Rex Stout - The Second Confesion

Who shall we pick on?” “I don't want to pick on anybody. That's the trouble. Why should anyone pay a penalty for accidentally killing Louis Rony?” “Maybe they shouldn't.” I patted her round brown soft firm shoulder to see if it was dry yet. There I'm right with you, ma'am. But the hell of it-” “Why do you keep on calling me ma'am?” “To make you want me to call you something else. Watch and see if it don't work.

It always does. The hell of it is that both the DA and Nero Wolfe insist on knowing, and the sooner they find out the sooner we can go on to other things like athletic contests. Knowing how good you are at dare-base, I suppose you do have an idea about someone using my car. What gave it to you?” She sat up, said, “I guess my front's dry,” turned over on to a fresh spot, and stretched out again, face down. The temptation to pat was now stronger than before, but I resisted it.

“What gave it to you?” I asked as if it didn't matter much.

No reply. In a moment her voice came, muffled. “I ought to think it over some more.” “Yeah, that never does any harm, but you haven't got much time. The DA may be here any minute. Also you asked my advice, and I'd be in better shape to make it good if I knew something about your idea. Go ahead and describe it.” She turned her head enough to let her eyes, now shielded from the sun, take me in at an angle. “You could be clever if you worked at it,” she said. “It's fun to watch you going after something. Say I saw or heard something last night and now I tell you about it. Within thirty seconds, for as you say there isn't much time, you would have to go in to wash your hands, and as soon as you're in the house you run upstairs and tell Nero Wolfe. He gets busy immediately, and probably by the time the District Attorney gets here the answer is all ready for him-or if it doesn't go as fast as that, when they do get the answer it will be Nero Wolfe that started it, and so the bill he sends my father can be bigger than it could have been otherwise. I don't know how much money Dad has spent on me in my twenty-six years, but it's been plenty, and now for the first time in my life I can save him some. Isn't that wonderful? If you had a widowed middle-aged daughter whose chest expanded three inches, wouldn't you want her to act as I am acting?” “No, ma'am,” I said emphatically.

“Of course you would. Call me something else, like darling or little cabbage.

Here we are, locked in a tussle, you trying to make money for your boss and me trying to save money for my father, and yet we're-” She sat up abruptly. “Is that a car coming? Yes, it is.” She was on her feet.

“Here he comes, and I've got to do my hair!” She streaked for the house.

CHAPTER Thirteen

I walked into the bedroom and announced to Wolfe, “The law haft arrived. Shall I arrange to have the meeting held up here?” “No,” he said testily. “What time is it?” “Eighteen minutes to six.” He grunted. “I'd have a devil of a time getting anywhere on this from the office, with these people here for the summer. You'd have to do it all, and you don't seem to take to this place very well. You gulp down drinks that have been drugged, plan and execute hold-ups, and leave my car where it can be used to kill people.” “Yep,” I agreed cheerfully, “I'm no longer what I used to be. If I were you I'd fire me. Am I fired?” “No. But if I'm to spend another night here, and possibly more, you'll have to go home to get me some shirts and socks and other things.” He was gazing gloomily at his toes, “Have you seen those holes?” “I have. Our car's immobilized, but I can borrow one. If you want to keep up with developments you'd better shake a leg. The elder daughter thinks she saw or heard something last night that gave her an idea about someone using your car, and she's making up her mind whether to tell the DA about it. I tried to get her to tell me, but she was afraid I might pass it on to you. Still another proof I've seen my best days. At least you can be there when she spills it, if you'll get off that bed and put your shoes on.” He pushed himself up, swung his legs around, and grunted as he reached for his shoes. He had them on and was tying a lace when there was a knock at the door, and before I uttered an invitation it swung open. Jimmy Sperling appeared, said, “Dad wants you in the library,” and was gone, without closing the door.

Apparently his visits to mines had had a bad effect on his manners.

Wolfe took his time about getting his shirt-tail in and putting on his tie and vest and jacket. We went along the hall to the stairs, and down, and took the complicated route to the library without seeing a soul, and I supposed they had already assembled for the meeting, but they hadn't. When we entered there were only three people there: the District Attorney, the Chairman of the Board, and Webster Kane. Again Archer had copped the best chair and Wolfe had to take second choice. I was surprised to see Webster Kane and not to see Ben Dykes, and pleased not to see Madeline. Maybe there would still be time for me to finagle a priority on her idea.

Wolfe spoke to Archer, “I congratulate you, sir, on your good judgement. I knew that Mr Goodwin was incapable of such a shenanigan, but you didn't. You had to use your brain, and you did so.” Archer nodded. “Thanks. I tried to.” He looked around. “I had a bad afternoon in court, and I'm tired. I shouldn't be here, but I said I'd come. I'm turning this matter over to Mr Gurran, one of my assistants, who is a much better investigator than I am. He was tied up today and couldn't come with me, but he would like to come and talk with all of you tomorrow morning. Meanwhile-” “May I say something?” Sperling put in.

“Certainly. I wish you would.” Sperling spoke easily, with no tension in his voice or manner. Td like to tell you exactly what happened. When Dykes came in this morning and said he had evidence that it was Wolfe's car, I thought that settled it. I believe I said so. Naturally I thought it was Goodwin, knowing that he had driven to Chappaqua last evening. Then when I learned that you weren't satisfied that it was Goodwin, t was no longer myself satisfied, because I knew you would have welcomed that solution if it had been acceptable. I put my mind on the problem as it stood then, with the time limit narrowed as it was, and I remembered something. The best way to tell you about it is to read you a statement.” Spelling's hand went to his inside breast pocket and came out with a folded paper. “This is a statement,” he said, unfolding it, 'dated today and signed by Mr Kane. Webster Kane.” Archer was frowning. “By Kane?” “Yes. It reads as follows: “On Monday evening, June 20,1949, a little before half-past nine, I entered the library and saw on Mr Sperling's desk some letters which I knew he wanted mailed. I had heard him say so. I knew he was upset about some personal matter and supposed he had forgotten about them. I decided to go to Mount Kisco and mail them in the post office so they would make the early morning train. I left the house by way of the west terrace, intending to go to the garage for a car, but remembered that Nero Wolfe's car was parked near by, much closer than the garage, and decided to take it instead.

“The key was in the car. I started the engine and went down the drive. It was the last few minutes of dusk, not yet completely dark, and, knowing the drive well, I didn't switch the lights on. The drive is a little downhill, and I was probably going between twenty and twenty-five miles an hour. As I was approaching the bridge over the brook I was suddenly aware of an object in the drive, on the left side, immediately in front of the car. There wasn't time for me to realize, in the dim light, that it was a man. One instant I saw there was an object, and the next instant the car had hit it. I jammed my foot on the brake, but not with great urgency, because at that instant there was no flash of realization that I had hit a man. But I had the car stopped within a few feet. I jumped out and ran to the rear, and saw it was Louis Rony. He was lying about five feet back of the car, and he was dead. The middle of him had been completely crushed by the wheels of the car.