Rex Stout - In the Best Families

Rackham moseyed over to me and said he hoped the television hadn't bored me too much. I said no, just enough.

“Think you'll get anywhere on your job for Leeds? he asked, jiggling his highball glass to make the ice tinkle.

I lifted my shoulders and let them drop. “I don't know. A month's gone by.

He nodded. “That's what makes it hard to believe.

“Yeah, why?

“That he would wait a month and then decide to blow himself to a fee for Nero

Wolfe. Everybody knows that Wolfe comes high. I wouldn't have thought Leeds could afford it. Rackham smiled at me. “Driving back to-night?

“No, I'm staying over.

That's sensible. Night driving is dangerous, I think. The Sunday traffic won't be bad this time of year if you leave early. He touched my chest with a forefinger. That's it, leave early. He moved off.

Annabel was yawning, and Dana Hammorid was looking at her as if that was exactly what he had come to Birchvale for, to see her yawn. Lina Darrow was looking from

Barry Rackham to me and back again, and pretending she wasn't looking anywhere with those eyes. The Doberman pinscher was standing tense, and Pierce, from a safe ten feet-one more than springing distance-was regarding it with an expression that gave me a more sympathetic feeling for him than I ever expected to have for a statesman.

Calvin Leeds and Mrs Rackham were also looking at the dog, with a quite different expression.

“At least two pounds overweight, Leeds was saying. “You feed him too much.

Mrs Rackham protested that she didn't.

Then you don't run him enough.

“I know it, she admitted. “I will from now on, I'll be here more. I was busy to-day. I'll take him out now. It's a perfect night for a good walk-Barry, do you feel like walking?

He didn't. He was nice about it, but he didn't. She broadened the invitation to take in the group, but there were no takers. She offered to walk Leeds and me home, but Leeds said she would go too slow, and he should have been in bed long ago since his rising time was six o'clock. He moved, and told me to come on if I was coming.

We said good night and left.

The outdoor air was sharper now. There were a few stars but no moon, and alone with no flashlight I would never have been able to keep that trail through the woods and might have made the Hillside Kennels clearing by dawn. For Leeds a flashlight would have been only a nuisance. He strode along at the same gait as in the daytime, and I stumbled at his heels, catching my toes on things, teetering on roots and pebbles, and once going clear down. I am not a deerstalker and don't want to be. As we approached the kennels Leeds called out, and the sound came of many movements, but not a bark. Who wants a dog, let alone thirty or forty, not even human enough to bark when you come home?

Leeds said that since the poisoning he always took a look around before going to bed, and I went on in the house and up to the little room where I had put my bag. I was sitting on the bed in pyjamas, scratching the side of my neck and considering Barry Rackham's last-minute remarks, when Leeds entered downstairs and came up to ask if I was comfortable. I told him I soon would be, and he said good night and went down the short hall to his room.

I opened a window, turned out the light, and got into bed; but in three minutes

I saw it wasn't working. My practice is to empty my head simultaneously with dropping it on the pillow. If something sticks and doesn't want to come out I'll give it up to three minutes but no more. Then I act. This time, of course, it was Barry Rackham that stuck. I had to decide that he knew what I was there for or that he didn't, or, as an alternative, decide definitely that I wouldn't try to decide until to-morrow. I got out of bed and went and sat on a chair.

It may have taken five minutes, or it could have been fifteen: I don't know.

Anyhow it didn't accomplish anything except getting Rackham unstuck from my head for the night, for the best I could do was decide for postponement. If he had his guard up, so far I had not got past it. With that settled, I got under the covers again, took ten seconds to get into position on a strange mattress, and was off this time…

Nearly, but not quite. A shutter or something began to squeak. Calling it a shutter jerked me back part way, because there were no shutters on the windows, so it couldn't be that. I was now enough awake to argue. The sound continued, at brief intervals. It not only wasn't a shutter, it wasn't a squeak. Then it was a baby whining; but it wasn't, because it came from the open window, and there were no babies out there. To hell with it. I turned over, putting my back to the window, but the sound still came, and I had been wrong. It was more of a whimper than a whine. Oh, nuts.

I rolled out of bed, switched on a light, went down the hall to Leeds' door, knocked on it, and opened it.

“Well? he asked, full voice.

“Have you got a dog that whimpers at night?

“Whimpers? No.

“Then shall I go see what it is? I hear it through my window.

“It's probably-turn on the light, will you?

I found the wall switch and flipped it. His pyjamas were green with thin white stripes. Giving me a look which implied that here was one more reason for disapproving of my being there, he padded past me into the hall and on into my room, me following. He stood a moment to listen, crossed and stuck his head out the window, pulled it in again, and this time went by me with no look at all and moving fast. I followed him downstairs and to the side door, where he pushed a light switch with one hand while he opened the door with the other, and stepped outside.

“By God, he said. “All right, Nobby, all right.

He squatted.

I take back none of my remarks about Doberman pinschers, but I admit that that was no time to expand on them, nor did I feel like it. The dog lay on its side on the slab of stone with its legs twitching, trying to lift its head enough to look at Leeds; and from its side that was up, towards the belly and midway between the front and hind legs, protruded the chased silver handle of a knife.

The hair around was matted with blood.

The dog had stopped whimpering. Now suddenly it bared its teeth and snarled, but weakly.

“All right, Nobby, Leeds said. He had his palm against the side, forward, over the heart.

“He's about gone, he said.

I discovered that I was shivering, decided to stop, and did.

“Pull the knife out of him? I suggested. “Maybe-

“No. That would finish him. I think he's finished anyhow.

He was. The dog died as Leeds squatted there, and I stood, not permitting myself to shiver in the cold night breeze. I could see the slender muscular legs stretch tight and then go loose, and after another minute Leeds took his hand away and stood up.

“Will you please hold the door open? he asked. “It's off plumb and swings shut.

I obliged, holding it wide and standing aside to let him through. With the dog's body in his arms, he crossed to a wooden bench at one side of the little square hall and put the burden down. Then he turned to me. “I'm going to put something on and go out and look around. Come or stay, suit yourself.