Rex Stout - Three Doors to Death (The Rex Stout Library)
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- Название:Three Doors to Death (The Rex Stout Library)
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"Well." Wolfe was looking as pleased as if someone had just presented him with thirty acres of orchids. "When did this happen?"
"About two years ago."
"Do you know where Miss Hefferan is now?"
"Sure, I can get her address in New York."
"Good." Wolfe wiggled a finger. "I said I wouldn't insist on proof, and I won't, but how much of this is fact and how much gossip?"
"No gossip at all. It's straight fact."
"Has any of it ever been published? For instance, in a newspaper reporting a proceeding in a court?"
Gus shook his head. "It wasn't in a court. How would it get in a court when he paid forty or fifty thousand to keep it out?"
"Just so, but I wanted to be sure. Were these facts generally known and discussed in the neighborhood?"
"Well – not known, no." Gus gestured. "Of course there was some talk, but only two or three really knew what happened, and I happened to be one of them because of my friend being Florence's best friend. And I didn't help start any talking. I've never opened my trap about it until now, and I told you only to help Andy, but damned if I see how it's going to."
"I do," Wolfe said emphatically. "Has Mr. Pitcairn been helpful in any other real estate deals?"
"Not that I know of. He must have lost his head that time. But it's more a question of a guy's general approach, and I've seen him performing with house guests here. What I can say for sure is that his son didn't catch it from him. I don't know why – when a man starts turning gray why don't he realize the whistle has blowed and concentrate on something else? Take you, you show some gray. I'll bet you don't dash around crowing and flapping your arms."
I tittered without meaning to. Wolfe gave me a withering glance and then returned to Gus.
"No, Mr. Treble, I don't. But while your general observations are interesting and sound, they won't help me any. I can use only specific items. I need scandal, all I can get. More about Mr. Pitcairn, I hope?"
But apparently Gus had shot his main wad. He had a further collection of details pertaining to Joseph G., and he was now more than willing to turn the bag up and shake it, but it didn't seem to me to advance Pitcairn's promotion to the grade of murder suspect. For one thing, there wasn't even a morsel about him and Dini Lauer, though, as Gus pointed out, he was an outside man and therefore knew little of what went on in the house.
Finally Wolfe waved Pitcairn aside and asked, "What about his wife? I haven't heard her mentioned more than twice all day. What's she like?"
"She's all right," Gus said shortly. "Forget her."
"Why, is she above reproach?"
"She's a nice woman. She's all right."
"Was her accident really an accident?"
"Certainly it was. She was alone, going down the stone steps into the rose garden, and she took a tumble, that was all."
"How much is she hurt?"
"I guess it was pretty bad, but it's getting better now, so she can sit in a chair and walk a little. Andy's been going up to her room every day for orders – only she don't give orders. She discusses things."
Wolfe nodded. "I can see you like her, but even so there's a question. What valid evidence have you that she is incapable of carrying an object weighing a hundred and ten pounds down a flight of stairs and into the greenhouse?"
"Oh, skip it," Gus said scornfully. "Hell, she broke her back!"
"Very well," Wolfe conceded. "But you should consider that whoever drugged Miss Lauer and carried her through the house was under a pressure that demanded superhuman effort. I advise you never to try your hand at detective work. At least you can tell me where Mrs. Pitcairn's room – no." He wiggled a finger. "Is there paper in that desk? And a pencil?"
"Sure."
"Please sketch me a plan of the house – ground plans of both floors. I heard it described this afternoon, but I want to be sure I have it right. Just roughly, but identify all the rooms."
Gus obliged. He got a pad and pencil from a drawer and set to work. The pencil moved fast. In no time he had two sheets torn from the pad and crossed over to hand them to Wolfe, and told him, "I didn't show the back stairs leading up to the room where Mr. and Mrs. Imbrie sleep, but the little passage upstairs goes there too."
Wolfe glanced at the sheets, folded them, and stuck them in his pocket. "Thank you, sir," he said graciously. "You have been -"
What stopped him was the sound of heavy steps on the porch. I got up to go and open the door, not waiting for a knock, but there was no knock. Instead, there was the noise of a key inserted and turned, the door swung open and a pair entered.
It was Lieutenant Noonan and one of the rank and file.
"Who the hell," he demanded, "do you think you are?"
VII
Gus was on his feet. I whirled and stood. Wolfe spoke from his chair.
"Of course, Mr. Noonan, if that was a rhetorical -"
"Can it. I know damn well who you are. You're a Broadway slickie that thinks you can come up to Westchester and tell us the rules. Get going! Come on. Move out."
"I have Mr. Pitcairn's permission -"
"You have like hell. He just phoned me. And you're taking nothing from this cottage. You may have them buffaloed down in New York, and even the DA and the county boys, but I'm different. Do you want to go without help?"
Wolfe put his hands on the arms of his chair, got his bulk lifted, said, "Come, Archie," got his hat and coat and cane, and made for the door. There he turned, said grimly, "I hope to see you again, Mr. Treble," and was saved the awkwardness of reaching for the knob by my being there to open for him. Outside I got the flashlight from my hip pocket, switched it on, and led the way.
As we navigated the path for the fourth time there were seven or eight things I would have liked to say, but I swallowed them. Noonan and his bud were at our heels and, since Wolfe had evidently decided that we were outmatched, there was nothing for me to do but take it. When, after we were beyond the grove of evergreens, I swung the light up for a glance at the tennis court, there was a deep growl from Wolfe behind, so from there on I kept the light on the path.
We crunched across the gravel to where we had left the car. As I opened the rear door for Wolfe to get in, Noonan, right at my elbow, spoke.
"I'm being generous. I could phone the DA and get an okay to take you in as material witnesses, but you see I'm not. Our car's in front. Stop at the entrance until we're behind. We're going to follow until you're out of the county, and we won't need you back here again tonight or any other time. Got it?"
No reply. I banged the door, opened the front one, slid in beside the wheel, and pushed the starter.
"Got it?" he barked.
"Yes," Wolfe said.
They strode off and we rolled forward. When we reached the entrance to the Pitcairn grounds and stopped, the accomplice Noonan had stationed there flashed a light at us but said nothing.
I told Wolfe over my shoulder, "I'll turn right and go north. It's only ten miles to Brewster, and that's in Putnam County. He only said to leave the county, he didn't say which way."
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