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

“Oh!” she said in a tone of surprise. I didn’t say pleased surprise. “Major Goodwin!”

“Right,” I said cheerfully. “You sure have a memory for faces. My eye’s bothering me again.”

“That’s too bad, sir.” She seemed perfectly affable, but the door showed no inclination to exercise its hinges. “As I told you, I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“Not in this bum light you can’t. Nice little place you’ve got here. Are these your own things, or do you rent it furnished? Some of them must be yours. It just looks like you.”

“Oh, thank you, sir. It’s the woman’s touch, of course.”

“Yeah. I never saw a more attractive door. I’ll tell you what. I could say, Sergeant Bruce, I wish to come in and have a little talk with you. Or I could simply push and enter. Let’s compromise. You propel the door and I’ll propel me.”

She nearly laughed, but it didn’t get beyond a sort of a chuckle. Anyhow the door swung open and she invited me nicely, “Come in, Major.” Also she closed it. The foyer was about the size of a suitcase. At a gesture I preceded her into a room which wasn’t like her at all because it wasn’t like anybody. Pure month-to-month-or-reduction-on-a-lease. Two windows. A couch and three chairs. Door to kitchenette and door to bedroom. A glance gave me that, and when I turned she was there and smiling at me. It was absolutely a female smile, and at any previous moment I would have considered it a big step forward, but something had come between us if logic was worth its salt. Still I kept it on a friendly basis.

I asked her, “Remember that carton you were packing your things in at the office? I need one exactly that size, and if you’re through with it I’d like to make an offer.”

She was good. She was very good. The way the smile went and her lips parted a little and her eyes widened-it was just what you would expect if I had said something fairly silly and unquestionably cuckoo.

Then she smiled again and said, “I can get one for you wholesale.”

I shook my head. “Your mistake. You didn’t say sir . The idea is this. I won’t be happy until I see that carton, and I’m hell-bent for happiness. Either you trot it out or I tour the place. You can save me trouble and both of us time.”

“Is that an official command, sir? Are you here as my superior officer or as-yourself?”

“Any way you like it. Whichever you prefer. Take it going and coming and call it both, but get the carton.”

She moved. To get to the door to the bedroom she had to detour around me, which she did, and disappeared through the opening. But I had decided that probably not much was beyond her up to sailing off on a broomstick, so I stepped across on my toes to the doorway to keep her in sight. But either I made some noise or she was suspicious by nature, because halfway across the bedroom she turned and saw me. She came back and took hold of the knob of the door, obviously intending to close it when the obstruction, namely me, was removed.

“You can wait out there,” she said, and meant it. “I’ll bring the carton.”

I was not particularly enjoying things, and it was getting too prolonged for me. Evidently she had been headed for a closed closet door at the far corner of the room. I stepped past her, rounded the foot of the bed and got to the door, and pulled it open. I admit I was surprised enough to back up two steps when a uniform, erect in the closet, moved toward me, and there was Lieutenant Kenneth Lawson. He came out and stood and looked at me. He didn’t salute.

“Indeed,” I said. That was Nero Wolfe’s word, and I never used it except in moments of stress, and it severely annoyed me when I caught myself using it, because when I look in a mirror I prefer to see me as is, with no skin grafted from anybody else’s hide, even Nero Wolfe’s.

Lawson, as I have said, was big and strong and handsome. The situation, as it stood, seemed to indicate that anything was possible, and I had no desire to join Cross and Ryder on the other side of the river, so I backed into the closet with the door opened as wide as it would go. It wasn’t necessary to do any searching. The carton was right there, bound with cord. I yanked it out, jerked off the cord, lifted the flaps, and was looking at shredded pigskin. For logic, one hit, one run, no errors. I closed the flaps and got the cord back on. Among other things I didn’t know, at that point, was whether Lawson was there on purely personal business or whether he was a partner in the enterprise of salvaging damaged luggage, so the position was delicate in more ways than one.

Lawson said, with no special sign of agitation, “I heard Bruce ask you-and it might clear things up a little-is this an official visit, Major?”

After all, he had me. Wolfe had told me to get the suitcase without the knowledge of Fife, and Fife was my commanding officer. My ignorance was stupendous. Was Lawson straight and would he report to Fife? Was Lawson a crook or a murderer, or both-and would he report to Fife anyway to cover up? Were Lawson and Sergeant Bruce- But there was no sense standing there all night asking myself questions I couldn’t answer, with them staring at me.

I spoke. “Ladies and gentlemen. I have been assigned, as you know, to assist Nero Wolfe in work he is doing for the Army. I’m now going to report to him, and take this carton with me. Up to there, as far as you’re concerned, since you’re only a non-com and a shavetail, we can put it that the only difference between General Eisenhower and me is that he’s not here. But beyond that we’re just folks. If on my way out Lawson tries to trip me or hit me with a chair I won’t appeal to authority, now or later. I’ll merely knock his block off.”

A corner of Lawson’s mouth was turned up. “I wasn’t going to be so crude,” he said coldly, “but now I don’t know.”

“Make up your mind, brother,” I told him, and focused on Sergeant Bruce. “So I offer a suggestion. Not an order from Major Goodwin, just a person-to-person call. How about accompanying the carton and me to Wolfe’s place? I’ve got a car down in front. The trip might do you good.”

If she had flashed a glance at Lawson that would have answered at least one of my questions, but all she did was cock her head at me.

“I think,” she said, “that I ought to tell you you’ll probably be sorry for this, Major.”

“I already am. I don’t like any part of it. Are you coming?”

“Certainly. That carton and its contents belong to me.” She moved, crossing to Lawson and putting her hand on his arm. “Ken darling, this is nothing. Really. But I’m afraid-I don’t know how long it will take. I’ll phone you later. And perhaps you had better phone my sister in Washington-right away.”

“I could,” he growled, “wring him out and hang him up to dry.”

“I’m sure you could.” She patted his arm. “But you behave yourself. There’s more than one way to-cure a cold. Phone me later, Ken?”

“I will.”

“Be sure the door’s locked when you leave. Are we going, Major?”

Lawson didn’t move a muscle as I passed him, with the carton in the hand nearest him, so the other hand would be free in case he decided to show her how big and brave he was. But either she was the boss and he was obeying orders, or he wanted to be alone to think. I signified that she, being a lady, should go first, and she did so, stopping in the other room only to get her peck-measure cap from the table, and letting me close the door after us and push the button for the elevator as if she enjoyed having a male escort attend to such details.