Rex Stout - Nero Wolfe - Final Deduction Read online

  "Regards from Mandel. I didn't see the DA. They probably won't bother us again unless and until they have to decide that Jimmy Vail didn't die by accident, which they would hate to do. You have seen the Gazette?"

  "Yes."

  "Any comment?"

  "No."

  "Then I'm still not fired. I'm taking a leave of absence without pay. Say a month, but it may be more."

  His lips tightened. He took a deep breath. "Are you bent on vexing me beyond endurance?"

  "No, sir. I want to grab an opportunity. When I arrived just now Noel Tedder was there on the sidewalk, vexed beyond endurance because you wouldn't see him. His mother told him Wednesday that he could have the money she paid the kidnaper if he could find it and get it, and he came to offer you a one-fifth share to help him. Of course you wouldn't be interested now that you only take cases where all you have to do is put a notice in the paper, so I'm going to tell him I'll take it on myself. I took the liberty of putting him in the front room. I thought I ought to tell you first. Of course it's long odds, but if I got it, the whole pile, my cut would be a hundred grand and I could quit vexing you and open my own office, maybe with Saul Panzer for a partner, and we could-"

  "Shut up!"

  "Yes, sir. That will be one advantage, you won't have to bellow-"

  "Shut up."

  "Yes, sir."

  He regarded me, not with affection. "So you expect to badger me into this fantastic gamble."

  "You might take a minute out to look at it. It would be satisfactory to find something that ten thousand cops and FBI men will be looking for. And each year when you top the eighty-per-cent bracket you relax. I admit it's a big if, but if you raked this in and added it to what you've already collected this year, you could relax until winter, and it's not May yet. If you missed, you would only be out expenses. As for my badgering you, we have nothing on and nothing in prospect, and if I take a month off Fritz can dust your desk and empty the wastebasket and you can open the mail."

  "That's bluster. You wouldn't."

  "The hell I wouldn't."

  He closed his eyes, probably to contemplate the rosy possibility of months and months with no work to do and no would-be customers admitted. In a minute he opened them and muttered, "Very well, bring him in."

  CHAPTER 7

  As Noel Tedder sat in the red leather chair and crossed his legs, showing blue and yellow socks beneath the striped slacks, Wolfe surveyed him. He had to adjust to the outfit. I have heard him say that men who wear conventional clothes are sheep, but I have also heard him say that men who wear unconventional clothes are popinjays. You can't win.

  Tedder asked him if I had told him what he wanted, and Wolfe nodded. He spoke. "The most unpromising enterprise I have ever been asked to undertake, if Mr Goodwin understood you and I understood him. Mrs Vail, your mother, told you that if you recovered the money she paid to ransom her husband, you could keep it; and if I help you, you will pay me one-fifth of what we recover if we're successful, and nothing if we fail. Is that it?"

  "That's it. Of course I-"

  "If you please. When did your mother tell you that?"

  "Wednesday evening. And again this afternoon. With Jimmy gone-my stepfather-I thought I'd better ask her."

  "Wednesday evening, did she broach it or did you?"

  " `Broach'?"

  "Bring it up. Introduce the idea."

  "I don't remember. Does that matter?"

  "It may. If you suggested it a conjecture enters. That you knew where the money was and you wanted to get it in a manner that would entitle you-don't interrupt-entitle you to keep it. You come to me for help because you can't very well just go and get it and produce it. You will give me hints, cannily of course, and guided by them Mr Goodwin, under my direction, will find the money. Even if your hints have made me smell a rat, I'll hold my nose and take my share. So who broached it, your mother or you?"

  Tedder tittered. I don't want to give a false impression, especially since I have mentioned his tenor. Men do titter. "Jesus," he said, "that would be pups. That would be sharp. But how would I know where it is?"

  "You would know where you put it Tuesday night after you or your confederate took it from your mother on Iron Mine Road."

  "Huh?" He was squinting. "You've lost me. Say it again."

  Wolfe wiggled a finger. "Mr Tedder. You have come to me with an extraordinary proposal, and naturally my first question is what about you? Did you kidnap your stepfather?"

  "Balls. He might have recognized me."

  "Did you have a hand in the kidnaping? Yes or no."

  "No. N, O, no." Tedder was still squinting. "Got a Bible?"

  "That wouldn't establish it. If I assume your good faith, where are we? It would be witless to try to compete with the intricate and expert routine of the army of official investigators. If we start at all it must be from a point chosen by us and overlooked by them. Before I accept or decline your proposal I must know if you will agree with me on that point; and first of all I must ask, what if we find the money and your mother repudiates her engagement to let you keep it?"

  "She won't."

  "She might."

  Tedder shook his head. "Four people besides me heard her say it-my sister Margot, her brother Ralph, Frost, the lawyer, and Jimmy. Of course Jimmy's dead."

  "She still might. I must tell you that, if she does, my share will be legally collectible and I'll collect it."

  "Sure, why not? You won't have to. My mother won't renege. What's the point I have to agree on?"

  "It's a series of assumptions, and you may not like them. The first and basic one is that Mr Vail's death was not an accident. He was murdered."

  "Huh?" Tedder uncrossed his legs and sat up. "He pulled that goddam statue over on him."

  "No." Wolfe was emphatic. "I concede that that's conceivable; it may even be sufficiently plausible for the police to accept it; but I reject it. There is no implication in the published accounts that he was drunk. Was he?"

  "No."

  "Had he been drinking?"

  "He had had a couple, not more. His usual, bourbon and water. He could handle half a dozen. He wasn't even started. He was just sleepy. He said he couldn't keep his eyes open and went to the couch."

  "And later, after you and the others had gone- Did you turn the lights off when you left?"

  "All but one. Mother said to leave one on."

  "A good light?"

  "Fairly good. A floor lamp by the wall."

  "And he awoke enough to realize where he was, leave the couch, stand, and walk; and, losing his balance, he caught at the statue, which was insecure, and brought it down on him. It's possible, but I don't believe it. I do not believe that a man awake enough to walk would be so befuddled that he couldn't dodge a falling statue. Was it on a direct line from the couch to the door?"

  "Not direct, but not far out." Tedder was squinting again. "You said murder. How? Was he so sound asleep that he didn't wake up when someone dragged him off the couch and over to the statue and pushed it over on him? Do you believe that?"

  "No. He was drugged."

  "The hell he was."

  "He must have been. In one of his drinks. The handiest assumption is chloral hydrate, which is easily procured. In solution in an alcoholic beverage it has almost no taste. A moderate dose induces a deep sleep approaching coma. It decomposes rapidly and will not be detected by an autopsy unless it is performed within three or four hours after death, and even then the only reliable test is identification of urochloralic acid in the urine. That test is made only when chloral hydrate is specifically suspected, and with Mr Vail I doubt if it was. I am not parading; I had this surmise yesterday and consulted a book."

  He hadn't mentioned it to me; it would have been admitting that Jimmy Vail's death might possibly be of interest to us. We had several books on toxicology on the shelves, but he hadn't been here yesterday, so he must have found one when he was going over Doc Vollmer's shelves. I had had personal experien
ce of chloral hydrate, having once been served a Mickey Finn by a woman named Dora Chapin [see The League of Frightened Men]. Two hours after I had swallowed it you could have rowed me out to Bedloe's Island and pushed the Statue of Liberty onto me and I wouldn't have batted an eye.

  Wolfe was going on. "So that Mr Vail was murdered with deliberation may properly be called a deduction, not an assumption. Not a final deduction, but a basic one, for it is the ground for my assumptions. Whether you like it or not, do you concur?"

  "I don't know." Tedder's tongue showed between his lips. "Go on with your assumptions."

  "They're purely tentative, to establish a starting point. But first another deduction, made three days ago, on Tuesday, by Mr Goodwin and me. Dinah Utley, your mother's secretary, was implicated in the kidnaping, and not indirectly or passively. She had an active hand in it. Her death-"

  "How do you know that?"

  "By observed evidence and interpretation of it. I'll reserve it. I'm exposing my position, Mr Tedder, because I have to if you're going to occupy it with me, but I need not reveal all the steps that have led to it. I'm taking your good faith as a working hypothesis, but there is still that conjecture-that you had a part in the kidnaping and you know where the money is. If so, it was an egregious blunder to come to me. I'll get my share of the money, and you'll get your share of doom. Do you want to withdraw before I commit myself to this mad gamble? Do you want to leave?"

  "Hell no. You talk a lot and you talk big."

  "I hope to the point-our starting point. I am almost there. Miss Utley was involved in the kidnaping and was murdered. Mr Vail was the victim of the kidnaping and was murdered. My assumptions are, first, that both murders were consequential to the kidnaping operation; and second, that the person who killed Mr Vail, with premeditation since he drugged him, being involved in the kidnaping, knows where the money is. He was present at the gathering at that house Wednesday evening. Therefore, if we are to find the money, our starting point is that house and its occupants. If you will proceed from that point with me, I'll accept your proposal."

  Tedder was chewing his lip. "Jesus," he said. He chewed some more. "The way you put it... I guess I'm in over my head. You're saying one of them killed Jimmy-Uncle Ralph or Frost or my sister."

  "Or your mother or you."

  "Sure, we were there." He shook his head. "Holy Christ. My mother, that's crazy. Me, I liked Jimmy. He couldn't see me, but I liked him. Uncle Ralph-"

  "That's irrelevant, Mr Tedder. The murder resulted from the kidnaping-my assumption. The kidnaper wished him no harm and rendered him none; he only wanted the money. Logically that excludes your mother, but not you. There are several possibilities. For one, Miss Utley was killed because she demanded too large a share of the loot. For another, Mr Vail was killed because he had learned that one of those present Wednesday evening was responsible for the kidnaping, and of course that wouldn't do. We ignore the mysterious Mr Knapp perforce, because we don't know who or where he is. Presumably he was a confederate whose chief function was to make the phone calls, but he may also have got the money from your mother, since he spoke to her, and if he has bolted with it, we're done before we start. We could expose the murderer, to no profit, but that's all. I say `we.' Is it `we'? Do we proceed?"

  "How?"

  "First I would need to speak at length, separately, with those who were present Wednesday evening, beginning with you. You would have to bring them here, or send them, by some pretext-or some inducement, perhaps a share of the money. Then I'll see."

  "Great. Just great. I ask them-my sister, for instance-to come and let you grill her to find out if she kidnaped Jimmy and then killed him. Great."

  "You might manage to put it more tactfully."

  "Yeah, I might." He leaned forward. "Look, Mr Wolfe. Maybe you've got it right, your deductions and assumptions, and maybe not. If you have and you find the money, okay, I'll get mine and you'll get yours. I don't owe my uncle a damn thing, and God knows I don't owe that lawyer, Andrew Frost, anything. He talked my mother out of letting me have-oh, to hell with it. As for my sister, I'm not her keeper, repeat not-she can look out for herself. You try putting it to her tactfully and see what-"

  The phone rang. I swiveled and got it. "Nero Wolfe's residence, Archie Goodwin speaking."

  "This is Margot Tedder. I'd like to speak to Mr Wolfe."

  I told her to hold it and turned. "Margot Tedder wants to speak to you."

  Noel made a noise. Wolfe frowned at his phone to remind it that he resents being summoned by it, no matter who, then reached for it. "Yes, Miss Tedder?"

  "Nero Wolfe?"

  "Yes."

  "You never go anywhere, do you?"

  "No."

  "Then I'll have to come there. I'll come now."

  "You won't be admitted. I'll be at dinner. Why do you wish to come?"

  "I want you to help me do something."

  "What?"

  "I'd rather- Oh, it doesn't matter. About the money my mother gave the kidnapers. You know about that."

  "Yes. What about it?"

  "She has told me that if I can find it I can have it, and I want you to help me. We'll have to hurry. I'll come now. Your dinner can wait."

  "I can't. More precisely, I won't. You may come at nine o'clock, not before. I'm busy. You will excuse me. I'm hanging up." He cradled the phone and turned. "Your sister says that her mother told her that if she finds the money paid to the kidnaper she can have it, and she is coming at nine o'clock to enlist my help. I'll tell her you have already engaged me. We have twenty minutes until my dinner time. Where were you from eight o'clock Sunday evening until eight o'clock Wednesday morning?"

  CHAPTER 8

  A man's time-and-place record as given by him may or may not prove anything, even if it doesn't check. There are a lot of people who wouldn't tell you exactly where they had been and what they had done between eight P.M. Sunday and eight P.M. Wednesday even if they hadn't kidnaped or murdered anybody. Wolfe, knowing how easy it is to frame an alibi, has seldom tried to crack one. In all the years I have been with him I haven't checked more than four or five. He has sometimes had Saul Panzer or Fred Durkin or Orrie Cather look into one, but not often. I put what Noel Tedder told him in my notebook, but I knew it wouldn't be checked unless developments nominated Noel for the tag. Besides, only one time and place was essential, either for Noel or for one of the others. It didn't have to be that he himself had snatched Jimmy Vail Sunday evening, or had helped to keep him wherever he had been kept, or had put notes in telephone books Tuesday evening, or had been at Iron Mine Road Tuesday night. The one essential time and place was the Harold F. Tedder library Wednesday evening, and we knew he had been there. They all had. The question had to be asked; if Noel had gone up in a balloon with six United States Senators Sunday morning and hadn't come down until Wednesday noon, he couldn't be expected to know where the money was, and that was the point. But I won't waste my space and your time reporting his whereabouts for those sixty hours.

  More interesting was his reaction to the news that Margot was coming to see Wolfe. It fussed him more than anything Wolfe had said to him. When he said he didn't believe his mother had told her that, he had to squeeze it through his teeth. Evidently he had some strong feeling about his sister, and it wasn't brotherly love. Wolfe tried to ask him questions about Dinah Utley and her relations with Purcell and Frost and Margot, but got no usable answers. Noel wanted to be damn sure that Wolfe wasn't going to let Margot talk him into switching to her. He even offered to bring Uncle Ralph that evening and Andrew Frost in the morning. When Fritz announced dinner he followed Wolfe to the dining-room door, and I had to take his arm and start him to the front.

  Returning and entering the dining room, I found that Wolfe had pulled his chair out but hadn't sat. "A grotesque venture," he grunted. "Preposterous. Will that woman be punctual?"

  "Probably not." I pulled my chair back. "She's not the punctual type."

  "But she may be. You'll
have to be at the phone with your coffee to get Saul and Fred and Orrie. In my room in the morning at eight, and in the office with you at nine." Fritz was there with the stuffed clams, and he sat and took the spoon and fork. He couldn't have sat before giving me instructions because that would have been talking business during a meal, and by heck a rule is a rule is a rule. As I helped myself to clams I held my breath, because if you smell them, mixed with shallots, chives, chervil, mushrooms, bread crumbs, sherry, and dry white wine, you take so many that you don't leave enough room for the duckling roasted in cider with Spanish sauce as revised by Wolfe and Fritz, leaving out the carrot and parsley and putting anchovies in. As I ate the clams I remarked to myself that we darned well had better find at least some leavings of the half a million, since Saul and Fred and Orrie came to twenty-five bucks an hour, plus expenses.

  I don't know how Wolfe first got the notion that when I've had one good look at a woman and heard her speak, especially if she's under thirty, I can answer any question he wants to ask about her, but I know he still has it, chiefly on account of little items like my saying that Margot Tedder wouldn't be punctual. She was twenty-five minutes late. Of course if she had been on time I would have commented that she must need some ready cash quick. When you once get a reputation, or it gets you, you're stuck with it for good.

  I have said that from hearsay she kept her chin up so she could look down her nose, and her manners when she entered the old brownstone didn't contradict it. Crossing the threshold, she gave me a nod for a butler, though I hadn't seen one at 994 Fifth Avenue, and when I took her to the office she stopped at the edge of the big rug, looked it over from side to side and end to end, and asked Wolfe, "Is that a Kazak?"

  "No," he said. "Shirvan."

  "You can't possibly appreciate it. Is it yours?"

  "I doubt it. It was given to me in nineteen thirty-two, in Cairo, by a man to whom I had rendered a service, and I suspected he had stolen it in Kandahar. If it wasn't rightfully his, it isn't rightfully mine. But of course illegality of ownership does not extend indefinitely. If my possession of that rug were challenged by an heir of the Kandahar prince who once owned it, or by one of his wives or concubines, I would enter a defense. It would be a borderline case. After sufficient time legal ownership is undisputed. Your grandfather was a bandit; some of his forays were almost certainly actionable. But if a descendant of one of his victims tried to claim that fur thing you are wearing, she would be laughed at. I'm pleased that you recognize the quality of the rug, though only an ignoramus could mistake it for a Kazak. Kazaks have a long pile. You are Margot Tedder? I am Nero Wolfe." He pointed to the red leather chair. "Sit down and tell me what you want."