Rex Stout - The Final Deduction

“I didn’t come,” she said, “to listen to a lecture about legal ownership by a detective. You know what I came for. My mother paid you sixty thousand dollars for nothing. All you did was put that thing in the paper. For sixty thousand dollars you certainly ought to help me find the money my mother gave the kidnaper. That’s more than ten per cent.”

Wolfe grunted. “Twelve. That might be thought adequate. How would I go about it? Have you a suggestion?”

“Of course not. You would go about it the way any detective would. That’s your business.”

“Could I count on your cooperation?”

She frowned at him, her chin up. “How could I cooperate?”

He didn’t frown back. Having put her in her place, he didn’t mind if she didn’t stay put. “That would depend on developments,” he said. “Take a hypothesis. Do you know what a hypothesis is?”

“You’re being impertinent.”

“Not without provocation. You didn’t know what a Shirvan is. The hypothesis: If I took the job you offer, I would want to begin by asking you some questions. For example, what were your relations with Dinah Utley?”

She stared. “What on earth has that got to do with finding the money?”

He nodded. “I thought so. You’re under a misapprehension. You expected me to pit my wits and Mr Goodwin’s eyes and legs against the horde of official investigators who are combing the countryside and looking under every stone. Pfui. That would be infantile. I would have to approach it differently, and the best way-indeed, the only way-would be through Dinah Utley. You know that Mr Goodwin and I suspected that she was implicated in the kidnaping; you heard your mother and Mr Goodwin discuss it Wednesday afternoon. Now we don’t suspect it; we know it. Therefore-”

“How do you know it? Because she was there and was killed?”

“Partly that, but there were other factors. She was here Tuesday afternoon. Therefore at least one of the kidnapers was someone with whom she had had contacts, and I would want to learn all I could about her. How well did you know her?”

“Why-she was my mother’s secretary. She lived in the house, but she didn’t regard herself as a servant. I thought my mother let her take too many liberties.”

“What kind of liberties?”

“Different kinds. She ate with us. If we had people in for cocktails, she came in if she felt like it. If I asked her to do something, she might and she might not. You might have thought we were equals. You know, I must say, I think this is clever. Perhaps you are clever. I should have thought of this myself, about Dinah, only I really don’t know much about her. She was there seven years, and I suppose she had friends of her own class, but I never saw them.”

“Would your brother know more about her?”

“He might.” She nodded. “Yes, I’m sure he would. He did things with her just to irritate me-like playing cards with her. Gin rummy in the library. You might have thought they were equals, and perhaps they should have been. Once he took her to a prizefight.”

“That sounds promising. I would want to talk with him. I don’t want to shock you, Miss Tedder, but the question should be asked. Is it conceivable that the kidnaping was a joint enterprise of Miss Utley and your brother? That your brother had a hand in it?”

“Good heavens.” Her lips parted. She stared. “Of course it’s conceivable. That’s the second thing you’ve thought of that I should have thought of.”

“Given time, undoubtedly you would have. Your emotions have interfered with your mental processes. We would-”

“But if he-Noel-then he knows where the money is! He has the money!”

“Not too fast, Miss Tedder. That’s merely a surmise. We would have to consider all possibilities, all those who had frequent opportunity to see Miss Utley. I understand that your mother’s brother, Ralph Purcell, lives in that house. Was he on good terms with her?”

She was only half listening. He had darned near lost her with his suggestion about Noel. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she had bounced up, granting that a person of her class and with her hips could bounce, and gone to have it out with her brother. Wolfe saw he would have to repeat his question, and did so.

“Oh,” she said, “he’s on good terms with everybody, or he tries to be. He ran errands for Dinah, but of course he would. He runs errands for me too. He’s all right, I like him, I really do, but he’s so-oh, well. He just doesn’t belong. He certainly wouldn’t have anything to do with any kidnaping; he wouldn’t have the nerve.”

“But he was friendly enough with Miss Utley to make it plausible that he knows the names of her associates not of your class, and possibly has met some of them.”

“Yes. No doubt of that. You won’t have to talk with my brother. I’ll talk with him.”

“That would help. That was the sort of thing I had in mind when I asked if I could count on your cooperation. I believe I have named all those who had- No, there’s another possibility. I saw in the newspaper the name of your mother’s attorney-Frost, I think?”

“Yes. Andrew Frost.”

“It might be that an attorney would have frequent contacts with a client’s secretary, especially if he is also the client’s business adviser. Did Mr Frost see much of Miss Utley?”

“I suppose he did, but I don’t know, after she came to work for my mother. Of course he saw her when she worked for him. She was his secretary. He let my mother take her. It was supposed to be a great favour, but he really did it for my father. My father died not long after that. My father was a true gentleman. I’d like to tell you something, I don’t know why, if you’ll promise not to repeat it. Do you promise?”

“Yes.”

Her eyes came to me. “Do you?”

“Sure.”

She went back to Wolfe. “My father told me once that his father was a bandit.”

There you are. She was actually human.

Wolfe nodded. “Then I merely corroborated him. I am obliged to you, Miss Tedder. Manifestly, if I took the job you offer, I would need to speak with Mr Purcell and Mr Frost. I would also need to be informed about the gathering in the library of your home Wednesday evening. For example, I understand that drinks were served. Who served them?”

She frowned again. “Why? Why do you need to know that?”

“You conceded the possibility that I am clever. Any discussion in which Mr Purcell and Mr Frost and your brother took part may be informative. You say that Mr Purcell likes to do errands. Did he serve the drinks?”

“No. The bar cart was there and we served ourselves, or someone-you know how it is. I think-yes, Uncle Ralph took brandy to Mr Frost. My mother likes a champagne cobbler after dinner, and she mixes it herself. She poured me some champagne, but I didn’t drink much.”

“What did your brother have?”

“Champagne. He gulps it.”

“And Mr Vail?”

“I didn’t notice, but probably bourbon and water. No matter how clever you are, this can’t possibly mean anything. You’re just trying to impress me.” She glanced at her wristwatch. “Do you want to see my uncle first? He would come tonight if I tell him to.”