Rex Stout - Some Buried Caesar

He said just as soon as possible.

It was noon by the time I got to our space in the main ex- hibits building. It was judgment day for more than Guernseys, as 4 o'clock that afternoon was zero hour for the orchids. Wolfe was there spraying and manicuring. The sprayer was a pippin, made specially to his order, holding two gallons, with a compression chamber and a little electric motor, weigh- ing only 11 pounds empty. His rival and enemy. Shanks, was with him admiring the sprayer when I joined them. I told him the car was okay and named the extent of the damage, and described the plight of Mr. Bennett.

He grimaced. "Then I must wait here."

"Standing is good for you."

"And the delay. It is Wednesday noon. We have nothing left but shreds. I telephoned Mr. Waddell. The club carried to Mr. Pratt's place has not been found, and the police took no photographs of the bull. Pfui. Inspector Cramer's inde- fatigable routine has its advantages. Miss Osgood reports that none of the servants saw Bronson return. Our next move depends on Mr. Bennett."

"He says he has no information."

"But he has. He is ignorant of its application. Perhaps if you went back and explained?…"

"Not without using force. He says he hasn't got time to eat."

That of course silenced him. He grunted and returned to Shanks.

I propped myself against the edge of the dahlia table across the aisle and yawned. Dissatisfaction filled my breast. I had failed to bring what I had been sent for, which was infrequent and irritating. I had been relieved of $66.20 of Wolfe's money. We were going to dine and sleep that night in a house where family and relatives were preparing for a funeral. Wolfe had just stated that in the murder case we were supposed to be solving we had nothing left but shreds. Alto- gether, the outlook was not rosy. Wolfe and Shanks went on chewing the rag, paying no attention to the visitors passing up and down the aisle, and I stood propped, with no enthusi- asm for any effort to combat the gloom. I must have shut my eyes for the first I knew there was a tug at my sleeve and a voice:

"Wake up, Escamillo, 'and show me the flowers."

I let the lids up. "How do you do. Miss Rowan. Go away. I'm in seclusion."

"Kiss me."

I bent and deposited a peck on her brow. "There. Thank you for calling. Nice to see you."

"You're a lout."

"I have at no time asked you to submit bids."

The comer of her mouth went up. "This is a public ex- position. I paid my way in. You're an exhibitor. Go ahead and exhibit. Show me."

"Not exhibitionist. Exhibitor. Anyway, I'm only an em- ployee." I took her elbow and eased her across the aisle. "Mr. Wolfe, you know Miss Rowan, She wants to be shown the orchids."

He bowed. "That is one compliment I always surrender to."

She looked him in the eye. "I want you to like me, Mr. Wolfe. Or not dislike me. Mr. Goodwin and I are probably going to be friends. Will you give me an orchid?"

"I rarely dislike women, and never like them. Miss Rowan. I have only albinos here. I'll give you orchids at 5 o'clock, after the judging, if you'll tell me where to send them."

"I'll come and get them."

The upshot of that was that she went to lunch with us.

The Methodist tent was fuller than the day before, prob- ably because we got there earlier. Apparently Mrs. Miller had no off days, for the fricassee with dumplings was as good as the memory of it, and, thinking it might be my last ap- pearance among the devout, I permitted myself to run the meal in two sections, as did Wolfe. He, as always in the com- pany of good food, was sociable and expansive. Discovering that Lily had been in Egypt, he told about his house in Cairo, and they chatted away like a pair of camels, going on to Arabia and making quite a trip of it. She let him do most of the talking but made him chuckle a couple of times, and I began to suspect she wasn't very obvious and might even be smooth.

As I put down my empty coffee cup Wolfe said, "Still no Bennett. It's 1:30. Is it far to the cattle sheds?"

I told him not very.

"Then if you will please find out about him. Confound it, I must see him. If he can't come at once, tell him I'll be here until 3 o'clock, and after that at the exhibit."

"Right."

I got up. Lily arose too, saying that she was supposed to be with Mr. Pratt and Caroline and they were probably look- ing for her. She left the tent with me, whereupon I informed her that it was now working hours and I would be moving through the throngs too energetically for pleasant companion- ship. She stated that up to date she had failed to detect any taint of pleasantness in my make-up and would see me at 5 o'clock, and departed in the direction of the grandstand. My errand was the other way.

They were going strong at the judging lot. I was pleased to note that Guernseys were evidently a more popular breed than Belted Swiss or Ayrshires, as the crowd was much larger than it had been 2 hours earlier. Bennett was within the en- closure, along with judges, scorekeepers and cattle with at- tendants. For a second my heart stopped, as I caught sight of a bull I would have sworn was Hickory Caesar Grindon; then I saw he was a lighter shade of tan and had a much smaller white spot on his face. I maneuvered around to the other side where the crowd wasn't so thick, and stood there, and when I felt a pull at my sleeve I thought for an instant that Lily Rowan had tailed me.

But it was Dave, dressed up in coat and pants and shirt and tie, and a shiny straw hat. He cackled: "Didn't I say you like to be around where things is goin' on? First I seen you. Was you here when them derned fools put down Bella Grassleigh for that Silverville cow? Her with a barrel more like a deer than any good milker I ever saw."

"Good God," I said, "that's the worst I ever heard. I just got here. I don't suppose… well, I'll be derned. There's our friend Monte McMillan."

"Yep, I drove him in this morning." Dave shook his head.

"Poor old Monte, got to start practically all over again. He's got it in mind to do some buyin' if prices is right, to build up another foundation. You wouldn't have thought a year ago…"

I missed the rest because I was diving under the rope. Bennett was momentarily disengaged, standing mopping his forehead, and I made for him. He blinked at me in the sun- light and said he was sorry, he hadn't been able to make it. I told him okay, that was forgiven, but couldn't he come to the Methodist tent right now. Impossible, he said, they were judging Produce of Dam and Breeders' Young Herd simul- taneously. There was nothing he could tell Nero Wolfe any- way. And I didn't belong there in the enclosure-

I got a little peremptory: "Wolfe's working on a murder, and he says he needs to see you and can't make another move until he does. Are you primarily a citizen and a friend of Fred Osgood's, or a sergeant at arms in a cattle tribunal? If you think justice among the cows is more important…"

He said he wasn't a particular friend of Osgood's, who as far as he was concerned was merely a member of the League, and that he would be at the Methodist tent no, fooling, within half an hour.

I got outside the ropes again, but instead of beating it I de- cided to hang around and wait for him. I watched the judging for a few minutes, but couldn't see very well on account of the mob, and so wandered along in front of the sheds. There was no one around at all, the judging being the current at- traction, so naturally I observed the moving object that caught my eyes, especially since the first sight showed me that the object was familiar. It was Nancy Osgood, and the glance she cast behind her as she entered one of the sheds was either furtive or I was getting fanciful. Even if she was furtive it was none of my business, but a detective who minds his own business would be a contradiction in terms, so I slid over to the shed and inserted myself through the door.