Rex Stout - The Final Deduction

“Neither one. I’m interested personally. I was taking a walk and heard something. I could wait and buy a paper, but I’m curious. What about him?”

“He’s dead.”

“So I heard. How?”

“He was found-you know about the Harold F. Tedder library.”

“Yeah. Statues.”

“He was found there a little after nine o’clock this morning by his stepdaughter, Margot Tedder. On the floor, with Benjamin Franklin on him. Benjamin Franklin in bronze, a copy of the one in Philadelphia by John Thomas Macklin. That would be a beautiful picture, but I don’t know if we got one. I can phone downstairs.”

“No, thanks. How did Benjamin Franklin get on him?”

“If we only knew that and knew it first. You got any ideas?”

“No. What do you know?”

“Damn little. Nothing. I can phone downstairs and see if anything more is in, but I doubt it. We’ve got five men on it, but you know how the cops are, and the DA, when it’s people in that bracket. They don’t even snarl, they just button their lips.”

“You must know some thing. Like how long he’d been dead.”

“We don’t. We will in time for the three-o’clock.” The phone buzzed. He got it, said “Yes” twice and “No” four times, and returned to me. “Your turn, Archie. Your fee’s showing, or Wolfe’s fee is. Yesterday morning the body of Mrs Vail’s secretary is found in a ditch in Westchester. This morning the body of her husband is found in her library, and here you come-not on the phone, in person. So of course Wolfe has been hired by someone. When? Yesterday? About the secretary?”

I eyed him. “I could give you a whole front page.”

“I’ll settle for half. Don’t pin me to the wall with your steely eyes. I’m sensitive. You know who killed the secretary.”

“No. I thought I did, but not now. What I’ve got may break any minute-or it may not. If I give it to you now you’ll have to save it until I give the word-unless it breaks, of course. This is personal. Mr Wolfe doesn’t even know I’m here.”

“Okay. I’ll save it.”

“You don’t mean maybe.”

“No. I’ll save it unless it breaks.”

“Then get pencil and paper. Jimmy Vail was expected home from the country Sunday night but didn’t come. Monday morning Mrs Vail got a note in the mail saying she could have him back for five hundred grand and she would get a phone call from Mr Knapp. I have a photograph of the note, taken by me, and I may let you have a print if you’ll help me mark a deck of cards so I can win my money back from Saul. How would you like to run a good picture of that note, exclusive?”

“I’d help you mark ten decks of cards. A hundred. Is this straight, Archie?”

“Yes.”

“My God. That ‘Knapp’ is beautiful. How did he spell it?”

I spelled it. “He phoned Monday afternoon and told her to get the money, put it in a suitcase, put the suitcase in the trunk of her blue sedan, and Tuesday evening drive to Fowler’s Inn on Route Thirty-three, arriving at ten o’clock. She did so. At Fowler’s Inn she was called to the phone and was told, probably the same voice, to look in the phone book where Z begins. There was a note there giving instructions. I haven’t-”

“Beautiful,” Lon said. His pencil was moving fast.

“Not bad. Don’t interrupt, I’m in a hurry. I haven’t got a picture of that note, but I have the text, taken from the original by me. The notes were typewritten. Following the instructions, she drove around a while and got to The Fatted Calf around eleven o’clock. There she got another phone call and was told to look in the phone book where U begins. Another note, same typewriting-I have the text. More instructions. Following them, she took Route Seven to Route Thirty-five, Route Thirty-five to Route One Twenty-three, and Route One Twenty-three to Iron Mine Road, which is all rock and a yard wide. She turned into it. When a car-”

“Dinah Utley,” Lon said. “The secretary. Her body was found on Iron Mine Road.”

“Don’t interrupt. When a car behind her blinked its lights she stopped and got out and got the suitcase from the trunk. A man with only his eyes uncovered came from the other car, took the suitcase, and told her to go straight home, stop nowhere, and say nothing, which she did. Around seven-thirty yesterday morning her husband phoned her from their place in the country and said the kidnapers had let him go in one piece and he would come to town as soon as he cleaned up and ate. He also said they had told him to keep the lid on for forty-eight hours or he would regret it, and he was going to and expected her to. I don’t know exactly when he arrived at the house on Fifth Avenue, but it must have been around ten o’clock.”

I stood up. “Okay, that’s it. I’ve got to go. If your sheet prints even a hint of it before I give the word, I’ll write a letter to the editor and feed your eyes to the cat. If and when I give the word, there is to be no mention of Nero Wolfe or me. If it breaks, about the kidnaping, before I give the word, you’ll still be out in front with a lot of facts the others won’t have. I’ll be seeing you.”

“Wait a minute!” Lon was up. “You know how hot this is. It could burn my ass to cinders.”

“It sure could. Then you couldn’t help me mark a deck.”

“How solid is it?”

“It isn’t. There’s an alternative. Either it’s good as gold, every word, or Mrs Jimmy Vail is unquestionably a double-breasted liar and almost certainly a murderer. If the latter, she’ll be in no position to burn even your ears, let alone your ass. If she killed Dinah Utley, who killed Jimmy? Benjamin Franklin?” I turned to go.

“Damn it, listen!” He had my arm. “Was Dinah Utley with Mrs Vail Tuesday night in the blue sedan?”

“No. For either alternative, that’s positive. Dinah’s own car was there at Iron Mine Road. That’s the crop for now, Lon. I just wanted to burn a bridge. You could ask questions for an hour, but I haven’t got an hour.”

I went. Out to the elevator, down to the lobby, out to the sidewalk; and I started walking again. A taxi wouldn’t have been much quicker, and I preferred to be on my feet. Down Lexington Avenue to 35th Street, and crosstown to the old brownstone. I mounted the stoop, let myself in with my key, put my coat on a hanger, and went to the office. Wolfe was at his desk, pouring beer.

“Good afternoon,” I said. “Did you turn on the radio for the twelve o’clock news?”

“Yes.”

“Did it mention Jimmy Vail?”

“Yes.”

I went to my desk and sat. “I dropped in so you could have the satisfaction of firing me face to face. I have disobeyed orders. I am disloyal. I have betrayed your trust. I just told Lon Cohen about the kidnaping of Jimmy Vail. Not for publication; he won’t use it until I say he can. I didn’t mention Mrs Vail’s hiring you. I kept you out of it. I’m not quitting, you’re firing me, so I’m entitled to two months’ severance pay.”

He lifted the glass and drank. The idea is to drink when there is still an inch of foam so it will get on his lips and he can lick it off. He licked it off and put the glass down. “Is this flummery?” he demanded.