Rex Stout - In the Best Families

Nobby was still there on the bench, and the knife was still in him. With only a glance at him in passing, I made for the little living-room, where I had previously seen a phone on a table, turned on a light, went to the phone, and got the operator and gave her a number. As I waited, a look at my wrist-watch showed me five minutes past midnight.

I hoped Wolfe hadn't forgotten to plug in the line to his room when he went up to bed. He hadn't. After the ring signal had come five times I had his voice.

“Nero Wolfe speaking.

“Archie. Sorry to wake you up, but I need orders. We're minus a client. Mrs

Rackham. This is a quick guess, but it looks as if someone stabbed her with a knife and then stuck the knife in a dog. Anyhow, she's dead. I've just-

“What is this? It was almost a bellow. “Flummery?

“No, sir. I've just come from where she's lying in the woods. Leeds and I found her. The dog's dead too, here on a bench. I don't-

“Archie!

“Yes, sir.

“This is insupportable. In the circumstances.

“Yes, sir, all of that.

“Is Mr Rackham out of it?

“Not as far as I know. I told you we just found her.

“Where are you?

“At Leeds' place, alone. I'm here guarding the knife in the dog. Leeds went to

Birchvale to get a doctor and the cops and maybe to kill somebody. I can't help it. I've got all the time in the world. How much do you want?

“Anything that might help.

“Okay, but in case I get interrupted here's a question first. On two counts, because I'm here working for you and because I helped find the body, they're going to be damn' curious. How much do I spill? There's no one on this line unless the operator's listening in.

A grunt and a pause. “On what I know now, everything about Mrs Rackham's talk with me and the purpose of your trip there. About Mrs Rackham and Mr Leeds and what you have seen and heard there, everything. But you will of course confine yourself strictly to that.

“Nothing about sausage?

“Absolutely nothing. The question is idiotic.

“Yeah, I just asked. Okay. Well, I got here and met dogs and people. Leeds' place is on a corner of Mrs Rackham's property, and we walked through the woods for dinner at Birchvale. There were eight of us at dinner…

I'm fairly good with a billiard cue, and only Saul Panzer can beat me at tailing a man or woman in New York, but what I am best at is reporting a complicated event to Nero Wolfe. With, I figured, a probable maximum of ten minutes for it,

I covered all the essentials in eight, leaving him two for questions. He had some, of course. But I think he had the picture well enough to sleep on when I saw the light of a car through the window, told him good-bye, and hung up. I stepped from the living-room into the little hall, opened the outside door, and was standing on the stone slab as a car with STATE POLICE painted on it came down the narrow drive and stopped. Two uniformed public servants piled out and made for me. I only hoped neither of them was my pet Westchester hate,

Lieutenant Con Noonan, and had my hope granted. They were both rank-and-file.

One of them spoke. “Your name Goodwin?

I conceded it. Dogs had started to bark.

“After finding a dead body you went off and came here to rest your feet?

“I didn't find the body. A dog did. As for my feet, do you mind stepping inside?

I held the door open, and they crossed the threshold. With a thumb I called their attention to Nobby, on the bench.

“That's another dog. It had just crawled here to die, there on the doorstep. It struck me that Mrs Rackham might have been killed with that knife before it was used on the dog, and that you guys would be interested in the knife as is, before somebody took it to slice bread with, for instance. So when Leeds went to the house to phone I came here. I have no corns.

One of them had stepped to the bench to look down at Nobby. He asked, “Have you touched the knife?

“No.

“Was Leeds here with you?

“Yes.

“Did he touch the knife?

“I don't think so. If he did I didn't see him.

The cop turned to his colleague. “We won't move it, not now. You'd better stick here. Right?

“Right.

“You'll be getting word. Come along, Goodwin.

He marched to the door and opened it and let me pass through first. Outdoors he crossed to his car, got in behind the wheel, and told me, “Hop in.

I stood. “Where to?

“Where I'm going.

“I'm sorry, I said regretfully, “but I like to know where. If it's White Plains or a barracks, I would need a different kind of invitation. Either that or physical help.

“Oh, you're a lawyer.

“No, but I know a lawyer.

“Congratulations. He leaned towards me and spoke through his nose. “Mr Goodwin,

I'm driving to Mrs Rackham's house, Birchvale. Would you care to join me?

“I'd love to, thanks so much, I said warmly, and climbed in.

Chapter Five

The rest of that night, more than six hours, from half-past midnight until well after sunrise, I might as well have been in bed asleep for all I got out of it.

I learned only one thing, that the sun rises on April ninth at 5.39, and even that wasn't reliable because I didn't know whether it was a true horizon.

Lieutenant Con Noonan was at Birchvale, among others, but his style was cramped.

Even after the arrival of District Attorney Cleveland Archer himself, the atmosphere was not one of single-minded devotion to the service of justice. Not that they weren't all for justice, but they had to keep it in perspective, and that's not easy when a prominent wealthy taxpayer like Mrs Barry Rackham has been murdered and your brief list of suspects includes (a) her husband, now a widower, who may himself now be a prominent wealthy taxpayer, (b) an able young politician who has been elected to the state assembly, (c) the dead woman's daughter-in-law, who may possibly be more of a prominent wealthy taxpayer than the widower, and (d) a vice-president of a billion-dollar New York bank. They're all part of the perspective, though you wish to God they weren't so you could concentrate on the other three suspects: (e) the dead woman's cousin, a breeder of dogs which don't make friends, (f) her secretary, a mere employee, and (g) a private dick from New York whose tongue has needed bobbing for some time. With a set-up like that you can't just take them all down to White Plains and tell the boys to start chipping and save the pieces.

Except for fifteen minutes alone with Con Noonan, I spent the first two hours in the big living-room where we had looked at television, having for company the members of the family, the guests, five members of the domestic staff, and two or more officers of the law. It wasn't a bit jolly. Two of the female servants wept intermittently. Barry Rackham walked up and down, sitting occasionally and then starting up again, speaking to no one. Oliver Pierce and Lina Darrow sat on a couch conversing in undertones, spasmodically, with him doing most of the talking. Dana Hammond, the banker, was jumpy. Mostly he sat slumped, with his chin down and his eyes closed, but now and then he would arise slowly as if something hurt and go to say something to one of the others, usually Annabel or