Rex Stout: The Doorbell Rang (The Rex Stout Library)

"I was a stenographer at the Bruner Corporation, and then Mr Thompson's secretary, the vice-president."

"Have you ever worked for the government? For instance, for the FBI?"

She smiled. "No. Never. I was twenty-two years old when I started with the Bruner Corporation. I'm twenty-eight now. You're not taking notes."

"In here." I touched my forehead. "What gave you the idea that the FBI is tailing you?"

"I don't know it's the FBI. But it must be, because nobody else would."

"How sure are you you're being tailed?"

"Oh, I'm positive. I don't keep looking behind me, nothing like that, but my hours here are irregular, I leave at different times, but when I go to the bus stop a man always comes and gets on after me, and he gets off where I do. The same man."

"Madison Avenue bus?"

"No, Fifth Avenue. I live in the Village."

"When did it start?"

"I'm not sure. The first I noticed him was the Monday after Christmas. He's there in the morning, too. And in the evening, if I go out. I didn't know it was done like that. I thought if you followed someone you didn't want her to know it."

"It depends. Sometimes you do want her to know. It's called an open tail. Can you describe the man?"

"I certainly can. He's six or seven inches taller than me, about thirty years old, maybe a little more, a long face with a square chin, a long thin nose, a small straight mouth. His eyes are a kind of greenish gray. He always has his hat on, so I don't know about his hair."

"Have you ever spoken to him?"

"Of course not."

"Have you reported it to the police?"

"No, the lawyer said not to. Mrs Bruner's lawyer. He said that if it's the FBI they can always say it's a security check."

"So they can. And do. By the way, did you suggest sending people copies of that book to Mrs Bruner?"

Her brow went up. It was a nice smooth brow. "Why, no. I hadn't read it. I only read it afterwards."

"After you got a tail?"

"No, after she decided to send all those copies."

"Do you know who did suggest it to her?"

"I don't know if anyone did." She smiled. "I suppose it's natural, your asking me that, since you're a detective, but to me it would seem more natural to ask her. Even if I knew someone suggested it, I don't think-"

There were footsteps in the hall, approaching, and Mrs Bruner appeared. As she entered I arose, and so did Sarah Dacos. I moved to meet her and take the offered hand and return the greeting, and when she went to sit at the other desk I changed to another chair. She gave a pile of papers under a weight a mere glance and pushed it aside, and said to me, "I suspect that I owe you some thanks, Mr Goodwin. More than just thanks."

I shook my head. "No, you don't. Not that it matters, since the check has been deposited, but I was against it. Now that it's a job I'm for it." I got from a pocket the item I had taken from my desk drawer and handed it to her. It was a sheet of paper on which I had typed:

Mr Nero Wolfe

914 WeSt 35th Street

New York City 1

January 6, 1965

Dear Sir:

Confirming our conversation of yesterday, I hereby engage you to act in my interest in the matter we discussed. I believe the Federal Bureau of Investigation is responsible for the espionage I and my family and associates are being subjected to, for the reasons I gave you, but whoever is responsible, you are to investigate it and use your best efforts to have it stopped. Whatever the outcome, the $100,000 I have given you as a retainer will not be subject to any claim by me. I will pay any expenses you incur in my behalf, and if you get the result I desire I will pay a fee to be determined by you.

(Mrs Lloyd Bruner)

She read it twice, first skimming and then every word. She looked up. "I'm supposed to sign this?"

"Yes."

"I can't. I never sign anything my lawyer hasn't read."

"You can call him and read it to him."

"But my telephone is tapped."

"I know. It's barely possible that when they know that you are giving Nero Wolfe a free hand, no limit, they'll cool off. Tell the lawyer that. Not that they're in awe of him, they're not in awe of anybody, but they know a lot about him. As for that last sentence, the fee to be determined by him, there's a loophole. It says 'if you get the result I desire.' Obviously that will be determined by you, so you're not signing a blank check. The lawyer should agree."

She read it again, then leveled the brown-black eyes at me. "I can't do that. My lawyers don't know I went to Nero Wolfe. They wouldn't approve. No one knows but Miss Dacos."

"Then we're up a stump." I turned a palm up. "Look, Mrs Bruner. Mr Wolfe couldn't possibly tackle it without something in writing. What if it got so hot you wanted out, leaving him in? What if you tried to hedge on what you hired him to do and wanted the retainer back?"

"I wouldn't do that. I'm not a hedger, Mr Goodwin."

"Good. Then go ahead and sign it."

She looked at it, at me, back at it, and at Miss Dacos. "Here, Sarah," she said, "make a copy of it."

"I have a carbon," I said, and handed it to her. By gum, she read it through. Well trained by her husband, or by the lawyers after he died. She took a pen from a stand and signed the original, and I reached for it.

"So that's why Mr Wolfe wanted you to come this morning," she said.

I nodded. "Partly. He wanted me to ask Miss Dacos a few questions about being tailed, and I have. I saw your tail yesterday. When you left a car followed you, close, with two men in it, and I got the license number. They were FBI. They want you to know. From here on we probably won't have anything to ask you or tell you unless and until there's a break, but we might, and there should be an arrangement. Since you have read that book, you know what 'bugged' means. Do you know if this room is bugged?"

"No, I don't. Of course I've thought about it, and we have examined it several times. I'm not sure. They have to get in, don't they? Put something in it?"

"Yes. Unless electronics has come up with something that isn't being mentioned, and I doubt it. I don't want to overplay it, Mrs Bruner, but I don't think any part of this house is a good place to talk. It's cold out, but a little fresh air will do you good. If you'll get a coat?"

She nodded. "You see, Mr Goodwin. In my own house. All right." She got up. "Wait here." She went.

Sarah Dacos was smiling at me. "You could have gone upstairs," she said. "I can't hear through walls or even though keyholes."

"No?" I looked her up and down, glad to have an excuse. She was very lookable. "You may be wired for sound, and there would be only one way to make sure, and you wouldn't enjoy it."

The hazel eyes laughed. "How do you know I wouldn't?"

"My knowledge of human nature. You're the squeamish type. You haven't walked up to your tail and said what's your name and what do you want."

"Why, do you think I should?"