Rex Stout: Too Many Cooks

“One of them is your daughter.”

“Damn it, I know my daughter when I see her. They’ll have to get out.”

I got up and put up my brows at Constanza. “Well?” The train lurched and Wolfe grabbed for the other arm of the seat. It would have been a shame to get wrecked then.

Constanza arose, reached down to pat her father on the head, and passed through the door as I held it open.

I supposed that was the fitting end to our holiday, since Wolfe was getting that recipe, but there was one more unexpected diversion to come. Since there was still an hour to go I invited Constanza to the club car for a drink, and she swayed and staggered behind me through three cars to that destination. There were only eight or ten customers in the club car, mostly hid behind morning papers, and plenty of seats. She specified ginger ale, which reminded me of old times, and I ordered a highball to celebrate Wolfe’s collection of his fee. We had only taken a couple of sips when I became aware that a fellow passenger across the aisle had arisen, put down his paper, walked up to us, and was standing in front of Constanza, looking down at her.

He said, “You can’t do this to me, you can’t ! I don’t deserve it and you can’t do it.” He sounded urgent. “You ought to see-you ought to realize-”

Constanza said to me, chattering prettily, “I didn’t suppose my father would ever tell that recipe to any one. Once in San Remo I heard him tell an Englishman, some very important person-”

The intruder moved enough inches to be standing between us, and rudely interrupted her: “Hello, Goodwin. I want to ask you-”

“Hello, Tolman.” I grinned up at him. “What’s the idea? You with two brand new prisoners in your jail, and here you are running around-”

“I had to get to New York. For evidence. It was too important… Look here. I want to ask you if Miss Berin has any right to treat me like this. Your unbiased opinion. She won’t speak to me. She won’t look at me. Didn’t I have to do what I did? Was there anything else I could do?”

“Certainly. You could have resigned. But then of course you’d have been out of a job, and God knows when you’d have been able to marry. It was really a problem, I see that. But I wouldn’t worry. Only a little while ago I wondered why Miss Berin was doing so much smiling, there didn’t seem to be any special reason for it, but now I understand. She was smiling because she knew you were on the train.”

“Mr. Goodwin! That isn’t true!”

“But if she won’t even speak to me-”

I waved a hand. “Shell speak to you all right. You just don’t know how to go about it. Her own method is as good a one as I’ve seen recently. Watch me now, and next time you can do it yourself.”

I tipped my highball glass and spilled about a jigger on her skirt where it was round over her knee.

She ejaculated and jerked. Tolman ejaculated and bent over and reached for his handkerchief. I arose and reassured them, “It’s rite all kight, it doodn’t stain.” Then I went over and picked up his morning paper and sat down where he had been.

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