Rex Stout - The Golden Spiders (Crime Line)

Cramer glared around at them. “He says we’ll be bringing the murderer away with us. The murderer, he says.”

“He’s a maniac,” Bowen said bitterly.

“How in the name of God?” Skinner demanded.

“It’s insufferable,” Bowen said. “Get him down here.”

“He won’t come.”

“Bring him!”

“Not without a warrant.”

“I’ll get one!”

“He wouldn’t open his mouth. He’d get bail. Then he’d go home and do his own inviting, not including us.”

They looked at one another, and each saw on the others’ faces what I was seeing. There was no alternative.

I left my chair, called to them cheerily, “See you later, gentlemen!” and walked out.

Chapter 16

I have never been on intimate terms with a policewoman but have seen a few here and there, and I must say that whoever picked the three to attend Wolfe’s party that afternoon had a good eye. Not that they were knockouts, but I would have been perfectly willing to take any one of the trio to the corner drugstore and buy her a Coke. The only thing was their professional eyes, but you couldn’t hold that against them, because they were on duty in the presence of an inspector and so naturally had to look alert, competent, and tough. They were all dressed like people, and one of them wore a blue number with fine white stripes that was quite neat.

I had got there enough in advance of the mob to give Wolfe a brief report of my day, which didn’t seem to interest him much, and to help Fritz and Orrie collect chairs and arrange them. When the first arrivals rang the bell Orrie disappeared into the front room and shut the door. Having been in there for chairs, I had seen what he was safeguarding-a middle-aged round-shouldered guy wearing glasses, with his belt buckled too tight. Orrie had introduced us, so I knew his name was Bernard Levine, but that was all.

The seating arrangement had been dictated by Wolfe. The six females were in a row in front, with the policewomen alternating with Angela Wright, Claire Horan, and Jean Estey. Inspector Cramer was in the red leather chair, with Purley Stebbins at his left, next to Jean Estey. Back of Jean Estey was Lips Egan, within reach of Stebbins in case he got nervous and started using pliers on someone, and to Egan’s left, in the second row, were Horan, Lipscomb, and Kuffner. Saul Panzer and Fred Durkin were in the rear.

I said Cramer was in the red leather chair, but actually it was being saved for him. He had insisted on speaking privately with Wolfe, and they were in the dining room. I don’t know what it was he wanted, but I doubted if he got it, judging from the expression on his face as he marched into the office ahead of Wolfe. His jaw was set, his lips were tight, and his color was red. He stood, facing the gathering, until Wolfe had passed to his chair and got into it, and then he spoke.

“I want it understood,” he said, “that this is official only up to a point. You were brought here by the Police Department with the approval of the District Attorney, and that makes it official, but now Nero Wolfe will proceed on his own responsibility, and he has no authority to insist on answers to any questions he may ask. You all understand that?”

There were murmurs. Cramer said, “Go ahead, Wolfe,” and sat down.

Wolfe’s eyes moved left to right and back again. “This is a little awkward,” he said conversationally. “I’ve seen only two of you before, Mr. Horan and Mr. Kuffner. Mr. Goodwin has provided me with a chart, but I’d like to check. You’re Miss Jean Estey?”

“Yes.”

“Miss Angela Wright?”

She nodded.

“Mrs. Dennis Horan?”

“That’s my name. I don’t think-”

“Please, Mrs. Horan.” He was brusque. “Later, if you must. You’re Mr. Vincent Lipscomb?”

“Right.”

Wolfe’s eyes went back and forth again. “Thank you. I believe this is the first time I have ever undertaken to single out a murderer from a group of mostly strangers. It seems a little presumptuous, but let’s see. Mr. Cramer told you I have no authority to insist on answers to questions, but I’ll relieve your minds on that score. I have no questions to ask. Not one. As I go along an occasion for one may arise, but I doubt it.”

Cramer let out a low growl. Eyes went to him, but he didn’t know it. He was fastened on Wolfe.

“I shall indeed ask questions,” Wolfe said, “but of myself, and answer them. This affair is so complex that they could run into the hundreds, but I’ll constrain myself to the minimum. For instance, I know why Mrs. Fromm wore those golden spiders on her ears when she came to see me Friday noon, they were a part of her attempted imposture; but why did she wear them Friday evening to the dinner party at Horan’s? Obviously in the hope of surprising a reaction from someone. Again for instance, why did Mr. Horan go to the garage last night? Because he knew his greed had impelled him to a foolish action, giving Leopold Heim’s name and address to Egan at this juncture, and he was alarmed-as it turned out, with reason. I suppose-”

“I protest!” Horan’s tenor was squeaking. “That’s slander! Inspector Cramer, you say Wolfe speaks on his own responsibility, but you’re responsible for getting us here!”

“You can sue him,” Cramer snapped.

“Mr. Horan.” Wolfe aimed a finger at him. “If I were you I’d stop lathering about your implication in blackmail. On that you’re sunk, and you know it, and now you’re confronted with a much greater danger, identification as the murderer of Peter Drossos. You can’t possibly escape a term in jail, but with my help you may go on living. When we finish here you’re going to owe me something.”

“You’re damned right I am!”

“Good. Don’t try to pay it, either in your sense or in mine. I was about to say, I suppose most of you know nothing about the extortion enterprise that has resulted in the death of three people, so you can’t follow me throughout, but that can wait. One of you will assuredly be able to follow me.”

He leaned forward a little, with his elbows on the chair arms and his ten fingertips resting on the desk. “Now. I don’t pretend that I can do the pointing unaided, but I have had intimations. The other day one of you was at pains to tell Mr. Goodwin of your movements Friday evening and Tuesday afternoon, though there was no earthly reason why you should have bothered. The same one made a strange remark, that it had been fifty-nine hours since Mrs. Fromm had been killed-extraordinary exactitude! Those were worth filing as intimations, but no more.”

He clasped his hands in front of his middle mound. “However, there were two major indications. First, the earrings. Mrs. Fromm bought them on May eleventh. Another woman was wearing them on May nineteenth. She must have got them as a gift or loan from Mrs. Fromm, or obtained them surreptitiously. In any case, Mrs. Fromm had them back and wore them three days later, Friday the twenty-second-and why? To try to impersonate the woman who had been wearing them on Tuesday! Then she knew who that woman was, she had some kind of suspicion about her, and, most important as an indication, she was able to retrieve the earrings, either openly or by stealth, for the purpose of the impersonation.”