Rex Stout - Death of a Doxy (Crime Line)

"Yes."

"Then no. As Fred said, impossible. That would take a real snake."

"Satisfactory," Wolfe said. "Archie and I had made our conclusion, and I know, barely short of certainty, who the blackmailer is, but I wanted your opinions. I didn't get you here just for that; there will be instructions for tomorrow. Archie, may they wait in your room?"

Not the kitchen. He was taking no chances. What if a man-eating tiger bounded in through the kitchen window and they scooted down the hall and saw Ballou? I told them they were welcome to my room as long as they didn't rummage, and they headed for the stairs. Wolfe gave them a full minute to get up the two flights and then told me to bring Ballou. He was still on the sofa, but when I entered he sat up and started talking. I told him to save it for Wolfe, and he got to his feet and came. I swear his first glance, as he crossed to the red leather chair, was at the package on Wolfe's desk. A habit is a habit, even when you're up a tree.

As he sat, he spoke. "I've been going over it. I have answered your questions, and I have made you a liberal offer, more than liberal. Either you accept it or you don't. The other day you told me Cather wasn't a murderer. Don't try to tell me now that he's not a blackmailer."

"You anticipate me," Wolfe said. "Mr. Cather is not a blackmailer."

Ballou stared. "You actually – after what I…" He rose and picked up the package. "By God, you are committed."

"I am indeed. I can name the blackmailer. Sit down."

"I have already named him."

"No. You know only his noms de guerre , Robert Service Kipling and Milton Thales. His real name is Barry Fleming. The husband of Miss Kerr's sister."

"That's absurd. You didn't even know I had been blackmailed until an hour ago."

Wolfe would have had to slant his head back to focus on his face, and he doesn't like to, so he wasn't focusing at all. "For a man of affairs," he said, "you're remarkably obtuse. You're in a pickle, and I am your only hope. You must have help, and you can't go to a lawyer, or to anyone, without disclosing your connection with Miss Kerr and a murder. But you talk and act as if you were in control. You spring to your feet and grab that package of money. Pfui. You probably have no further information for me. Either sit down and listen, or go."

You have to hand it to the president of the Federal Holding Corporation. He had pride and he had grit. If he had put the package back on Wolfe's desk he would have been buckling under, so he didn't. He put it on the little stand by the red leather chair, and there it was at his elbow when he sat, under his control.

"I'm listening," he said.

"That's better," Wolfe said. "First, Mr. Cather. Knowledge of a man cannot alone exclude him as a murderer, but it can as a blackmailer. Murder can be merely a spasm, but not blackmail. Four of us who have known Mr. Cather well for years – the two men I sent for, and Mr. Goodwin and I – agree that it can't possibly be Mr. Cather who blackmailed you. Now, the blackmailer. That name, Milton Thales – pronouncing it as you did and as almost any American would. But if I pronounce it Tha-lez does it stir your memory?"

"Should it?"

"Yes."

He was frowning. "Tha-lez – why, yes. An early Greek… eclipse of the sun… geometry…"

Wolfe nodded. "That's enough. A renowned name in the history of mathematics. Tha-lez of Miletus. Milton Thales. Barry Fleming, Miss Kerr's brother-in-law, teaches mathematics at a high school. Miss Kerr told her sister your name, and she told her husband. So I have named the blackmailer."

"Tha-lez," Ballou said. "Thales. Miletus. Milton. By God, I believe you have. And Isabel – Miss Kerr told me she had told my name to no one. She lied. I wonder how many more."

"Probably none. Those two were special to her. I think we may assume that only five people know of your connection with Miss Kerr: Mr. Cather, Mr. and Mrs. Fleming, Mr. Goodwin, and I. And only three know you were blackmailed, besides the blackmailer: Mr. Goodwin, you, and I. The two men upstairs, out of hearing, know of the blackmail, but not of you. I call your attention to a detail. My objective is to get Mr. Cather released and not charged with homicide. It's likely that I could achieve it simply by telling the police about Mr. Fleming blackmailing you. At least that would divert them, but I don't intend or desire to do it. I owe you some consideration, since I learned of the blackmailing only through you. I'm obliged to you."

Ballou reached a hand to tap the package. "And there's this."

"Yours. I haven't accepted it. Nor shall I, until I have concluded with finality that you did not kill that woman. A blackmailer is not ipso facto a murderer. I'm obliged to you because we have spent four futile days trying to find someone with a likely motive and have failed. The motive you suggested for Mr. Cather fits Mr. Fleming admirably. A question. How soon after the first phone call from the blackmailer did you tell Miss Kerr about it?"

"Right away. A day or two later."

"Was it ever mentioned again? By you or her?"

"Yes. She asked two or three times if it was continuing. I told her about the phone call in December. The last time she asked me was in January. Around the middle of January."

Wolfe nodded. "She knew it must be her brother-in-law, and she told him it must stop, and he -"

"Better than that," I cut in. "She was going to tell on him. Tell her sister. He might rather have called it off than kill her, but he would rather kill her than have his wife know. He may not be ipso facto a murderer, but ipso Archie Goodwin he is."

"Mr. Goodwin is sometimes a little precipitate," Wolfe told Ballou. "He has seen and spoken with them – Mr. and Mrs. Fleming. At length." He pointed to the package. "That money. If I earn it I want it, but you can't engage me now. My purpose is to clear Mr. Cather; yours is to prevent disclosure of your name. If I can serve your purpose without damage to mine, I shall. When you go, take the package; here in my safe it might affect my mental processes. There is -"

"What are you going to do?" Ballou demanded. Demanding again.

"I don't know. Mr. Goodwin, Mr. Panzer, Mr. Durkin, and I are now going to confer." He looked at the clock. "It's nearly midnight. If you don't want two more men in on your secret, go."

Chapter 11

At one o'clock Friday afternoon I was on a chair in a hotel bedroom, at arm's length from an attractive young woman in the bed. Various possible approaches had been discussed in the Thursday night conference that went on for more than two hours. Two of them – get a picture of him and show it to the General Delivery clerks at the Grand Central Station post office, and find out if he had been spending more money than he should have had – were discarded offhand because they could only confirm the blackmailing, and that was regarded as settled.

An obvious one was where had he been Saturday morning, but we weren't ready for that. If he was open, he was open. If he had an alibi, cracking it could and should wait until we had some kind of leverage on him.

Get three pictures of him, somehow – one for Saul, one for Fred, and one for me – and do the neighborhood again, to dig up someone who had seen him Saturday morning. The cops had of course been at that for four days, with pictures of Orrie. Fred was for it, and Saul was willing to try, but Wolfe vetoed it. He said we had tolerated banality long enough.