Rex Stout - The Final Deduction

Noel Tedder, who was leaning against George Washington, asked me, “What’s this about suspecting her? Suspecting her of what?” The lawyer shook his head at him, and Margot said, “What’s the difference now? She’s dead.” Purcell was looking at me, and I was deciding what to say to him and try to hold his eye when Mrs Vail came in. She had an envelope in her hand. She came back to the couch, sat on the edge, and took papers from the envelope. Frost demanded, “What have you got there? Althea, I absolutely insist-”

“I don’t care what you insist,” she told him. “You’re a good lawyer, Andy, Harold thought so and so do I, and I trust your advice on things you know about, you know I do, but this is different. I told you about it because you could tell me about the legal part of it, but now I don’t need just legal advice, now that I know Dinah was killed there on Iron Mine Road. I think I need something more than legal advice, I think I need Nero Wolfe.” She turned to me. “Would he come here? He wouldn’t, would he?”

I shook my head. “He never leaves the house on business. If you want to see him he’ll be available at six-”

“No. I don’t feel like-no. I can tell you. Can’t I?”

“Certainly.” I got my notebook and pen from a pocket, went to a chair near the end of the couch, and sat.

She looked around. “I want you to hear it, all of you. You all knew Dinah. I’m sure you all thought of her as highly as I did-I don’t mean you all liked her, that’s not it, but you thought she was very competent and completely reliable. But apparently she-but wait till you hear it.” She fingered in the papers, extracted one, handed it to me, and looked around again. “I’ve told you about the note I got Monday morning, saying they had Jimmy and I would get a phone call from Mr Knapp. Nero Wolfe has it. And I’ve told you, haven’t I-yes, I did-that when the phone call came Monday afternoon Dinah listened in and took it down. Later she typed it from her notes, and that’s it. Read it aloud, Mr Goodwin.”

A glance had shown me that the typing was the same as the note, the same faint letters, but on a better grade of paper and a different size, 8Ѕ by 11. I read it to them:

MRS VAIL: This is Althea Vail. Are you-

KNAPP: I’m Mr Knapp. Did you get the note?

MRS VAIL: Yes. This morning. Yes.

KNAPP: Is anyone else on the wire?

MRS VAIL: No. Of course not. The note said-

KNAPP: Keep it strictly to yourself. You had better if you want to see your Jimmy again. Have you got the money?

MRS VAIL: No, how could I? I only got the note-

KNAPP: Get it. You’ve got until tomorrow. Get it and put it in a suitcase. Five hundred thousand dollars in used bills, nothing bigger than a hundred. You understand that?

MRS VAIL: Yes, I understand. But where is my husband? Is he-

KNAPP: He’s perfectly all right. Safe and sound, not a scratch on him. That’s absolutely straight, Mrs Vail. If you play it straight, you can count on us. Now listen. I don’t want to talk long. Get the money and put it in a suitcase. Tomorrow evening, Tuesday, put the suitcase in the trunk of your blue sedan, and don’t forget to make sure the trunk’s locked. Take the Merritt Parkway. Leave it at the Westport exit, Route 33. You know Route 33?

MRS VAIL: Yes.

KNAPP: Do you know where Fowler’s Inn is?

MRS VAIL: Yes.

KNAPP: Go to Fowler’s Inn. Get there at ten o’clock tomorrow evening. Don’t get there much before ten, and not any later than five after ten. Take a table on the left side and order a drink. You’ll get a message. Understand?

MRS VAIL: Yes. What kind of a message? How will I know-

KNAPP: You’ll know. You’re sure you understand?

MRS VAIL: Yes. Fowler’s Inn at ten o’clock tomorrow evening. But when-

KNAPP: Just do as you’re told. That’s all.

I looked up. “That’s all.”

“But my God, Mom,” Noel Tedder blurted, “if you had told me!”

“Or me,” Andrew Frost said grimly.

“Well?” Mrs Vail demanded. “What could you have done? Jimmy’s here, isn’t he? He’s here alive and well. I went to Nero Wolfe, I’ve told you about that, and what he did may have helped, I don’t know and I don’t care now.”

“I think you were extremely wise,” Margot Tedder said, “not to tell either of them. Mr Frost would have tried to make you wait until he looked it up in the books. Noel would have gone to Fowler’s Inn in disguise, probably with a false beard. You went, Mother? To Fowler’s Inn?”

Mrs Vail nodded. “I did exactly what he told me to. Of course Mr Graham at the bank was suspicious-no, not suspicious, curious-and he wanted me to tell him what the money was for, but I didn’t. It was my money. I got to Fowler’s Inn too early, and sat in the car until ten o’clock, and then went in. I tried not to show how nervous I was, but I suppose I did; I kept looking at my watch, and at twenty after ten I was called to the phone. It was in a booth. The voice sounded like the other one, Mr Knapp, but he didn’t say. He told me to look in the Manhattan phone book where Z begins, and hung up. I looked in the phone book, and there was a note. I have it.” She extracted another sheet of paper and handed it to me. “Read it, Mr Goodwin.”

“Wait a minute.” It was Jimmy Vail. He had moved and was standing looking down at his wife. “I think you’d better call a halt, Al. You and I had better have a talk. Telling Goodwin all this, telling Frost-it’s not Friday yet.”

She lifted a hand to touch his arm. “I have to, Jimmy. I have to, now that Dinah-my God, they killed her! Read it, Mr Goodwin.”

It was the same typing, and on the same cheap paper as the note that had come in the mail. I read it aloud.

Leave immediately. Speak to no one. Go to car. Read the rest of this after you are in the car. Drive to Route 7 and turn right. Beyond Weston leave Route 7 on any byroad and turn off of it in a mile or so onto some other byroad. Do this, taking turns at random, for half an hour, then return to Route 7 and go towards Danbury. A mile beyond Branchville stop at The Fatted Calf, take a table and order a drink. You’ll get a message.

“I’ll take that,” Jimmy Vail said. “And the other one.” His hand was there for them. From his tone, it seemed likely that if I tried to argue that I wanted to show them to Wolfe I would lose the debate, so I got the texts in my notebook in shorthand. That wasn’t really necessary, since after years of practice I can report long conversations verbatim, but with such documents as those it was desirable. Transferring typed text to shorthand was practically automatic, so my ears could take in what Mrs Vail was saying:

“I did what the note said. I think a car was following me all the time, but I wasn’t sure. I think I didn’t want to know, I didn’t want to be sure. The same thing happened at The Fatted Calf, the same as Fowler’s Inn. At ten minutes after eleven I was called to the phone, and the same voice told me to look in the phone book where U begins, and there was another note.” She handed it to me. “Read it.”

Same typing, same paper. I read: