Rex Stout - Nero Wolfe (23 page)

“It's a bad habit, Miss Jay. What time is your appointment with Nero Wolfe?”

“I haven't got an appointment.”

“What do you want to see him about?”

“I don't want to see him. I came to see Archie Goodwin.”

“What about?”

Before she could answer a voice came from behind Cramer. “Now what?” Wolfe was there, at the door to the office.

Cramer ignored him. “To see Goodwin about what?” he demanded.

“I think I know,” I said. “It's a personal matter. Strictly personal.”

“That's it,” Laura said. “It's personal.”

Cramer looked at me, and back at her. Of course the question was, if he took us downtown and turned us over to a couple of experts could they pry it out of us? He voted no. He spoke to me. “You heard me tell Wolfe he knows the law. So do you,” and marched to the door, opened it, and was gone.

“Well?” Wolfe demanded.

I tried the door to make sure it was shut, and turned. “Miss Jay came to see me. I'll take her in the front room.”

“No. The office.” He turned and headed for the kitchen.

I allowed myself an inside grin. Thanks to my having produced the check with Lily's offer of a job in Cramer's presence, he was actually working. When Laura and I had entered the office he would emerge from the kitchen and station himself at the hole. On the
office side the hole was covered by a picture of a waterfall, on the wall at eye level to the right of Wolfe's desk. On the other side, in a little alcove at the end of the hall, it was covered by a sliding panel, and with the panel pushed aside you could not only hear but also see through the waterfall. I had once stood there for three hours with a notebook, recording a conversation Wolfe was having with an embezzler.

Laura retrieved her handbag, a big gray leather one, from the floor where it had dropped when she went for Cramer, and I escorted her to the office, took her jacket and put it on the couch, moved a chair for her to face my desk, swiveled my chair around, and sat. I looked at her. She was a wreck. I wouldn't have known her, especially since I had previously seen her all rigged out, and now she was in a plain gray dress with a black belt. Her cheeks sagged, her hair straggled, and her eyes were red and puffed. You wouldn't suppose a dashing cowgirl could get into such a state.

“First,” I said, “why? Why did you go for him?”

She swallowed. “I just lost my head.” She swallowed again. “I ought to thank you for helping me, when he asked what I came to see you for. I didn't know what to say.”

“You're welcome. What do you say if I ask you?”

“I came to find out something. To find out if you told them what Cal told you yesterday. I know you must have because they've arrested him.”

I shook my head. “They're holding him as a material witness because it was his rope and he found the body. I promised Cal I wouldn't repeat what he told me, and I haven't. If I did they'd have a motive for him, they couldn't ask for better, and they'd charge him with murder.”

“You haven't told them? You swear you haven't?”

“I only swear on the witness stand and I'm not there yet. I have told no one, but I am now faced with a problem. Miss Rowan has hired Nero Wolfe to investigate the murder, and he will ask me for a full report of what happened there yesterday. I can't tell him what Cal told me because of my promise to Cal, and I'll have to tell him I am leaving something out, which he won't like. If Cal were available I would get his permission to tell Mr. Wolfe, but he isn't.”

“Then you haven't even told Nero Wolfe?”

“No.”

“Will you promise me you won't tell the police? That you'll never tell them no matter what happens?”

“Certainly not.” I eyed her. “Use your head if you've found it again. Their charging Cal with murder doesn't depend only on me. They have found out that Eisler took a woman to his apartment Sunday night and they're going over it for fingerprints. If they find some of yours, and if they learn that you and Cal are good friends, as they will, he's in for it, and I would be a damn fool to wait till they get me on the stand under oath.”

I turned a palm up. “You see, one trouble is, you and me talking, that you think Cal killed him and I know he didn't. You should be ashamed of yourself. You have known him two years and I only met him last week, but I know him better than you do. I can be fooled and have been, but when he got me aside yesterday and asked me how to go about taking some hide off a toad he was not getting set to commit a murder, and the murder of Wade Eisler was premeditated by whoever took Cal's rope. Not to mention how he looked and talked when he showed me the body. If I thought there was a chance that Cal killed him I wouldn't leave anything out when
I report to Mr. Wolfe. But I can't promise to hang on to it no matter what happens.”

“You can if you will,” she said. “I don't think Cal killed him. I know he didn't. I did.”

My eyes widened. “You did what? Killed Eisler?”

“Yes.” She swallowed. “Don't you see how it is? Of course I've got to tell them I killed him, but when they arrest me Cal will say he killed him because I told him about Sunday night. But I'll say I
didn't
tell him about Sunday night, and it will be my word against his, and they'll think he's just trying to protect me. So it
does
depend on you. You've got to promise you won't tell them what Cal told you yesterday. Because I killed him, and why should you protect me? Why should you care what happens to me if I killed a man?”

I regarded her. “You know,” I said, “at least you've answered my question, why you went for Cramer. You wanted to plant the idea that you're a holy terror. That wasn't so dumb, in fact it was half bright, but now listen to you. You might possibly sell it to the cops that you killed him, at least you could ball them up a while, but not me. When I went to the shack yesterday and found you there with Cal, the first thing he said was that you thought he had killed him. And now you—”

“Cal was wrong. How could I think he had killed him when I knew I had?”

“Nuts. I not only heard what he said, I saw his face, and I saw yours. You still think Cal killed him and you're acting like a half-wit.”

Her head went down, her hands went up to cover her face, and she squeezed her breasts with her elbows. Her shoulders shook.

I sharpened my voice. “The very worst thing you could do would be to try telling the cops that you killed him. It would take them about ten minutes to trip you
up, and then where would Cal be? But maybe you should tell them about Sunday night, but of course not that you told Cal about it. If they find your fingerprints in Eisler's apartment you'll have to account for them, and it will be better to give them the account before they ask for it. That won't be difficult; just tell them what happened.”

“They won't find my fingerprints,” she said, or I thought she did. Her voice was muffled by her hands, still over her face.

“Did you say they won't find your fingerprints?” I asked.

“Yes. I'm sure they won't.”

I gawked at her. It wasn't so much the words as the tone—or not the tone, muffled as it was, but something. Call it a crazy hunch, and you never know exactly what starts a hunch. It was so wild that I almost skipped it, but it never pays to pass a hunch. “You can't be sure,” I said. “You must have touched something. I've been to a party in that apartment. When you entered did you stop in the hall with the marble statues?”

“No. He … we went on through.”

“To the living room. You stopped there?”

“Yes.”

“Did he take you across to look at the birds in the cages? He always does. The cages are stainless steel, perfect for prints. Did you touch any of them?”

“No, I'm sure I didn't.” She had dropped her hands and lifted her head.

“How close did you go to them?”

“Why … not very close. I'm sure I didn't touch them.”

“So am I. I am also sure that you're a damn liar. There are no marble statues or bird cages in Eisler's apartment. You have never been there. What kind of a
double-breasted fool are you, anyway? Do you go around telling lies just for the hell of it?”

Naturally I expected an effect, but not the one I got. She straightened up in her chair and gave me a straight look, direct and steady.

“I'm not a liar,” she said. “I'm not a fool either, except about Cal Barrow. The kind of a life I've had a girl gets an attitude about men, or anyway I did. No monkey business. Keep your fences up and your cinch tight. Then I met Cal and I took another look, and after a while I guess you would say I was in love with him, but whatever you call it I know how I felt. I thought I knew how he felt too, but he never mentioned it, and of course I didn't. I only saw him now and then, he was mostly up north, and when I came to New York for this rodeo here he was. I thought he was glad to see me, and I let him know I was glad to see him, but still he didn't mention it, and when two weeks went by and pretty soon we would scatter I was trying to decide to mention it myself, and then Sunday night Nan told me about Wade Eisler, how he had—”

“Nan Karlin?”

“Yes. He had told her he was having a party at his apartment, and she went with him, and when they got there there wasn't any party, and he got rough, and she got rough too, and she got away.”

“She told you this Sunday night?”

“Yes, when she got back to the hotel she came to my room. It's next to hers. Then there was this ear.” She lifted a hand to push her hair back over her left ear. “I'm telling you the whole thing. I got careless with a bronc Sunday night and got bruised by a buckle, and I didn't want to admit to Cal that I didn't know how to keep clear around a horse. So when we met for breakfast yesterday morning I told him—you know what I
told him. I guess I thought when he heard that, how a man had tried to bulldog me, he would see that it was time to mention something. I know I was a damn fool, I said I'm a fool when it comes to Cal Barrow, but I guess I don't know him as well as I thought I did. He never goes looking for trouble. I thought he would just ride herd on me, and that would be all right, I wanted him to. I never dreamt he would kill him.”

“He didn't. How many times do I have to tell you he didn't? Who else did Nan tell about it?”

“She was going to tell Roger, Roger Dunning. She asked me if I thought she should tell Roger, and I said yes, because he had asked us to go easy with Eisler, not to sweat him unless we had to, so I thought he ought to know. Nan said she would tell him right away.”

“Who else did she tell?”

“I guess not anybody. She made me promise not to tell Mel.”

“Mel Fox?”

“Yes. She and Mel are going to tie up, and she was afraid he might do something. I'm sure she didn't tell him.”

“Did you tell him?”

“Of course not. I promised Nan I wouldn't.”

“Well.” I lifted my hands and dropped them. “You're about the rarest specimen I've ever come across. I know something about geniuses. I work for one, but you're something new, an anti-genius. It wouldn't do any good to try to tell you—”

The phone rang, and I swiveled my chair around to get it. It was Lon Cohen of the
Gazette.
He wanted to know how much I would take for an exclusive on who roped Wade Eisler and why, and I told him I did and when I typed my confession I would make an extra carbon for him but at the moment I was busy.

As I reached to cradle the receiver Wolfe's voice sounded behind me, not loud but clear enough though it was coming through the waterfall that covered the hole. “Archie, don't move. Don't turn around. She has taken a gun from her bag and is pointing it at you. Miss Jay. Your purpose is clear. With Mr. Goodwin dead there will be no one to disclose what you told Mr. Barrow at breakfast yesterday but Mr. Barrow himself, and you will deny it. You will of course be doomed since you can't hope to escape the due penalty for killing Mr. Goodwin, but you accept it in order to save Mr. Barrow from the doom you think you have contrived for him. A desperate expedient but a passable one; but it's no good now because I have heard you. You can't kill me too; you don't know where I am. Drop the gun. I will add that Mr. Goodwin has worked with me many years; I know him well; and I accept his conclusion that Mr. Barrow did not kill Wade Eisler. He is not easily gulled. Drop the gun.”

I had stayed put, but it wasn't easy. Of course tingles were chasing up and down my spine, but worse than that I felt so damned silly, sitting there with my back to her while Wolfe made his speech. When he stopped it was too much. I swiveled. Her hand with the gun was resting on her knee, and she was staring at it, apparently wondering how it got there. I got up and took it, an old snub-nosed Graber, and flipped the cylinder. Fully loaded.

As I jiggled the cartridges out Wolfe entered from the hall. As he approached he spoke. “Archie. Does Mr. Barrow cherish this woman?”

“Sure he does. This could even key him up to mentioning it.”

“Heaven help him.” He glared down at her. “Madam, you are the most dangerous of living creatures.
However, here you are, and I may need you.” He turned his head and roared, “Fritz!” Fritz must have been in the hall; he appeared immediately. “This is Miss Laura Jay,” Wolfe told him. “Show her to the south room, and when lunch is ready take her a tray.”

“I'm going,” Laura said. “I'm going to—I'm going.”

“No. You'd be up to some mischief within the hour. I am going to expose a murderer, and I have accepted Mr. Goodwin's conclusion that it will not be Mr. Barrow, and you will probably be needed. This is Mr. Fritz Brenner. Go with him.”

“But I must—”

“Confound it, will you go? Mr. Cramer would like to know why you came to see Mr. Goodwin. Do you want me to ring him and tell him?”