Rex Stout - Homicide Trinity (Crime Line)

I cocked my head. "Look," I said. "Apparently you don't realize. It's already been on the radio, and tomor- row it will be in the papers, that a woman who had come to consult Nero Wolfe was murdered in his office, stran- gled with his necktie, while he was up playing with his orchids and chatting with Archie Goodwin. I can hear the horse laugh from here. Mr. Wolfe couldn't swallow any dinner; he wouldn't even try. We knew and felt all this the second we saw her there on the floor. If we had known which member of the firm it was, if she had told me his name, what would we have done? You ought to know, since you claim you know us. I would have gone after him. Mr. Wolfe would have left the office, shut the door, and gone to the kitchen, and would have been there drinking beer when Fritz came home. When he went to the office and discovered the body would have depended on when and what he heard from me. With any luck I would have got here with the murderer before you and the scientists arrived. That wouldn't have erased the fact that she had been strangled with his necktie, but it would have blurred it. I give you this just to show you that you don't know us as well as you think you do. As for your believing me, I couldn't care less."

His sharp gray eyes were narrowed at me. "So you would have gone and got him. So he killed her. Huh? How did he know she was here? How did he get in?"

I produced a word I'll leave out, and added, "Again? I have discussed that with Stebbins, and Rowcliff, and you. Now again?"

"What the hell," he said. He folded the statement and stuck it in his pocket, shoved his chair back, got up, growled at me, "If it costs me both eyes," and tramped out. From the hall he spoke to Stebbins in the office. It will give you some idea of how low I was when I say that I didn't even go to the hall to see that they took only what belonged to them. You might think that after being in the house five hours Purley would have stepped to the door to say good night, but no. I heard the front door close with a bang, so it was Purley. Cramer never banged doors.

I slumped further down in my chair. At twenty min- utes to midnight I said aloud, "I could go for a walk," but apparently that didn't appeal to me. At 11:45 I arose, picked up the carbons of my statement, went to the office, and put them in a drawer of my desk. Looking around, I saw that they had left it in fairly decent shape. I went and brought the typewriter and put it where it belonged, tried the door of the safe, went to the hall to see that the front door was locked and put the chain bolt on, and proceeded to the kitchen. Fritz was in my breakfast chair, humped over with his forehead on the edge of the table.

"You're pie-eyed," I said.

His head came up. "No, Archie. I have tried, but no."

"Go to bed."

"No. He will be hungry."

"He may never be hungry again. Pleasant dreams."

I went to the hall, mounted one flight, turned left, tapped on the door, heard a sound that was half growl and half groan, opened the door, and entered. Wolfe, fully clothed, wearing a necktie, was in the big chair with a book.

"They've gone," I said. "Last ones out, Cramer and Stebbins. Fritz is standing watch in the kitchen expect- ing a call for food. You'd better buzz him. Is there any alternative to going to bed?"

"Can you sleep?" he demanded.

"Probably. I always have."

"I can't read." He put the book down. "Have you ever known me to show rancor?" "I'd have to look in the dictionary. What is it ex- actly?"

"Vehement ill will. Intense malignity."

"No."

"I have it now, and it is in the way. I can't think clearly. I intend to expose that wretch before the police do. I want Saul and Orrie and Fred here at eight o'clock in the morning. I have no idea what their errands will be, but I shall know by morning. After you reach them sleep if you can."

"I don't have to sleep if there's something better to do."

"Not tonight. This confounded rancor is a pimple on the brain. My mental processes haven't been so mud- dled in many years. I wouldn't have thought-"

The doorbell was ringing. Now that the army of occupation was gone, that was to be expected, since Cramer had allowed no reporters or photographers to enter the house. I had considered disconnecting the bell for the night, and now, as I descended the stairs, I decided that I would. Fritz, at the door to the kitchen, looked relieved when he saw me. He had switched on the stoop light.

If it was a reporter he was a veteran, and he had brought a helper along, or maybe a girl friend just for company. I was in no hurry getting to the door, sizing them up through the one-way panel. He was a six- footer in a well-cut and well-fitted dark gray overcoat, a light gray woolen scarf, and a gray homburg, with a long bony face with deep lines. She could have been his pretty little granddaughter, but her fur coat fastened clear up and her matching fur cloche covered every- thing but the little oval of her face. I removed the chain bolt and swung the door open and said, "Yes, sir?"

He said, "I am Lament Otis. This is Mr. Nero Wolfe's house?"

"Right."

"I would like to see him. About my secretary, Miss Bertha Aaron. About information I have received from the police. This is Miss Ann Paige, my associate, a member of the bar. My coming at this hour is justified, I think, by the circumstances. I think Mr. Wolfe will agree."

"I do too," I agreed. "But if you don't mind-" I crossed the sill to the stoop and sang out, "Who are you over there? Gillian? Murphy? Come here a minute!"

A figure emerged from the shadows across the street. As he crossed the pavement I peered, and as he reached the curb on our side I spoke. "Oh, Wylie. Come on up."

He stood at the foot of the seven steps. "For what?" he demanded.

"May I ask," Lament Otis asked, "what this is for?"

"You may. An inspector named Cramer is in danger of losing an eye and that would be a shame. I'll appre- ciate it if you'll answer a simple question: were you asked to come here by either Mr. Wolfe or me?"

"Certainly not."

"Was your coming entirely your own idea?"

"Yes. But I don't-"

"Excuse me. You heard him, Wylie? Include it in your report. It will save wear and tear on Cramer's nerves. Much obliged for-"

"Who is he?" the dick demanded.

I ignored it. Backing up, I invited them in, and when I shut the door I put the bolt on. Otis let me take his hat and coat, but Ann Paige kept hers. The house was cooling off for the night. In the office, sitting, she unfas- tened the coat but kept it over her shoulders. I went to the thermostat on the wall and pushed it up to 70, and then went to my desk and buzzed Wolfe's room on the house phone. I should have gone up to get him, since he might balk at seeing company until he had dealt with the pimple on his brain, but I had had enough for one day of leaving visitors alone in the office, and one of these had a bum pump.

Wolfe's growl came, "Yes?"

"Mr. Lament Otis is here. With an associate, Miss Ann Paige, also a member of the bar. He thinks you will agree that his coming at this hour is justified by the circumstances."

Silence. Nothing for some five seconds, then the click of his hanging up. You feel foolish holding a dead re- ceiver to your ear, so I cradled it but didn't swivel to face the company. It was even money whether he was coming or not, and I put my eyes on my wrist watch. If he didn't come in five minutes I would go up after him. I turned and told Otis, "You won't mind a short wait."