Rex Stout - In the Best Families

Zeck had of course started a chain reaction that went both deep and wide, and naturally there had been an earnest desire to make goats out of Wolfe and me, but they didn't have a damn' thing on us, and when word came from somewhere that

Wolfe, during his association with Zeck, might have collected some facts that could be embarrassing to people who shouldn't be embarrassed, the attitude towards us changed for the better right away.

As for the scene that ended with the death of Zeck and Rackham, we were clean as a whistle. The papers in Roeder's brief-case, which of course the cops took, proved nothing on anybody. By the time the cops arrived, there had been no one on the premises but Wolfe and me and the two corpses. A hot search was on, especially for Schwartz and Harry, but so far no take. No elaborate lying was required; our basic story was that Wolfe, in his disguise as Roeder, had got in with Zeck in order to solve the murder of Mrs Rackham, and the climax had come that afternoon when Zeck had put the screws on Rackham by saying that he had evidence that would convict him for killing his wife, and Rackham had pulled a gun, smuggled somehow past the sentinels, and had shot Zeck, and Schwartz and

Harry had rushed in and drilled Rackham. It was surprising and gratifying to note how much of it was strictly true.

So by Friday afternoon we were cleaned up with Westchester, as I thought, and therefore it was a minor shock when Wolfe said, “No, confound it, I still have to earn that fee.

I was opening my mouth to ask him how come, when the phone rang. I got it. It was Annabel Frey. She wanted to speak to Wolfe. I told him so. He frowned and reached for his phone, and I stayed on.

“Yes, Mrs Frey? This is Nero Wolfe.

“I want to ask you a favour, Mr Wolfe. That is, I expect to pay for it of course, but still it's a favour. Could you and Mr Goodwin come up here this evening? To my home, Birchvale?

“I'm sorry, Mrs Frey, but it's out of the question. I transact business only in my office. I never leave it.

That was a little thick, I thought, from a guy who had just spent five months the way he had. And if she read newspapers she knew all about it-or anyhow some.

“I'm sorry, she said, “because we must see you. Mr Archer is here, the District

Attorney, and I'm calling at his suggestion. We have a problem-two problems, really.

“By "we" do you mean you and Mr Archer?

“No, I mean all of us-all of us who inherited property from Mrs Rackham, and all of us who were here the night she was killed. Our problem is about evidence that her husband killed her. Mr Archer says he has none, none that is conclusive-and perhaps you know what people are saying, and the newspapers. That's what we want to consult you about-the evidence.

“Well. A pause. “I'm trying to get a little rest after a long period of over exertion. But-very well. Who is there?

“We all are. We met to discuss this. You'll come? Wonderful! If you-

“I didn't say I'll come. All five of you there?

“Yes-and Mr Archer-

“Be at my office, all of you, at nine o'clock this evening. Including Mr

Archer.

“But I don't know if he will-

“I think he will. Tell him I'll be ready then to produce the evidence.

“Oh, you will? Then you can tell me now-

“Not on the phone, Mrs Frey. I'll be expecting you at nine.

When we had hung up I lifted the brows at him. “So that's what you meant about earning that fee? Maybe?

He grunted, irritated that he had to interrupt his convalescence for a job of work, sat a moment, reached for a bottle of the beer Fritz had brought, grunted again, this time with satisfaction, and poured a glass with plenty of foam.

I got up to go to the kitchen, to tell Fritz we were having company and that refreshments might be required.

Chapter Twenty-One

I was mildly interested when the six guests arrived-a little early, five to nine-in such minor issues as the present state of relations between Annabel Frey and the banker, Dana Hammond, and between Lina Darrow and the statesman, Oliver

Pierce, and whether Calvin Leeds would see fit to apologise for his unjust suspicions about Wolfe and me.

To take the last first, Leeds was all out of apologies. The spring was in his step all right, but not in his manners. First to enter the office, he plumped himself down in the red leather chair, but I figured that Archer rated it ex officioand asked him to move, which he did without grace. As for the others, there was too much atmosphere to get any clear idea. They were all on speaking terms, but the problem that brought them there was in the front of their minds, so much so that no one was interested in the array of liquids and accessories that Fritz and I had arranged on the table over by the big globe. Annabel was in the most comfortable of the yellow chairs, to Archer's left; then, working towards me at my desk, Leeds and Lina Darrow; and Hammond and Pierce closest to me.

Wolfe's eyes swept the arc.

This, he said, “is a little awkward for me. I have met none of you before except Mr Leeds. I must be sure I have you straight. His eyes went along the line again. “I think I have. Now if you'll tell me what you want-you, Mrs Frey, it was you who phoned me.

Annabel looked at the D.A. “Shouldn't you, Mr Archer?

He shook his head. “No, you tell him.

She concentrated, at Wolfe. “Well, as I said, there are two problems. One is that it seems to be supposed that Barry Rackham killed his wife, but it hasn't been proved, and now that he is dead how can it be proved so that everyone will know it and the rest of us will be entirely free of any suspicion? Mr Archer says there is no official suspicion of us, but that isn't enough/

“It is gratifying, though, Wolfe murmured.

“Yes, but it isn't gratifying to have some of the people who say they are your friends looking at you as they do. Annabel was earnest about it. “Then the second problem is this. The law will not allow a man who commits a murder to profit by it. If Barry Rackham killed his wife he can't inherit property from her, no matter what her will said. But it has to be legally proved that he killed her, and unless that is done her will stands, and what she left to him will go to his heirs.

She made a gesture. “It isn't that we want it-the rest of us. It can go to the state or to charity-we don't care. But we think it's wrong and a shame for it to go to his people, whoever will inherit from him. It's not only immoral, it's illegal. It can't be stopped by convicting him of murder, because he's dead and can't be tried. My lawyer and Mr Archer both say we can bring action and get it before a court, but then we'll have to have evidence that he killed her, and Mr

Archer says he hasn't been able to get it from you, and he hasn't got it. But surely you can get it, or anyhow you can try. You see, that would solve both problems, to have a court rule that his heirs can't inherit because he murdered her.

“You have stated it admirably, Archer declared.

“We don't want any of it, Lina blurted.

“My interest, Pierce put in, “is only to have the truth fully and universally known and acknowledged.