Rex Stout - Murder by the Book

"I don't believe it!" Sue exclaimed.

"Come here and look at them. No, please, only Miss Don-dero. The envelope must not be touched."

I made room for her to get by. She went to his desk and leaned over for a close-up. She straightened. "That's a different envelope. I didn't type that. I always put 'By Messenger' in caps and lower case and underline it. That's all in caps and it's not underlined. Where did you get it?" ^

• "If you please, Miss Donderq, take your seat." Wolfe returned the sheet and envelope to the drawer, touching only the tip of the envelope. He waited until Sue was back on the couch and he had her face before he told lier, "Thank you for being positive. That's a help. But you're sure you put the letter and enclosures into the envelope you had typed?"

"Yes, lam."

"And sealed it?"

"Yes."

"And left it lying on your desk, perhaps, or in a basket?"

"No, I didn't. It was to go by messenger, and I had sent for one. I went immediately to the anteroom and put it on Blanche's desk and asked her to give it to the messenger when he came."

"Who is Blanche?"

"The receptionist. Miss Duke."

Wolfe's eyes moved. "Which of you is Miss Duke?"

Blanche raised a hand, high. "I am. And I get the idea, I'm quick. You're going to ask me if I put the stuff in another envelope, and I'm going to say I didn't. And I don't know who did. But Mr. O'Malley came and said something about something left out and took the envelope away with him."

"Mr. O'Malley?"

"Yes."

"Did he bring it back?"

"Yes."

"How soon? How long was he gone with it?"

"I don't know, I guess three or four minutes. Anyway he brought it back, and when the messenger came I gave it to him."

"Did you notice whether it was the same envelope?"

"My God, no!"

"This is important, Miss Duke. Will you testify that Mr. O'Malley took the envelope from your desk, left the room with it, and shortly returned with it or with a similar one?"

"What do you mean, will I? I am!"

Wolfe's eyes left her to move right and back again, still above the heads of the lawyers. "We seem to be solving our problem," he remarked. "One more detail would help. Clearly we must assume that Mr. O'Malley addressed another envelope and transferred the material to it. If so, it seems likely that one of you ladies saw him do it, though I don't know how the typewriters are placed in that office. What about it? That Saturday morning, nine days ago, did any of you see Mr. O'Malley address an envelope on a typewriter?"

No reply. He had their eyes all right, but not their tongues.

He nodded understanding^. "It may be, of course, that he used a machine that wasn't under observation. Or he may have been seen by one of the staff who is not present, and that will bear inquiry. But I should make sure that all of you understand the situation. This envelope is vital evidence. If Mr. O'Malley handled it and typed an address on it, it will probably show his prints, for I don't suppose he wore gloves in the office that

morning. Not only that, it will be a simple matter to learn which machine it was written on. If it was a machine that is on the desk of one of you ladies, and you were there that morning, and Mr. O'Malley denies that he used it, you may find yourself in an uncomfortable spot. The police may properly ask-•"

"It was my machine." It was a sullen mutter, so low that it barely got through, and it came from the beautiful Eleanor, of all people.

"Ah. May I have your name?"

"Eleanor Gruber." She muttered it,

"You will please tell us about it, Miss Gruber."

"I was at the filing cabinet and he asked if-"

"Mr. O'Malley?"

"Yes. He asked if he could use my machine, and I said yes. That was all."

"Did he address an envelope on it?"

"I don't know. I was at the cabinet with my back turned. I said it was my machine, but I should have said it may have been."

"There was a supply of the firm's envelopes in your desk?"

"Certainly. In the top drawer."

"How long was he at it?"

"I don't-very briefly."

"Not more than a minute or so?"

"I said very briefly. I didn't time it."

"But long enough to address an envelope?"

"Of course, that only takes seconds."

"Did you see an envelope in his hand?"

"No. I wasn't looking. I was busy."

"Thank you, Miss Gruber. I'm sorry your memory needed jogging, and I'm glad it's refreshed." Wolfe focused on Con-roy O'Malley. "Mr. O'Malley, you ought to have a word. I won't frame a tedious detailed question, but merely ask, did you do the things these people say you did that Saturday morning?"

O'Malley was a different man. The bitter twist to his mouth was gone, and so was the sag of his cheeks. He was ten years younger, and his eyes gleamed almost like eyes in the dark with a light on them. His voice had a sharp edge.

"I'd rather listen to you. Until you're through."

"Very well. I'm not through. Is it plain that I'm accusing you of murder?"

"Yes. Go on."

Purley Stebbins got up, detoured around Cramer and Briggs, got an empty chair, put it just behind O'Malley's right elbow, and sat. O'Malley didn't glance at him. Wolfe was speaking.

"Manifestly, establishing that O'Malley got at that letter in order to make that notation on it in Corrigan's hand before it came to me will not convict him of murder. By then all of you had heard the title Of Baird Archer's novel, 'Put Not Your Trust,' and anyone could have known or learned that it came from the third verse of the Hundred and Forty-sixth Psalm. But it shows that he wanted to present me with evidence that someone in your office was connected with the manuscript and therefore with the crimes, and that that someone was Corrigan, I am going-"

"Why Corrigan?" Kustin demanded.

"That's what I'm coming to. I'm going to have to tell you things I can't prove, as I did with X. It is still X, only now I call him O'Malley. An odd thing about this confession is that nearly every detail of it is true and strictly accurate. The man who wrote it did find the manuscript in Dykes's desk and read it; he found that its contents were as described; he went to see Dykes and talked with him as related; he killed Dykes essentially for the reason given, fear of what might result from his knowledge of the contents of the manuscript; he killed Miss Wellman and Miss Abrams for a like reason. But it was O'Malley who wrote the confession. He-"

"You're crazy," Kustin blurted. "The manuscript revealed that Corrigan had informed on O'Malley. Is that right?"

"Yes."

"And O'Malley learned that fact by finding and reading the manuscript?"

"Yes."

"So he killed three people to keep it from being known that Corrigan had informed on him? For God's sake!"

"No. He killed three people so he could safely kill a fourth." Wolfe was on his way now. "When he learned that it was Corrigan who had ruined his career, destroyed him, he determined to kill Corrigan. But no matter how cleverly he managed it, Dykes would be an intolerable menace. Dykes knew that O'Malley knew of Corrigan's treachery, and if Corrigan met a sudden and violent death, no matter how, Dykes might speak. So first Dykes had to go, and he did. Then Joan Wellman-was she also a menace? O'Malley had to find out, and