Rex Stout - Final Deduction

"To satisfy myself it wasn't necessary to supply answers to all relevant questions. For example, where was your husband from Sunday evening to Wednesday morning? I don't know and need not bother to guess, but since other details were carefully and thoroughly planned I assume that one was too. It had to be some spot where both he and his car could be effectively concealed, especially in the daytime. Of course you had to know where it was, since something might happen that would make it necessary to alter the plan. No doubt you and he chose the spot with great care and deliberation. Wherever it was, probably it lacked the convenience of a telephone, so he had to get to one Tuesday evening in order to make the calls to Fowler's Inn and The Fatted Calf, but that was after dark, and of course that detail too was prudently contrived.

"For another example of questions that can be left open, why did you tell your son he could have the money if he found it? Why not? Knowing yourself where it was, you knew he wouldn't find it. Still another example, why did you and your husband insist on keeping silent about the kidnaping for forty-eight hours after he returned home? A good guess is that you wanted enough time to pass to make sure that no trail had been left, but it doesn't have to be verified for my satisfaction. Regarding any known fact or factor I need only establish that it doesn't contradict my deduction-my final deduction, that you killed your husband. As for his coming to see me Wednesday morning, posthaste after his return, it would have been surprising if he hadn't. He wanted to learn how much ground there was, if any, for Miss Utley's fears; what he learned, over the telephone from you, was that she was dead; and he departed, again posthaste, to go to you.

"He knew, of course, that you had killed Dinah Utley, and you were completely at his mercy. He couldn't expose you as a murderer without divulging his own complicity in preparations for a swindle, but the swindle hadn't been consummated; there would be no swindle until the deduction had been made on your income-tax return and you and he had signed it. Meanwhile he had a cogent threat, and he used it. He demanded the entire half a million for himself. You were in a pickle. After all the planning, all the exertion, all the painstaking, all the zeal, even after your desperate resort to murder, you were to get nothing. That was not to be borne. Jimmy Vail must die."

A noise came from her, but it wasn't a word; it was merely the kind of involuntary noise that is squeezed out by a blow or a sting. Wolfe went on. "You planned it with the care and foresight you had so admirably demonstrated in planning the kidnaping. You needed a drug, and since you assuredly wouldn't take the risk of procuring one in haste, you must have had one in your possession-probably chloral hydrate, since you may plausibly have had it in some mixture in your medicine cabinet, but that's another question I may leave open. Either luck was with you Wednesday evening, or you knew him so well that you could safely calculate that when drowsiness overtook him from the drug you had put in his drink he would lie on the couch instead of going to his room. For the rest you needed no luck. After Mr Frost left you went down to the library, found your husband in a coma as you had a right to expect, dragged him across to the desired spot, and toppled the statue on him. With your marked talent for detail, undoubtedly you took his feet. Shoes dragged along a floor will leave telltale marks, even on a rug, but a head and shoulders won't. Certainly you didn't leave it to luck whether the statue would land where you wanted it. You wiggled it to learn its direction of least resistance. Evidently the thump wasn't heard, because the inmates were all in upper rooms; and the statue didn't hit the floor, the main impact was on your husband's chest, and it would have been more of a crunch than a thump."

Wolfe straightened up, took in air through his nose as far down as it could go, and let it out through his mouth. His eyes narrowed at her. "Mrs Vail," he said, "I confess that I am not without animus. I have been provoked by the suit you have served against me, and by your complaint against Mr Goodwin, subjecting him to arrest on a criminal charge. But even so I would hesitate to upbraid you on moral grounds for the fraud you conceived and tried to execute. Millions of your fellow citizens will cheat on their income tax this year. Nor would I reproach you without qualification for killing Miss Utley; you did it in the instant heat of uncontrollable passion. But killing your husband is another matter. That was planned and premeditated and ruthlessly executed; and for a sordid end. Merely for money. You killed him in cold blood because he was going to deprive you of the fruit of your swindle. That, I submit, was execrable. That would be condemned even by-"

"That's not true," she said. It barely got out through her tight throat, and she repeated it. "That's not true!"

"I advised you to say nothing, madam. That would be condemned even-"

"But it's not true! It wasn't the money!" She was gripping the chair arms. "He could have had the money. I told him he could. He wouldn't. It was Dinah. He was going to leave me because I had-because of Dinah. That was why-it wasn't the money."

"I prefer it that he demanded the money."

"No!"

"He threatened to expose you as a murderer?"

"No. He said he wouldn't. But he was going to leave me, and I loved him." Her mouth worked, and her fingers clawed at the chair arms, scratching at the leather. "I loved him, and he was going to leave me."

"And of course that might mean your exposure." Wolfe's voice was low, down almost to a murmur. "Away from you, no longer enjoying your bounty, there was no telling what he might do. So he had to die. I offer you my apology. I concede that your end was not sordid, that you were in mortal danger. Did you try to gull him, did you deny that you had killed Dinah Utley?"

"No, he knew I had." She made fists. "I was insane, I must have been. You're right, I knew what would happen if he left me, but that wasn't it. I must have been insane. Later that night I went down to the library again and stayed there with him until-"

She jerked up straight. "What am I saying? What did I say?"

"Enough." Not a murmur. "You said what I expected you to say when I accused you of killing your husband merely for money. That was absurd, but no more absurd than your attack on Mr Goodwin and me after we found the money. You intended, of course, to put the onus on your deceased husband-to have it inferred that he had arranged the kidnaping to get the money for himself, with Dinah Utley as an accomplice, that he had killed her, and possibly even that he had killed himself through fear or remorse, though that would be rather far-fetched-a man would hardly choose that method of committing suicide. But you should have known that you would arouse-"

He stopped because his audience was walking out on him. When she shifted her feet to get up, her bag slipped to the floor, and I went and picked it up and handed it to her and followed her out. Having circled around her in the hall to get in front, I had the door open by the time she reached it, and I went out to the stoop to watch her go down the steps. If she went home and finished up the chloral hydrate, that would be her funeral, but I didn't want her stumbling and breaking her neck on our premises. She wasn't any too steady, but she made it to the sidewalk and turned right, and I went back in.

Going to the kitchen, I got the tape and the playback from the cupboard and took them to the office. Wolfe sat and scowled at me as I got things ready, switched it on, ran it through to what might be the spot, and turned on the sound. Wolfe's voice came.

"... in the instant heat of uncontrollable passion. But killing your husband is another matter. That was planned and premeditated and ruthlessly executed; and for a sordid end. Merely for money. You killed him in cold blood because he was going to deprive you of the fruit of your swindle. That, I submit, was execrable. That would be condemned even by-"