Rex Stout - Three Witnesses

“No!” It was a bellow. “Wait till I bolt it!” And after a moment: “All right!”

I shut my door and went to the stairs and descended. Wolfe was back in his chair behind his desk, sitting straight. As I entered he snapped at me, “A pretty mess! You sneak a dog in here to badger me, and what now?”

I crossed to my desk, sat, and spoke calmly. “We’re way beyond that. You will never admit you bollixed it up yourself, so forget it. When you ask me what now, that’s easy. I could say I’ll take the dog down and deliver him at Homicide, but we’re beyond that too. Not only have you learned that he is orphaned, as you put it, which sounds terrible, and therefore adopting him will probably be simple, but also you have taken a stand with Cramer, and of course you won’t back up. If we sit tight with the door bolted I suppose I can take the dog out back for his outings, but what if the law shows up tomorrow with a writ?”

He leaned back and shut his eyes. I looked up at the wall clock: two minutes past eleven. I looked at my wristwatch: also two minutes past eleven. They both said six minutes past when Wolfe opened his eyes.

“From Mr. Cramer’s information,” he said, “I doubt if that case holds any formidable difficulties.”

I had no comment.

“If it were speedily solved,” he went on, “your commitment to the dog could be honored at leisure. I had thought until now that my disinclination to permit a policeman to storm in here and commandeer any person or object in this house that struck his fancy was shared by you.”

“It is. Within reason.”

“That’s an ambiguous phrase, and I must be allowed my own interpretation short of absurdity. Clearly the simplest way to settle this matter is to find out who killed Mr. Kampf. It may not be much of a job; if it proves otherwise we can reconsider. An immediate exploration is the thing, and luckily we have a pretext for it. You can go there to get your raincoat, taking Mr. Meegan’s with you, and proceed as the occasion offers. The best course would be to bring him here, but, as you know, I wholly rely on your discretion and enterprise in such a juncture.”

“Thank you very much,” I said bitterly. “You mean now.”

“Yes.”

“They may still have Meegan downtown.”

“I doubt if they’ll keep him overnight. In the morning they’ll probably have him again.”

“I’ll have to take the dog out first.”

“Fritz will take him out back in the court.”

“I’ll be damned.” I arose. “No client, no fee, no nothing except a dog with a wide skull for brain room.” I crossed to the door, turned, said distinctly, “I will be damned,” went to the rack for my hat and Meegan’s coat, and beat it.

III

THE RAIN HAD ENDED, and the wind was down. After dismissing the taxi at the end of Arbor Street, I walked to number 29, with the raincoat hung over my arm. There was light behind the curtains of the windows on the ground floor, but none anywhere above, and none in the basement. Entering the vestibule, I inspected the labels in the slots between the mailboxes and the buttons. From the bottom up they read: Talento, Meegan, Aland, and Chaffee. I pushed the button above Meegan, put my hand on the doorknob, and waited. No click. I twisted the knob, and it wouldn’t turn. Another long push on the button, and a longer wait. I varied it by trying four short pushes. Nothing doing.

I left the vestibule and was confronted by two couples standing on the sidewalk staring at me, or at the entrance. They exchanged words, decided they didn’t care for my returning stare, and passed on. I considered pushing the button of Victor Talento, the lawyer who lived on the ground floor, where light was showing, voted to wait a while for Meegan, with whom I had an in, moved down ten paces to a fire hydrant, and propped myself against it.

I hadn’t been there long enough to shift position more than a couple of times when the light disappeared on the ground floor of number 29, and a little later the vestibule door opened and a man came out. He turned toward me, gave me a glance as he passed, and kept going. Thinking it unlikely that any occupant of that house was being extended the freedom of the city that night, I cast my eyes around, and sure enough, when the subject had gone some thirty paces a figure emerged from an areaway across the street and started strolling. I shook my head in disapproval. I would have waited until the guy was ten paces farther. Saul Panzer would have made it ten more than that, but Saul is the best tailer alive.

As I stood deploring that faulty performance, an idea hit me. They might keep Meegan downtown another two hours, or all night, or he might even be up in his bed asleep. This was at least a chance to take a stab at something. I shoved off, in the direction taken by the subject, who was now a block away. Stepping along, I gained on him. A little beyond the corner I was abreast of the city employee, who was keeping to the other side of the street; but I wasn’t interested in him. It seemed to me that the subject was upping the stroke a little, so I did too, really marching, and as he reached the next intersection I was beside him. He had looked over his shoulder when he heard me coming up behind, but hadn’t slowed. As I reached him I spoke.

“Victor Talento?”

“No comment,” he said and kept going. So did I.

“Thanks for the compliment,” I said, “but I’m not a reporter. My name’s Archie Goodwin, and I work for Nero Wolfe. If you’ll stop a second I’ll show you my credentials.”

“I’m not interested in your credentials.”

“Okay. If you just came out for a breath of air you won’t be interested in this either. Otherwise you may be. Please don’t scream or look around, but you’ve got a Homicide dick on your tail. Don’t look or he’ll know I’m telling you. He’s across the street, ninety feet back.”

“Yes,” he conceded, without changing pace, “that’s interesting. Is this your good deed for the day?”

“No. I’m out dowsing for Mr. Wolfe. He’s investigating a murder just for practice, and I’m looking for a seam. I thought if I gave you a break you might feel like reciprocating. If you’re just out for a walk, forget it, and sorry I interrupted. If you’re headed for something you’d like to keep private maybe you could use some expert advice. In this part of town at this time of night there are only two approved methods for shaking a tail, and I’d be glad to oblige.”

He looked it over for half a block, with me keeping step, and then spoke. “You mentioned credentials.”

“Right. We might as well stop under that light. The dick will keep his distance.”

We stopped. I got out my wallet and let him have a look at my licenses, detective and driver’s. He didn’t skimp it, being a lawyer. I put my wallet back.

“Of course,” he said, “I was aware that I might be followed.”

“Sure.”

“I intended to take precautions. But it may not be -I suppose it’s not as simple as it seems. I have had no experience at this kind of maneuver. Who hired Wolfe to investigate?”

“I don’t know. He says he needs practice.”

“All right, if it’s qualified.” He stood sizing me up by the street light. He was an inch shorter than me, and some older, with his weight starting to collect around the middle. He was dark-skinned, with eyes to match, and his nose hooked to point down. I didn’t prod him. My lucky stab had snagged him, and it was his problem. He was working on it.