I knew that might be just talk, but I really think it would be a shame for you to make yourself ridiculous, and I don’t think you want to. I’m willing to take this trouble. You’re not a man to reach a conclusion without reasons. That wouldn’t be scientific, and you and I are both scientists. Tell me your reasons, one by one, and I’ll prove they’re no good. Go ahead.”

“Archie.” Wolfe looked at me. “Get him out of here.” There wasn’t the slightest indication from Blaney that anyone had said anything except him, and I was too fascinated to move.

Blaney went on, “The truth is, you have no reasons. The fact that Gene was afraid I would kill him proves nothing. He was a born coward. I did describe to him some of the methods by which I could kill a man without detection, but that was merely to impress upon him the fact that he continued to own half of the business by my sufferance and therefore my offer of twenty thousand dollars for his half was an act of generosity. I wouldn’t condescend to kill a man. No man is worth that much to me, or that little.”

As he went on his squeak showed a tendency to hoarsen.

“So you have no reasons. I suspected you didn’t, but if you did I wanted to answer them. We can go back to my one, two, and three later, but right now about this talking orchid. When I get hold of a creative idea I can’t concentrate on anything else. You will have to give me three or four orchid plants to work from, and they ought to be your favorite plants. And here’s the stroke of genius, I was saving this, the voice that does the talking will be-your voice! Whoever you send it to, preferably a lady, she will lift the pot, suspecting nothing, and your own voice, the voice of Nero Wolfe, will say to her, Orchids to you! Probably she’ll drop the pot. But-”

He had performed a miracle. I saw it with my own eyes, Nero Wolfe fleeing in haste from his own office. He had chased many a fellow being from that room, but that was the first time he had ever himself been chased. It became evident that he wasn’t even going to risk staying on that floor when the sound was heard of the door of his elevator banging open and shut. I told Blaney, “Overlook it. He’s eccentric.”

Blaney said, “So am I.”

I nodded. “Geniuses are.”

Blaney was frowning. “Does he really think I killed Gene Poor?”

“Yeah. He does now.”

“Why now?”

I waved it away. “Forget it. I’m eccentric too.” Blaney was still frowning.

“There’s another possibility. The idea of the orchid having his voice doesn’t appeal to him. Then how about its having your voice? You have a good baritone voice. I would let you have it at cost, and you could give it to him for Christmas. Let’s see how it would sound. Say it in a medium tone, Orchids to you-”

The house phone buzzed, and I swung my chair around and took it. It was Wolfe, on his room extension. “Archie. Is that man gone?”

“No, sir. He wants me-”