Rex Stout - Some Buried Caesar

Wolfe's eyes went shut, then came half-open again. He heaved a deep sigh. "The fool. I told that man he was a fool."

15

I NODDED. "Yeah. You also told him you were be- ginning to suspect that he was engaged in an en- terprise which might prove to be a big blunder. Madam Shasta, in a booth down the line, calls it reading the future and charges a dime for it." I fished for a pair of nickels and shoved them across at him. "I'll bite. How did you know it?"

He ignored my offer. "Confound it," he muttered. "Too late again. I should have phoned Saul or Fred last evening to take a night train. Bronson should have been followed this morning. Once compelled to talk, he would have been all the evidence we needed. I am not myself, Archie. How the devil can I be, dashing around in all this furor… I have that scoundrel Shanks to thank for it. Well." He sighed again. "You say no one knows it?"

"Correct. Except the guy that did it. I was waiting around for Bennett and saw Nancy enter a cowshed and followed her in. She joined Jimmy Pratt in a stall which also contained a pile of straw. I made it three and we conversed. A cow nurse came and removed part of the straw, exposing a shoe and a trouser cuff. No one saw it but me and I kicked straw over it. A pitchfork was thrust into the pile, upright, with straw covering it part way up the handle, and I took a sounding with my hand and discovered what its pincushion was. Right through his chest. His pump was gone. I accused Romeo and Juliet of indiscretion and hustled them out in separate direc- tions, and came here."

"Then the discovery awaits removal of more straw."

"Yes. Which may have already happened, or may not occur until tomorrow."

"But probably sooner. You came away to escape clamor?"

"To notify you. And to tell you about Bennett. And to save Nancy from being annoyed, by her father for the company she keeps, and by the cops for practically sitting on a corpse."

"You were all seen by the man who removed the straw."

"Sure, and by various others. Shall I go back now and dis- cover him?"

Wolfe shook his head. 'That wouldn't help. Nor, probably, will there be a trail for the official pack, so there's no hurry. I wouldn't have guessed Bronson would be idiot enough to give him such a chance, but of course he had to meet him somewhere. But it is now all the more imperative-ah, thank goodness! Good afternoon, sir."

Lew Bennett, still in his shirt sleeves, out of breath, stood beside him and curtly acknowledged the greeting. "You want to see me? Worst time you could have picked. The very worst."

"So Mr. Goodwin has told me. I'm sorry, but I can't help it. Be seated, sir. Have some coffee?"

"I'll just stand. If I once sat down… what do you want?"

"Have you had lunch?"

"No."

"Preposterous." Wolfe shook his head at him. "In the midst of the most difficult and chaotic problems, I never missed a meal. A stomach too long empty thins the blood and discon- certs the brain.-Archie, order a portion of the fricassee.-For God's sake, sir, sit down."

I doubt if Wolfe influenced him much, it was the smell of food. I saw his nostrils quivering. He hesitated, and when I flagged a Methodist and told her to bring it with an extra dime's worth of dumplings, which was an idea Wolfe had in- vented, he succumbed and dropped into a chair.

Wolfe said, "That's better. Now. I've been hired by Mr. Os- good to solve a murder, and I need to know some things. You may think of my questions irrelevant or even asinine; if so you'll be wrong. My only serious fault is lethargy, and I toler- ate Mr. Goodwin, and even pay him, to help me circumvent it. 48 hours ago, Monday afternoon on Mr. Pratt's terrace, you told him that there were a dozen members of your league wait- ing for you to get back, and that when they heard what you had to say there would be some action taken. You shouted that at him with conviction. What sort of action did you have in mind?"

Bennett was staring at him. "Not murder," he said shortly. "What has that got-"

"Please." Wolfe wiggled a finger at him. "I've told you I'm not an ass. I asked you a simple straightforward question. Can't you simply answer it? I know you were shouting at Mr. Pratt in a rage. But what sort of action did you have in mind?"

"No sort."

"Nothing whatever?"

"Nothing specific. I was furious. We all were. What he intended to do was the most damnable outrage and insult-"

"I know. Granting your viewpoint, I agree. But hadn't ways and means of preventing it been discussed? For example, had anyone suggested the possibility of removing Hickory Caesar Grindon secretly and putting another bull in his place?"

Bennett started to speak, and stopped. His eyes looked wary. "No," he said curtly.

Wolfe sighed. "All right. I wish you would understand that I'm investigating a murder, not a conspiracy to defraud. You should eat those dumplings hot. It might be better to let this wait until you're through-"

"Go ahead. When I'm through I'm going."

"Very well. I didn't ask if some of you had substituted an- other bull or tried, I asked merely if it had been suggested in the heat of indignation. What I really want to know is, would such a plan have been feasible?"

"Feasible?" Bennett swallowed chicken. "It would have been a crime. Legally."

"Of course. But-please give this consideration as a serious question-might it have worked?"

He considered, chewing bread and butter. "No. Monte McMillan was there."

"If Mr. McMillan hadn't been there, or had been a party to the scheme, might it have worked?"

"It might have."

"It would have been possible to replace Caesar with an- other bull sufficiently resembling him so that the substitution would be undetected by anyone not thoroughly familiar with his appearance, without a close inspection?"

"It might have."

"Yet Caesar was a national grand champion." Wolfe shifted, grimacing, on the folding chair. "Didn't he approach the unique?"

"Hell no. There's plenty of good bulls, and quite a few great ones. The grand champion stuff is all right, and it's valid, but sometimes the margin is mighty slim. Last year at Indianapolis, Caesar scored 96 and Portchester Compton 95. Another thing of course is their get. The records of their daughters and sons. Caesar had 51 A R daughters-"

"And 9 A R sons. I know. And that of course would not be visible to the eye. But still I am not satisfied. If another bull was to be substituted for Caesar by… well, let us say Clyde Osgood… it couldn't be a near-champion, for the bull was destined to be butchered, and near-champions are valuable too. Would it be possible for an average bull, of comparatively low value, to have a fairly strong resemblance to a champion?"

"Might. At a distance of say a hundred yards. It would depend on who was looking."

"How does a bull score points?"

Bennett swallowed dumplings. "The scale of points we judge on has 22 headings, with a total of 100 points for perfection, which of course no bull ever got. Style and symmetry is 10 points. Head 6, horns 1, neck 3, withers 3, shoulders 2, chest 4, back 8, loin 3, hips 2, rump 6, thurls 2, barrel 10, and so on. The biggest number of points for any heading is 20 points for Secretions Indicating Color of Product. That's judged by the pigment secretions of the skin, which should be a deep yellow inclining toward orange in color, especially discernible in the ear, at the end of the tad- bone, around the eyes and nose, on the scrotum, and at the base of horns. Hoofs and horns should be yellow. There is a very close relationship between the color of the skin, the color of the internal fat, and the milk and butter. Now that heading alone is 20 points out of the 100, and you can only judge it by a close-up inspection. As far as value is concerned, a bull's A R record is much more important than his show record. In the 1935 auctions, for instance, the price brought by A R bulls averaged over $2000. Bulls not yet A R but with A R dams averaged $533. Bulls not A R and without A R dams averaged $157. That same year Lang- water Reveller sold for $10,000."