Rex Stout - Death of a Doxy (Crime Line)

Wolfe nodded. "A reasonable conjecture, but that's all. His name and address, for mailing?"

"It was a fake name, naturally. The address was General Delivery, Grand Central Station, Lexington Avenue and Forty-fifth Street. The name was Milton Thales."

"Thales? T,H,A,L,E,S?"

"Yes."

"Indeed. Interesting." Wolfe closed his eyes and in a moment opened them. "You made no effort to learn who he was?"

"No. What for? What good would that do?"

"If it was Mr. Cather, it might have prevented this. Did you tell Miss Kerr about it?"

"Yes. I asked if she had told anyone, anyone , my name, and she said she hadn't. She lied. She was very – well, she was indignant. I was a little surprised at her reaction. It didn't seem to be -" He stopped. He pursed his lips and frowned, and then he nodded. "I see. Of course. I said I don't know why he killed her, but it's obvious. She knew it must be Cather, and she told him, and she told him he had to stop, and he killed her. My God, if I had known – damn him. Damn him !"

It was closer to passion than I had thought was in his compass, and I was going to offer him a drink, but Wolfe spoke. "A detail. The voice on the telephone. Indubitably a man?"

"Yes. He was disguising it, a kind of falsetto, but I was sure it was a man. No doubt at all."

"Has he communicated with you again? Telephoned?"

"Once. The seventeenth of December. That name again, Robert Service Kipling. At my home. He said he thought I would like to know that the material was being received, and that was all."

Wolfe leaned back, closed his eyes, clasped his hands at the high point of his middle, and pushed his lips out. Ballou started to say something, and I showed him a palm, but it really didn't matter. When Wolfe's lips start working like that, out and in, out and in, he has taken off and he hears nothing. Ballou lowered his head and shut his eyes, so in effect I was left alone for about three minutes. Finally Wolfe opened his eyes and asked me if I could get Saul and Fred, and I said yes but I didn't know how soon. He said, "The kitchen. Tell them to come at once," and I went.

Making phone calls merely to tell men they're wanted – I had to try three numbers to get Saul – doesn't take much brainpower, and my mind could work on something else. Not figuring the odds on Orrie as a blackmailer; that was so long a shot it was just no bet. The riddle was, why was Thales an interesting name for a blackmailer? Wolfe had really meant it; it wasn't the tone he uses when he's faking. If he thought it was interesting I should too, since I knew everything he did. I would give a nice new dollar bill to know how many of the people who read this report will be on to it. I still wasn't when I returned to the office, though I sat and pecked at it for a good five minutes after I got Saul.

Two paces inside the office I stopped. The red leather chair was empty. I asked Wolfe, "Did you bounce him?"

He shook his head. "He's in the front room. Lying down. Of course he shouldn't be seen by Saul and Fred. You got them?"

"They're on the way." I crossed to my desk. "It's too bad Orrie sank to blackmail, but then a wedding ring, furniture, marriage license – it mounts up."

"Nonsense."

"You can say that, with fifty grand there on your desk? Why is it interesting that he picked Thales for a name?"

"You mispronounce it. So did Mr. Ballou."

"It isn't Thales?"

"Certainly not. It's Tha-lez."

"Oh, that's why it's interesting."

"The Milton is interesting too. Thales of Miletus, the sixth and seventh centuries B.C., was the chief of the seven 'wise men' of ancient Greece. He preceded Euclid by three centuries. He founded the geometry of lines. He made the first prediction of an eclipse of the sun, to the day. His was the first great name in the history of mathematics. Thales of Miletus."

"I'll be damned." I sat and looked at it for a full minute. "I will be damned. He had a hell of a nerve. Ballou went to college. He might have liked mathematics. He might have known all about Thales of Miletus."

"But did he know that Miss Kerr's brother-in-law is a teacher of mathematics?"

"Probably not. Who would ever expect a goddam blackmailer to have a sense of humor? Did you tell Ballou?"

"No. It can wait. I would like some beer."

"And I would like some milk." I rose. "This is more like it, something to chew on." I went to the kitchen. Fritz was below in his room, and I didn't need any help. As I poured the milk and put the beer and glass on the tray, and took them to the office, my mind was on the newer and hotter riddle, going back to Monday afternoon and remembering how Barry Fleming had looked and acted and what he had said. After a couple of sips of milk, recollecting that we had a guest, I went to the front room to ask if he would like a drink.

He was stretched out on the sofa with his arm curled over his eyes. He didn't want anything. In the short time I was gone Wolfe had been to the shelves and got a book, a volume of the Britannica , and had it open. As I picked up my glass he said, "Thales perfected the theory of the scalene triangle and the theory of lines. He discovered the theorem that the sides of equiangular triangles are proportional. He discovered that when two straight lines intersect the vertically opposite angles are equal, and that the circle is bisected by its diameter."

I said, "Golly."

It was close to eleven o'clock when Fred arrived. I took him to the kitchen, because Wolfe was still consulting the encyclopedia, though he must have finished with Thales long ago. When Saul came, I sent him to join Fred in the kitchen and told Wolfe to let us know when he was ready for company, and he glared at me because he was in the middle of an interesting article. The way I know it was interesting is that there isn't a single page in the whole twenty-four volumes that he wouldn't think was interesting. I went to the kitchen and brought them, and Saul took the red leather chair and Fred one of the yellow ones.

That was the shortest session with the help on record. "I apologize," Wolfe said, "for getting you out so late on a winter night, but I need you. There has been a development. The man who maintained that apartment for Miss Kerr – call him X – is in the front room. He came to tell me something that he should have told me two days ago. Last September a man telephoned him and demanded money. The man knew of his visits to that apartment and threatened to make them impossible unless the money was paid, a thousand dollars at once and a thousand dollars a month, in cash, to be mailed to him at general delivery – an assumed name, of course. The money has been paid, a total of five thousand dollars. X is convinced, for reasons he considers valid, that the blackmailer is Orrie Cather. Sunday evening I asked your opinion as to whether Orrie had killed Miss Kerr. I now ask your opinion as to whether he is a blackmailer. Did he blackmail X? Fred?"

Fred was frowning, concentrating. "Just like you said?" he asked. "Just straight open-and-shut blackmail?"

"Yes."

Fred shook his head. "No, sir. Impossible."

"Saul?"

"To be sure I have it right," Saul said, "this was at the time when Orrie was seeing her himself?"