Rex Stout - Red Box, The

“Oh, that's it.” I grinned at him. “That's what those guys are, something else.

It describes them all right. And now you're turning him loose?”

“We are.” Cramer frowned. “A lawyer was beginning to heat things up, I suppose hired by Mrs. Frost. He got a habeas corpus a little while ago, and I couldn't see that Gebert was worth fighting for, and anyway, I doubt if we could have held him. Also the French consul started stirring around. Gebert's a French citizen. Of course we're putting a shadow on him, and what good will that do?

When a man like that has got knowledge about a crime there ought to be some way of tapping him the way you do a maple tree, and draw it out of him. Huh?”.

I nodded. “Sure, that'd be all right. It would be better than…” I shrugged.

“Never mind. Any news from the boys at Glennanne?”

“No.” Cramer clasped his hands behind his head, leaned back into them, chewed his cigar, and scowled at me. “You know, I hate to say this to you. But it's what I think. I wouldn't like to see you get hurt, but it might have been more sensible if we had had you down in Room Five all day instead of that Gebert.”

“Me?” I shook my head. “I don't believe it. After all I've done for you.”

“Oh, don't kid me. I'm tired, I'm not in a mood for it. I've been thinking. I know how Wolfe works. I don't pretend I could do it, but I know how he does it.

I admit he never yet has finished up on the wrong side, but you only have to break an egg once. It's just possible that in this case he has got his feet tangled up. He's working for the Frosts.”

“He's working for a Frost.”

“Sure, and that's funny too. First he said Lew hired him, and then the daughter.

I never knew him to shift clients like that before. Has it got anything to do with the fact that the fortune belongs to the daughter, but that it has been controlled by Lew's father for twenty years? And Lew's father, Dudley Frost, is a great one for keeping things to himself. We put it up to him that we're investigating a murder case and asked him to let us check the assets of the estate because there might be a connection that would be helpful. We asked him to cooperate. He told us to go chase ourselves. Frisbie up at the D.A.'s office tried to get at it through court action, but apparently there's no loophole. Now why did Wolfe all of a sudden quit Lew and transfer his affections to the other side of the family?”

“He didn't. It was what you might call a forced sale.”

“Yeah? Maybe. I'd like to see Nero Wolfe forced into anything. I noticed it happened right after McNair was croaked. All right; Wolfe had got hold of some kind of positive information. Where did he get it from? From that red box. You see, I'm not trying to play foxy, I'm just telling you. His stunt at Glennanne was a cover. Your play with Gebert was a part of it too. I haven't got an iota of proof of anything, but I'm telling you. And I warn you and I warn Wolfe: don't think I'm too dumb to find out eventually what was in that red box, because I'm not.”

I shook my head sadly. “You're all wet, inspector. Honest to God, you're dripping. If you've quit looking for the red box let us know, and well take a shot at it.”

“I haven't given it up. I'm making all the motions. I don't say Wolfe is deliberately covering a murderer, he'd have to get more than his feet tangled before he'd be fool enough to do that, but I do say he's withholding valuable evidence that I want. I don't pretend to know why; I don't pretend to know one damn thing about this lousy case. But I do think it's in the Frost family, because for one thing we haven't been able to uncover any other connection of

McNair's that offers any line at all. We don't get anything from his sister in

Scotland. Nothing in McNair's papers. Nothing from Paris. No trail on the poison. My only definite theory about the Frosts is something I dug up from an old family enemy, some old scandal about Edwin Frost disinheriting his wife because he didn't like her ideas about friendship with a Frenchman, and forcing her to sign away her dower rights by threatening to divorce her. Well, Gebert's a Frenchman, but McNair wasn't, and then what? It looks as if we're licked, huh?

Remember what I said Tuesday in Wolfe's office? But Wolfe is absolutely not a damned fool, and he ought to know better than to try to sit on a lid which sooner or later can be pried off. Will you take him a message from me?”

“Sure. Shall I write it down?”

“You won't need to. Tell him this Gebert is going to have a shadow on him from now on until this case is solved. Tell him that if the red box hasn't been found, or something else just as good, one of my best men will sail for France on the Normandie next Wednesday. And tell him that I know a few things already, for instance that in the past five years $60,000 of his client's money has been paid to this Gebert, and the Lord knows how much before that.”

“Sixty grand?” I raised the brows. “Of Helen Frost's money?”

“Yes. I suppose that's news to you.”

“It certainly is. Shucks, that much is gone where well never see it. How did she give it to him, nickels and dimes?”

“Don't try to be funny. I'm telling you this to tell Wolfe. Gebert opened a bank account in New York five years ago, and since then he has deposited a thousand dollar check every month, signed by Calida Frost. You know banks well enough to be able to guess how easy it was to dig that up.”

“Yeah. Of course, you have influence with the police. May I call your attention to the fact that Calida Frost is not our client?”

“Mother and daughter, what's the difference? The income is the daughter's, but I suppose the mother gets half of it. What's the difference?”

“There might be. For instance, that young lady up in Rhode Island last year that killed her mother. One was dead and the other one alive. That was a slight difference. What was the mother paying Gebert the money for?”

Cramer's eyes narrowed at me. “When you get home, ask Wolfe.”

I laughed. “Oh, come, Inspector. Come, come. The trouble with you is you don't see Wolfe much except when he's got the sawdust in the ring and ready to crack the whip. You ought to see him the way I do sometimes. You think he knows everything. I could tell you at least three things he never will know.”

Cramer socked his teeth into his cigar. “I think he knows where that red box is, and he's probably got it. I think that in the interest of a client, not to mention his own, he's holding back evidence in a murder case. And do you know what he expects to do? He expects to wait until May 7th to spring it, the day

Helen Frost will be twenty-one. How do you think I like that? How do you think they like it at the D.A.'s office?”

I slapped a yawn. “Excuse it, I only had six hours' sleep. I'll swear I don't know what I can say to convince you. Why don't you run up and have a talk with

Wolfe?”

“What for? I can see it. I sit down and explain to him why I think he's a liar.

He says 'indeed' and shuts his eyes and opens them again when he gets ready to ring for beer. He ought to start a brewery. Some great men, when they die, leave their brains to a scientific laboratory. Wolfe ought to leave his stomach.”