Rex Stout - The Second Confesion

“Your name, please?” I asked, hoping my voice was the same too.

“Tell him a personal matter.” I covered the transmitter with a palm and told Wolfe, “X.” He frowned. “What?” “You heard me. X.” He reached for his phone. Getting no sign to do otherwise, I stayed on.

“Nero Wolfe speaking.” “How do you do, Mr Wolfe. Goodwin told you who I am? Or my voice does?” “I know the voice.” “Yes, it's easily recognized, isn't it? You ignored the advice I gave you Saturday. You also ignored the demonstration you received Sunday night. May I say that that didn't surprise me?” “You may say anything.” “It didn't, I hope there will never be occasion for a more pointed demonstration. It's a more interesting world with you in it. Have you opened the package you received a little while ago?” “Yes.” “I don't need to explain why I decided to reimburse you for the damage to your property. Do I?” “Yes.” “Oh, come. Surely not. Not you. If the amount you received exceeds the damage, no matter. I intended that it should. The District Attorney has decided that Rony's death is fully and satisfactorily explained by Kane's statement, and no charge will be made. You have already indicated that you do not concur in that decision by your inquiry to the New York police laboratory, and anyway of course you wouldn't. Not you. Rony was an able young man with a future, and he deserves to have his death investigated by the best brain in New York. Yours. I don't live in New York, as you know. Good-bye and good luck.” The connection went. Wolfe cradled his receiver. I did likewise, I whistled. “Now there's a client for you. Money by messenger, snappy phone call, hopes he'll never have to demonstrate by croaking you, keep the change, best brain in New York, go to it, click. As I think I said once before, he's an abrupt bastard' Wolfe was sitting with his eyes closed to slits. I asked him, “How do I enter it? Under X, or Z for Zeck?” “Archie,” “Yes, sir.” “I told you once to forget that you know that man's name, and I meant it The reason is simply that I don't want to hear his name because he is the only man on earth that I'm afraid of. I'm not afraid he'll hurt me; I'm afraid of what he may some day force me to do to keep him from hurting me. You heard what I told Mr Sperling.” “Okay. But I'm the book-keeper. What do I put it under, X?” Don't put it. First, go through it. As you do so you might as well count it, but the point is to see if there is anything there besides money. Leave ten thousand dollars in the safe. I'll need it soon, tomorrow probably, for something that can't appear in our records. For your information only, it will be for Mr Jones.

Take the remainder to a suburban bank, say somewhere in New Jersey, and put it in a safe deposit box which you will rent under an assumed name. If you need a reference, Mr Parker will do. After what happened Sunday night-we'll be prepared for contingencies. If we ever meet him head on and have to cut off from here and from everyone we know, we'll need supplies. I hope I never touch it. I hope it's still there when I die, and if so it's yours.” Thank you very much. I'll be around eighty then and I'll need it.” “You're welcome. Now for this afternoon. First, what about the pictures you took up there?” “Six o'clock. That was the best they could do.” “And the keys?” “You said after lunch. They'll be ready at one-thirty.” “Good. Saul will be here at two?” “Yes, sir.” “Have Fred and Orrie here this evening after dinner. I don't think you'll need them this afternoon; you and Saul can manage. This is what we want. There must-”

But that was postponed by the arrival of Doc Vollmer. Doc's home and office were on our street, toward Tenth Avenue, and over the years we had used his services for everything from stitching up Dora Chapin's head to signing a certificate that Wolfe was batty. When he called he always went to one of the smaller yellow chairs because of his short legs, sat, took off his spectacles and looked at them, put them on again, and asked, “Want some pills?” Today he added, “I'm afraid I'm in a hurry.” “You always are,” Wolfe said, in the tone he uses only to the few people he really likes. “Have you read about the Rony case?” “Of course. Since you're involved in it-or were.” “I still am. The body is at the morgue in White Plains. Will you go there?

You'll have to go to the District Attorney's office first to get yourself accredited. Tell them I sent you, and that I have been engaged by one of Mr Rony's associates. If they want more than that they can phone me, and I'll try and satisfy them. You want to examine the body-not an autopsy, merely superficially, to determine whether he died instantly or was left to suffer a prolonged agony. What I really want you to inspect is his head, to see if there is any indication that he was knocked out by a blow before the car ran over him.

I know the chance of finding anything conclusive is remote, but I wish you'd try, and there'll be no grumbling about your charge for the trip.” Vollmer blinked. “It would have to be done this afternoon?” “Yes, sir.” “Have you any idea what weapon might have been used?” “No, sir.” “According to the papers he had no family, no relatives at all Perhaps I should know whom I'm representing-one of his professional associates?” “I'll answer that if they ask it. You're representing me.” “I see. Anything to be mysterious.” Vollmer stood up. “If one of my patients dies while I'm gone-” He left it hanging and trotted out, making me move fast to get to the front door in time to open it for him. His habit of leaving like that, as soon as he had all he really needed, was one of the reasons Wolfe bleed him.

I returned to the office.

Wolfe leaned back. “We have only ten minutes until lunch. Now this afternoon, for you and Saul…”

CHAPTER Fifteen

The locksmith soaked me $8.80 for eleven keys. That was about double the market, but I didn't bother to squawk because I knew why: he was still collecting for a kind of a lie he had told a homicide dick six years ago at my suggestion. I think he figured that he and I were fellow crooks and therefore should divvy.

Even with keys it might have taken a little manoeuvring if Louis Rony had lived in an apartment house with a doorman and elevator man, but as it was there was nothing to it. The address on East Thirty-seventh Street was an old five-storey building that had been done over in good style, and in the downstairs vestibule was a row of mail-boxes, push buttons, and perforated circles for reception on the speaking tube. Rony's name was at the right end, which meant the top floor.

The first key I tried was the right one, and Saul and I entered, went to the self-service elevator, and pushed the button marked 5. It was the best kind of set-up for an able young man with a future like Rony, who had probably had visitors of all kinds at all hours.

Upstairs it was the second key I tried that worked. Feeling that I was the host, in a way, I held the door open for Saul to precede me and then followed him in.

We were at the centre of a hall, not wide and not very long. Turning right, towards the street front, we stepped into a fairly large room with modern furniture that matched, bright-coloured rugs that had been cleaned not long ago, splashy coloured pictures on the walls, a good supply of books, and a fireplace.

“Pretty nice,” Saul remarked, sending his eyes around. One difference between Saul and me is that I sometimes have to look twice at a thing to be sure I'll never lose it, but once will always do for him.