Rex Stout - Not Quite Dead Enough (The Rex Stout Library)

I went over to Roy. “How are you? Can you walk?”

“Walk?” He had quit trembling. “Where is there to walk to? We’ve got to get-”

“Look here,” I said. “Ann’s dead. Somebody killed her. We want to find out who did it. Don’t we?”

“Yes.” He showed his teeth. It was like a dog snarling in its sleep. “I do.”

“Then come along.” I took hold of his arm. “We’re going somewhere.”

“But we can’t-just leave her-”

“We can’t help her any. We’ll notify the police, but not from here. I tell you I know something about this. Come on, let’s get going.”

I hefted his arm, and he got to his feet, and I headed him for the door. I had decided against fingerprints there, so I used my handkerchief for wiping the knob and turning it, and the same on the outside. The hall was deserted and there was no sound of life. I hustled Roy along, got him out to the street, and turned toward Christopher, taking a normal pedestrian gait. My heart was pumping. I admit it. It looked as if I was going to put it over, with only one item left, to dispose of Roy for 24 hours.

I took him into a bar on Seventh Avenue, got him onto a chair at a table, ordered two double Scotches, told him I’d be back in a minute, and went to the phone booth and dialed a number.

“Lily? Me. Are you packing?”

“Yes, damn you. What-”

“Me talking. No time for explanations. All for now is, don’t leave till I phone you again. Okay?”

“Did you go-”

“Sorry. Busy. Stay there till I phone you.”

Back at the table, Roy was fingering his glass and beginning to tremble again. I saw that he got the drink down, all of it, and then leaned forward to him:

“Now listen, Roy. Get this. You can trust me. You know who I am, and you know who Nero Wolfe is. That ought to be enough. We’re going to find out who killed Ann, and you’ve got to help us. You want to, don’t you?”

He was frowning. The kick of the drink was putting color in his face. “But the police-” he began.

“Sure, the police will be on it any minute, as soon as Mrs. Chack gets home. And I’ll phone them myself, and I’ll be working with them. But I’ve got a line on this that I don’t dare tell them about. Do you know Lily Rowan? By sight?”

“No, I’ve never seen her.”

“Well, I think she’s going to skip. I’m sure of it. She lives at the Ritz. We’ll go there now, and if she comes out with luggage I’ll point her out to you, and you follow her. Hang onto her no matter where she goes. Will you do that?”

His cheeks were flushed. Apparently he was no soak. He said, “I’ve never followed anybody. I don’t know how.”

“All it takes is intelligence, and you’ve got that.” I got out my wallet, extracted five twenties, and handed them to him. “I would do it myself, only I must do something else. And this is important, remember this: don’t try to report to me until Thursday morning at nine o’clock, and then report by telephone, no matter where you are, and then either to Nero Wolfe or to me. Nobody else.” I finished my drink. “You’ve got to do this, Roy. I’ll make a phone call and then we’ll go. Well? Have you got it in you?”

He nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

“Good for you. I’ll be back in a minute.”

I went to the phone booth and dialed the number again.

“Lily, my angel? Me. Get this. In twenty minutes, maybe less, I’ll be on the sidewalk at the Madison Avenue entrance of the Ritz, and Roy Douglas will be with me. He’s the guy that was there when you arrived at Wolfe’s house. I’ll point you out to him and he’ll follow you, tail you. I want him out of town for a day or so, and this is the only way I can work it. When you take a taxi to the railroad station-”

“I’m not going to a railroad station. I’m going to the Worthington at Greenwich, and I’m going to drive-”

“No. Take a train. This is part of the deal, or the deal’s off. Be sure he doesn’t lose you. When you buy your ticket at Grand Central, be sure he’s close enough to hear where to, and be sure he makes the train. Take a day coach, no parlor car. He’ll stay at the Worthington too. Keep an eye on him, but don’t let him know you know he’s tailing you. Don’t do any horseback riding or anything to frustrate him. We’ll be there in twenty minutes. Make it as soon after as you can, because I’m busy-”

“Wait a minute! Archie! You’re batty. Have you been there? To Ann’s apartment?”

“Certainly not. No time-”

“Then where did you get that Roy Douglas?”

“Caught up with him before he got there. No time for explanations. See you Saturday, if not before.”

When I got back to the table, the darned fool was having another drink. I called the waiter and paid for it.

Then Roy said, “I can’t do it. I can’t go. I forgot about my birds. I have to take care of my birds.”

Another complication, as if I didn’t already have enough to contend with. I got him out of there and into a taxi, and on the way uptown I managed to sell him the idea that I would get in touch with Miss Leeds before 8:00 in the morning and arrange with her to tend the pigeons. The chief trouble now was that he was more than half lit, and what with that and the shock he had had it was a question how much comprehension he had left, so I carefully repeated all the instructions and made sure he knew which pocket the hundred bucks were in.

At that, he seemed to have things fairly under control when we got out at the Ritz. It worked like a charm. We hadn’t been waiting more than ten minutes when Lily came out, with only three pieces of luggage, which for her was practically a paper bag. As she waited for the taxi door to be opened I saw her get me out of the corner of her eye, and I handed Roy into another taxi, shook his hand and told him I trusted him, and instructed the driver to hang onto the taxi in front at any cost. I stood and watched them roll off.

My watch said 7:45. I entered the Ritz and sent a telegram to Miss Leeds, signing it Roy Douglas, asking her to take care of my pigeons. I wanted to get back to 35th Street as soon as possible, because it was an open question whether the note I had written to Ann would be discovered by the first squad man that got there, or hours later when the medicals started on the p.m., and I simply had to be home when the phone rang or a visitor arrived. But one little errand had first call, because it was urgent. After all, Roy Douglas was Ann’s fiance, and although it seemed incredible that he could have been coolheaded enough to sit and chin with me about pigeons just after strangling his sweetheart, I had to make sure if I didn’t want to make a double-breasted boob of myself. So I went for a phone book and a phone.

It took nearly three-quarters of an hour. First I dialed the number of the National Bird League on the chance that someone might be working late, but there was no answer. Then I went to it. I tried the Times and Gazette , and finally found someone on the Herald Tribune who gave me the name and address of the president of the National Bird League. He lived in Mount Kisco. I phoned there, and he was in Cincinnati, but his wife gave me the name and address of the secretary of the League. I got her, a Brooklyn number, and by gum she had been away from the office that afternoon, attending a meeting, and I had to put all I had on the ball to coax out of her the name and phone number of another woman who worked in the office. At last I had a break; the woman was at home, and apparently bored, for I didn’t have to coax her to talk. She worked at the desk next to Ann Amory, and they had left the office together that afternoon at a couple of minutes after five. So it was worth all the trouble, since that was settled. Roy had got to Wolfe’s house at 4:55, before Ann had even left the office. It was gratifying to know I hadn’t slipped the murderer a hundred bucks to take a trip to the country.