Rex Stout - In the Best Families

“Hell, I said, “you look even more scared than you did the other day. And according to my men, either you've started sneaking out side doors or you've become a home-body. Who said boo?

Nothing I had to say interested him. “I said I wanted to see you every day, he stated. His voice was hoarse.

“I know, but I've been busy. Among other things, I spent an hour yesterday afternoon with Arnold Zeck.

That did interest him. “I think you're a goddam liar, Goodwin.

“Then I must have dreamed it. Driving into the garage, and being frisked, and the little vestibule, and fourteen steps down, and the two sentinels, and the soundproof door five inches thick, and the pinkish-grey walls and chairs and rugs, and him sitting there drilling holes in things, including me, with his eyes, and-

“When was this? Yesterday?

“Yeah. I was driven up, but now I know how to get there myself. I haven't got the password yet, but wait.

With an unsteady hand he put his glass down on a little table. “I told you before, Goodwin, I did not kill my wife.

“Sure, that's out of the way.

“How did it happen? Your going to see him.

“He sent Max Christy for me.

“That son of a bitch. Suddenly his mottled face got redder and he yelled at me,

“Well, go on! What did he say?

“He said I may have a big career ahead of me.

“What did he say about me?

I shook my head. Til tell you, Rackham. I think it's about time I let my better judgment in on this. I had never seen Zeck before, and he made quite an impression on me. I reached to my breast pocket. “Here's your six thousand dollars. I hate to let go of it, but-

“Put that back in your pocket.

“No, really, I-

“Put it back. He wasn't yelling now. “I don't blame you for being impressed by

Zeck-God knows you're not the first. But you're wrong if you think he can't ever miss and I'm all done. There's one thing you ought to realise: I can't throw in my hand on this one; I've got to play it out, and I'm going to. You've got me hooked, because I can't play it without you since you were there that night. All right, name it. How much?

I put the six grand on the little table. “My real worry, I said, “is not Zeck.

He is nothing to sneer at and he does make a strong impression, but I have been impressed before and got over it. What called my better judgment in was the New

York statutes relating to accessories to murder. Apparently Zeck has got evidence that will convict you. If you-

“He has not. That's a lie.

“He seems to think he has. If you want to take dough from a murderer for helping him beat the rap you must be admitted to the bar, and I haven't been. So with my sincere regret at my inability to assist you in your difficulty, there's your dough.

“I'm not a murderer, Goodwin.

“I didn't mean an actual murderer. I meant a man against whom evidence has been produced in court to convince a jury. He and his accessory get it just the same.

Rackham's bloodshot eyes were straight and steady at me. “I'm not asking you to help me beat a rap. I'm asking you not to help frame me-and to help me keep Zeck from framing me.

“I know, I said sympathetically. “That's the way you tell it, but not him. I don't intend to get caught in a backwash. I came here chiefly to return your money and to tell you that it's got beyond the point where I name a figure and you pay it and then we're all hunky-dory, but I do have a suggestion to make if you care to hear it-strictly on my own.

Rackham started doing calisthenics. His hands, resting on his thighs, tightened into fists and then opened again, and repeated it several times. It made me impatient watching him, because it seemed so inadequate to the situation. By now the picture was pretty clear, and I thought that a guy who had had enough initiative to venture into the woods at night to stalk his wife, armed only with a steak knife, when she had her Doberman pinscher with her, should now, finding himself backed into a corner, respond with something more forceful than sitting there doing and undoing his fists.

He spoke. “Look, Goodwin, I'm not myself, I know damn' well I'm not. It's been nearly five months now. The first week it wasn't so bad-there was the excitement, all of us suspected and being questioned; if they had arrested me then I wouldn't have skipped a pulse beat. I would have met it fair and square and fought it out. But as it stretched out it got tougher. I had broken off with

Zeck without thinking it through-the way it looked then, I ought to get clean and keep clean, especially after the hearings in Washington, those first ones, and after the New York District Attorney took a hand. But what happened, every time the phone rang or the doorbell, it hit me in the stomach. It was murder. If they came and took me or sent for me and kept me, I could be damn' sure it had been fixed so they thought it would stick. A man can stand that for a day or a week, or a month perhaps, but with me it went on and on, and by God, I've had about all I can take.

He had ended his calisthenics with the fists closed tight, the knobs of the knuckles the colour of boils. “I made a mistake with Zeck, he said fretfully.

“When I broke it off he sent for me and as good as told me that the only thing between me and the electric chair was his influence. I lost my temper. When I do that I can never remember what I said, but I don't think I actually told him that I had evidence of blackmailing against him personally. Anyhow, I said too much. He opened his fists and spread his fingers wide, his palms flat on his thighs. “Then this started, this stretching into months. Did you say you have a suggestion?

“Yeah. And brother, you need one.

“What is it?

“On my own, I said.

“What is it?

“For you and Zeck to have a talk.

“What for? No matter what he said I couldn't trust him.

Then you'd be meeting on even terms. Look straight at it. Could your wife trust you? Could your friends trust you-the ones you helped Zeck get at? Could I trust you? I warned you not to trust me, didn't I? There are only two ways for people to work together: when everybody trusts everyone or nobody trusts no one. When you mix them up it's a mess. You and Zeck ought to get along fine.

“Get along with Zeck?

“Certainly. I turned a palm up. “Listen, you're in a hole. I never saw a man in a deeper one. You're even willing and eager to shell out to me, a double-crosser you can't trust, to give you a lift. You can't possibly expect to get out in the clear with no ropes tied to you-what the hell, who is? Your main worry is getting framed for murder, so your main object is to see that you don't. That ought to be a cinch. Zeck has a new man, a guy named Roeder, came here recently from the coast, who has started to line up an operation that's a beaut. I've been assigned to help on it, and I think I'm going to. It's as tight as a drum and as slick as a Doberman pinscher's coat. With the help of a man placed as you are, there would be absolutely nothing to it, without the slightest risk of any noise or a comeback.