Rex Stout - Death of a Doxy (Crime Line)

I took five seconds, not to figure it, but to realize that I had never looked at it from that angle. I told Julie, "Stella. I told you Saturday how she reacted. Remember? She doesn't want a trial even if they get the right man. Of course, X's name would come out only in connection with Isabel." I looked at Wolfe. "Yeah. I'll be damned. But how?"

"That's what we need Miss Jaquette for." His eyes were narrowed at her. "Don't you want coffee? It's getting cold."

She picked up the glass and finished the juice, put it down, poured coffee, picked up the cup, and took a sip. She looked at Wolfe and shook her head. "I don't get it. What's so great about that fact?"

"The possibilities it presents. Suppose that Mrs. Fleming knows, or even strongly suspects, that her husband killed her sister, and knows why, and also knows that he may be arrested and charged at any moment, and later brought to trial. What would she do?"

"I don't know. I don't know her."

"What would she do, Archie?"

"I don't know either," I said, " what she would do. But I know she would do anything, no holds barred, to keep him or anyone else from telling the world about Isabel and X. She certainly wouldn't want it to get to a trial. I don't know how much she cares about him . If she cares enough, in spite of the fact that he killed Isabel, she might blow with him, or if she thinks he can stand the gaff and keep his trap shut, she might stick and fight. If she doesn't care enough about him, she might ship him off to China, or she might even bump him off. The one certain thing is that she would do whatever she thought she had to, to make sure, for instance, that Orrie wouldn't go on the stand as a witness for the prosecution and answer questions about Isabel. Or that X wouldn't testify about the blackmail. Of course she has to be told about the blackmail too. To make sure of that she would blow up the courthouse if she could get her hands on a bomb." I was looking at Julie. "So there you are. You tell her what you told him in that letter. It made him snipe at you with a gun. She won't do that, but she'll certainly do something."

She was frowning. "Why can't you tell her?"

"She wouldn't believe me. You can tell her things Isabel told you, but I can't. As you told him in the letter."

"That was a lie, that letter."

"The only lie was that Isabel told you. What you said she told you was true, and he proved it. Do you know that Barry blackmailed X?"

"Certainly."

"Do you think there's any doubt that he shot at you?"

"No."

"Do you think he would have tried to kill you just because you knew about the blackmailing and wanted the money, if he hadn't also killed Isabel? Remember, I was there, and he knew what I was working on. The murder. I think it would be fine for you to pick up fifty grand, but also I understood that you wanted the man who killed Isabel to be tagged. You said so. Do you think there is any doubt that he killed her?"

"No."

"Then count up to two."

She picked up the cup and took a sip, found that it had cooled enough, emptied the cup and put it down, and said, "He wouldn't be tagged if they blow."

"No," I conceded. "But his number would be up, and he wouldn't be here to name X. They'd find him someday, and then we'd see. As Mr. Wolfe said, probably we can't, but possibly we can."

"She lives in the Bronx."

"Right."

"Would I have to go there?"

"I hope not. This is the day he was to bring you the five grand, and God knows where he is or what he might try. I'm off of bodyguarding for a while."

"Here," Wolfe said. "Get her."

"I'll sit in," I told Julie, "if you think I won't hash it."

"What a man," she said, and poured coffee.

I swiveled, got the Bronx phone book, found the number, lifted the receiver, and dialed, hoping she was there and was answering the phone. She was. It was her voice that said hello.

"This is Archie Goodwin, Mrs. Fleming. You may remember, I was there a week ago today."

"I remember."

"Then you may remember that I said the police had the wrong man and I was looking for the right man. I have found him, and we want to tell you about him and ask your advice about how to proceed. We know you hope there won't be a trial, and we want to discuss it with you. Will you come here, Nero Wolfe's office? Now?"

Silence. It went on so long I thought she had gone, but she hadn't hung up. I finally said, "Mrs. Fleming?" but there was more silence.

At last her voice came. "Mr. Goodwin?"

"Yes."

"What's the address?"

I gave it to her.

Chapter 15

It was a tough decision, and it took Wolfe a good five minutes to make it. What about lunch? It was ten minutes past twelve when I hung up after giving Stella Fleming the address. Would she leave immediately, and how long would it take her? Lunch-time has been, is, and will be a quarter past one. An impossible situation. He sat and scowled at it for five or six minutes, made his decision, and got up and went to the kitchen. I followed him, since I eat too. Julie had no problem, since her hedgehog omelet and broiled sausage were about ready. The crisis was licked good. Julie ate at my breakfast table, and Wolfe and I made out on stools at the big table, with sturgeon, smoked pheasant, celery, three kinds of cheese, and spiced brandied cherries. Since it was a snack, not a meal, the taboo on business didn't apply, and we discussed the program. I thought Wolfe should be present, and he thought he shouldn't, and we let Julie decide it, and she voted with him. In the alcove at the kitchen end of the hall there is a hole in the wall with a sliding panel, and on the office side the hole is covered with a trick picture of a waterfall which you can see through from the alcove side. Wolfe would be there on a stool. We were unanimous on the other main point, that I should lead the attack.

When she came, at twenty minutes past one, I started the attack in the hall. A chair and a bench are there, across from the rack, very handy, but she didn't put her handbag down when I was taking her coat, and I didn't like the way she was clutching it. Also I was still touchy about the bullets that had missed Julie through no fault of mine. So when, turning, she shifted the bag from her right hand to her left, I grabbed it. She tried to grab it back, but I stiff-armed her, perhaps a little rough, sidestepped, and opened the bag. She squeaked and came at me, and I pushed her again and got a hand in the bag, and it came out with something in it. She backed off and stood and panted, so I was able to look. It was a twenty-two Bristol automatic with a fancy carved butt, and it was loaded. I stuck it in my side pocket and held the bag out. "Sorry if I was rude," I said. "We had an event here once, and I frisk everybody."

She was trying hard to hold in, and I hoped she would make it. She had shrunk. Not only did she look even smaller than she had a week ago, but her face had positively shrunk. Her cheeks had been filled out, and now they weren't. She took the bag and said, "Give me that gun."

"It's not a gun, it's a toy. You'll get it back. As I say, I frisk everybody, and right now I'm glad I do. There's a woman here who is going to say things you won't like, and you're very impulsive. Her name is Julie Jaquette, and she was your sister's best friend. I believe you have met her -"