Rex Stout - Trio for Blunt Instruments

When Mercer had finished his study of the corner of Wolfe’s desk he had turned his attention not to Wolfe, but to his salesman and receptionist. He had kept his eyes at Horan while Wolfe was questioning him, and then at Miss Cox, and, since I had him full-face past the profiles of the other two, I didn’t have to be more than clever to tell that his immediate worry wasn’t how to satisfy Wolfe but how to satisfy himself. And from his eyes when he moved them to Wolfe, he still wasn’t sure. He spoke.

“I want to state that I shouldn’t have said that my attorney thinks this is a blackmailing trick and I agree with him. I want to retract that. I admit it’s possible that Miss Vassos has persuaded you-that you believe she has been slandered and you’re acting in good faith.”

Wolfe said, “Ummf.”

Mercer screwed his lips. He still wasn’t sure. He unscrewed them. “Of course,” he said, “if it’s just a trick, nothing will satisfy you. But if it isn’t, then the truth ought to. I’m going to disregard my attorney’s advice and tell you exactly what happened. It seems to me-”

Two voices interrupted him. Horan said, “No!” emphatically, and Miss Cox said, “Don’t, Mr. Mercer!”

He ignored them. “It seems to me that’s the best thing to do to stop this-this publicity. I told the police about Miss Vassos’-uh-her association with Mr. Ashby, and Mr. Horan and Miss Cox corroborated it. All three of us told them. It wasn’t slander. You may be right that we weren’t legally compelled to tell them, but they were investigating a murder, and we regarded it as our duty to answer their questions. According to my attorney, if you go on with it and the case gets to court, it will be dismissed.”

Wolfe’s palms were flat on his desk. “Let’s make it explicit. You told the police that Miss Vassos had been seduced by Mr. Ashby?”

“Yes.”

“How did you know that? I assume that you hadn’t actually witnessed the performance.”

“Spontaneously? Voluntarily?”

“No. I asked him. There had been complaints about his conduct with some of the employees, and I had been told specifically about Miss Vassos.”

“Told by whom?”

“Mr. Horan and Miss Cox.”

“Who had told them?”

“Ashby himself had told Miss Cox. Horan wouldn’t say where he had got his information.”

“And you went to Ashby and he admitted it?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Last week. Wednesday. A week ago yesterday.”

Wolfe closed his eyes and took in air, through his nose, all the way down, and let it out through his mouth. He had got more than he had bargained for. No wonder the cops and the DA had bought it. He took on another load of air, held it a second, let it go, and opened his eyes. “Do you confirm that, Miss Cox? That Ashby himself told you he had seduced Miss Vassos?”

“Yes.”

“Who told you, Mr. Horan?”

Horan shook his head. “Nothing doing. I didn’t tell the police and I won’t tell you. I’m not going to drag anyone else into this mess.”

“Then you didn’t regard it as your duty to answer all their questions.”

“No.”

Wolfe looked at Mercer. “I must consult with Miss Vassos and her attorney. I shall advise her either to withdraw her action, or to pursue it and also to prefer a criminal change against you three, conspiracy to defame her character-whatever the legal phrase may be. At the moment I don’t know which I shall advise.” He pushed back his chair and arose. “You will be informed, probably by her attorney through yours. Meanwhile-”

“But I’ve told you the truth !”

“I don’t deny the possibility. Meanwhile, I am not clear about the plan of your premises, and I need to be. I want Mr. Goodwin to inspect them. I wish to discuss the situation with him first, and it is near the dinner hour. He’ll go after dinner, say at nine o’clock. I presume the door will be locked, so you will please arrange for someone to be there to let him in.”

“Why? What good will that do? You said yourself that anyone could have got into Ashby’s room by the other door.”

“It’s necessary if I am to be satisfied. I need to understand clearly all the observable movements of people-particularly of Mr. Vassos. Say nine o’clock?”

Mercer didn’t like it, but he wouldn’t have liked anything short of an assurance that the heat was off or soon would be. The others didn’t like it either, so they had to lump it. It was agreed that one of them would meet me in the lobby of the Eighth Avenue building at nine o’clock. They left together, Miss Cox with her chin up, Mercer with his down, and Horan with his long bony face even longer. When I returned to the office after letting them out, Wolfe was still standing, scowling at the red leather chair as if Mercer were still in it.

I said emphatically, “Nuts. Mercer and Miss Cox are both quoting a dead man, and Horan’s quoting anonymous. They’re all double-breasted liars. I now call her Elma. If she passes Busch up I’ll probably put in a bid myself after I find out if she can dance.”

Wolfe grunted. “Innocence has no contract with bliss. Confound it, of course she’s innocent, that’s the devil of it. If she had misbehaved as charged, and as a result her father had killed that man and then himself, she wouldn’t have dared to come to me unless she’s a lunatic. There is always that possibility. Is she deranged?”

“No. She’s a fine sweet pure fairly bright girl with a special face and good legs.”

“Where is she?”

“In her room.”

“I’m not in a mood to sit at table with her. Tell Fritz to take up a tray.”

“I’ll take it up myself, and one for me. She’ll want to know how you made out with them. After all, we’ve got her dollar.”

8

EVERY TRADE HAS ITS TRICKS. If he’s any good a detective gets habits as he goes along that become automatic, one of them being to keep his eyes peeled. As I turned the corner of Eighth Avenue at 8:56 that Thursday evening I wasn’t conscious of the fact that I was casing the neighborhood; as I say, it gets automatic; but when my eye told me that there was something familiar about a woman standing at the curb across the avenue I took notice and looked. Right; it was Frances Cox in her gray wool coat and gray fur stole, and she had seen me. As I stopped in front of the building I was bound for she beckoned, and I crossed over to her. As I got there she spoke.

“There’s a light in Ashby’s room.”

I rubbernecked and saw the two lit windows on the tenth floor. “The cleaners,” I said.

“No. They start at the top and they’re through on that floor by seven-thirty.”

“Inspector Cramer. He’s short a clue. Have you got a key?”

“Of course. I came to let you in. Mr. Mercer and Mr. Horan are busy.”

“With the lawyer?”

“Ask them.”

“The trouble with you is you blab. Okay, let’s go up and help Cramer.”