And Four To Go (17 page)

'I have no letters from her. I never had any. I had no personal relations with Miss Yare.' Her lips smiled, but the eyes didn't. 'Though I saw her many times, my contact with her was never close. Mr. Gallant preferred to fit her himself. I just looked on. It seems-' She stopped for a word, and found it. 'It seems odd that Nero Wolfe should be starting an inquiry immediately after her death. Or did he start it before?'

'I couldn't say. The first I knew, he gave me this errand this morning. This noon.'

'You don't know much, do you?'

'No, I just take orders.'

'Of course you do know that Miss Yare committed suicide?'

I didn't get an answer in. Gallant, hitting the table with a palm, suddenly shouted at her, 'Name of God! Must you'Send him away!'

'I'm sorry, Mr. Gallant,' I told him. 'I guess my time's up. If you'll tell me where to find your sister and Miss Thorne, that will-'

I stopped because his hand had darted to an ashtray, a big metal one that looked heavy, and since he wasn't smoking he was presumably going to let fly with it. Anita Prince beat him to it. With her left hand she got his wrist, and with her right she got the ashtray and moved it out of reach. It was very quick and deft. Then she spoke, to me. 'Miss Gallant is not here. Miss Thorne is busy, but you can ask Mr. Drew downstairs. You had better go.'

I went. In more favorable circumstances I might have spared another five minutes for a survey of the pin-ups, but not then, not if I had to dodge ashtrays.

In the hall, having pulled the door shut, the indicated procedure, indicated both by the situation and by Miss Prince's suggestion, was to take the elevator down and see Drew again, but a detective is supposed to have initiative. So when I heard a voice, female, floating out through an open door, I went on past the elevator, to the door, for a look. Not only did I see, I was seen, and a voice, anything but female, came at me.

'You. Huh?'

I could have kicked myself. While, as I said, my mission couldn't be called secret with five people on the list, certainly Wolfe had intended it to be private, and there was Sergeant Purley Stebbins of Homicide West, glaring at me.

'Sightseeing?' he asked. Purley's idea of humor is a little primitive. 'The scene of the crime?'

I descended to his level. 'Just morbid,' I told him, crossing the sill. 'Compulsion neurosis. Is this it?'

Evidently it was. The room was about the same size as Alec Gallant's, but while his had been dominated by women without clothes, this one ran to clothes without women. There were coats, suits, dresses, everything. They were on dummies, scattered around; on hangers, strung on a pole along a wall; and piled on a table. At my right one dummy, wearing a skirt, was bare from the waist up; she might have blushed if she had had a face to blush with. There was one exception: a well-made tan wool dress standing by a corner of a desk contained a woman-a very attractive specimen in mold and frame, and in movement she could have been music. Standing beside her was Carl Drew. Seated at the desk was Sergeant Purley Stebbins, with a paper in his hand and other papers on the desk. Also on the desk, at his left, was a telephone-the one, presumably, that Wolfe and I had heard hit the floor.

What I had stumbled into was obvious. Purley was examining the effects, including papers, probably the second time over, of Bianca Voss, deceased, under surveillance on behalf of Alec Gallant Incorporated.

'Actually,' I said, advancing past the immodest dummy, 'this is one homicide I have no finger in. I'm on a fishing trip.' I moved my eyes. 'Would you tell me, Mr. Drew, where I can find Miss Thorne?'

'Right here,' the tan wool dress said. 'I am Miss Thorne.'

'I'm Archie Goodwin of Nero Wolfe's office. May I have a word with you?'

She exchanged glances with Carl Drew. Her glance told me that Drew had told her about me; and his, if I am half as bright as I ought to be, told me that if he was not on a more personal basis with her than he had been with Sarah Yare it wasn't his fault. If he wasn't he would like to be.

'Go ahead,' Drew told her. 'I'll stick around.' She moved toward the door, and I was following when Purley pronounced my name, my last name. He has on occasion called me Archie, but not when I suddenly appeared, uninvited, when he was working on a homicide. I turned.

'Who are you fishing for?' he demanded.

'If I knew,' I said, 'I might tell you, but don't hold your breath.' There was no point in trying to sugar him. The damage, if any, had been done the second he saw me. 'See you in court.'

Emmy Thorne led me down the hall to a door, the next one, and opened it. Walking, she could have been music at that, if her heels had had any purchase. She held the door for me to enter, shut it, went to a chair behind a desk, and sat. The room was less than half the size of the others and displayed neither women nor clothes.

'Sit down,' she said. 'What is this nonsense about letters from Sarah Yare?'

I took the chair at the end of her desk. 'You know,' I said, 'my tie must be crooked or I've got a grease spot. Mr. Drew resented me, and Mr. Gallant was going to throw an ashtray at me. Now you. Why is it nonsense to ask a simple question politely and respectfully?'

'Maybe 'nonsense' isn't the word. Maybe I should have said 'gall.' What right have you to march in here and ask questions at all'Polite or not.'

'None. It's not a right, it's a liberty. I have no right to ask you to have dinner with me this evening, which might not be a bad idea, but I'm at liberty to, and you're at liberty to tell me you'd rather dine at the automat with a baboon, only that wouldn't be very polite. Also when I ask if you have any letters from Sarah Yare you're at liberty to tell me to go climb a tree if you find the question ticklish. I might add that I would be at liberty to climb a pole instead of a tree. Have you any letters from Sarah Yare?'

She laughed. She had fine teeth. She stopped laughing abruptly. 'Good Lord,' she said, 'I didn't think I would laugh for a year. This mess, what happened here yesterday, and then Sarah. No, I have no letters from her. You don't have to climb a tree.' The laughter was all gone, and her gray eyes, straight at me, were cool and keen. 'What else?'

Again I had to resist temptation. With Drew the temptation had been purely professional; with her it was only partly professional and only partly pure. Cramer had said she was in charge of contacts, and one more might be good for her.

Having resisted, I shook my head. 'Nothing else, unless you know of something. For instance, if you know of anyone who might have letters.'

'I don't.' She regarded me. 'Of course I'm curious, if you want to call it that. I was very fond of Sarah, and this coming after all her trouble, naturally I'm wondering why you came here. You say Nero Wolfe is making an inquiry?'

'Yes, he sent me. I don't know who his client is, but my guess would be that it's some friend of Miss Yare's.'

I stood up. 'Someone else may be curious. Thank you, Miss Thorne. I'm glad I don't have to climb a tree.'

She got up and offered a hand. 'You might tell me who it is.'

'I might if I knew.' Her hand was cool and firm and I kept it for a second. 'I'm sorry I interrupted you in there.' That was absolutely true. 'By the way, one more liberty: is Miss Gallant around?'

She said no and came with me to the hall and left me, heading for the scene of the crime. I went the other way, to the elevator. Down on the main floor the woman was there alone, at a table with a portfolio. Not at all like Macy's main floor. Emerging, I turned left, found a phone booth on Madison Avenue, dialed the number I knew best, got Fritz, and asked for Wolfe.

His voice came. 'Yes, Archie?'

'It's full of fish. Swarming. Sarah Yare bought her clothes there for two years and they all loved her. I'm phoning to ask about Flora Gallant. I've seen all the others, but Flora isn't around. My guess is that she's at the DA's office. Do I stick until she comes?'

'No. Satisfactory.'

'Any further instructions?'

'No. Come home.'

IN THE OFFICE, after a late lunch of corned-beef hash with mushrooms, chicken livers, white wine, and grated cheese, which Fritz apologized for because he had had to keep it warm too long, I gave Wolfe a full report of the fishing trip, including all dialogue. When I had finished he nodded, took in air through his nose all the way down, and let it out through his mouth.

'Very well,' he said, 'that settles it. You will now go-'

'Just a minute,' I cut in. 'It doesn't settle it for me. It was bad enough up there, not knowing the score, and before I do any more going I want a little light. Why did you pick on Sarah Yare, and where did the phone book come in?'

'I have an errand for you.'

'Yeah. Will it keep for ten minutes?'

'I suppose so.'

'Then why?'

He leaned back. 'As I told you this morning, I thought I might have been hoodwinked and I intended to find out. It was quite possible that that performance here yesterday-getting us on the phone just in time to hear a murder committed-was flummery. Indeed, it was more than possible. Must I expound that?'

'No. Even Cramer suspected it.'

'So he did. But his theory that Bianca Voss had been killed earlier and that another woman, not the murderer, was there beside the corpse waiting for a phone call, was patently ridiculous. Must I expound that?'

'No, unless it was a lunatic. Anyone who would do that, even the murderer, with the chance that someone might come in any second, would be batty.'

'Of course. But if she wasn't killed at the time we heard those sounds she must have been killed earlier, since you phoned almost immediately and sent someone to that room. Therefore the sounds didn't come from there. Miss Gallant did not dial that number. She dialed the number of some other person whom she had persuaded to perform that hocus-pocus.'

He turned a hand over. 'I had come to that conclusion, or call it surmise, before I went to bed last night, and I had found it intolerable. I will not be mistaken for a jackass. Reading the Times at breakfast this morning, the item about the death of Sarah Yare, my attention was caught by the fact that she had been an actress. An actress can act a part. Also she had been in distress. Also she had died. If she had been persuaded to act that part, it would be extremely convenient-for the one who persuaded her-for her to die before she learned that a murder had been committed and she had been an accessory after the fact. Certainly that was mere speculation, but it was not idle, and when I came down to the office I looked in the phone book to see if Sarah Yare was listed, found that she was, and dialed her number. Algonquin nine, one-eight-four-seven.'

'What for'She was dead.'

'I didn't lift the receiver. I merely dialed it, to hear it. Before doing so I strained my memory. I had to recall an experience that was filed somewhere in my brain, having reached it through my ears. As you know, I am trained to attend, to observe, and to register. So are you. That same experience is filed in your brain. Close your eyes and find it. Take your ears back to yesterday, when you were standing there, having surrendered your chair to Miss Gallant, and she was at the phone, dialing. Not the first number she dialed; you dialed that one yourself later. The second one, when, according to her, she was dialing the number of the direct line to Bianca Voss's office. Close your eyes and let your ears and brain take you back. Insist on it.'

I did so. I got up and stood where I had stood while she was dialing, shut my eyes, and brought it back. In ten seconds I said, 'Okay.'

'Keep your eyes closed. I'm going to dial it. Compare.'

The sound came of his dialing. I held my breath till the end, then opened my eyes and said positively, 'No. Wrong. The first and third and fourth were wrong. The second might-'

'Close your eyes and try it again. This will be another number. Say when.'

I shut my eyes and took five seconds. 'Go.'

The dialing sound came, the seven units. I opened my eyes. 'That's more like it. That was it, anyway the first four. Beyond that I'm a little lost. But in that case-'

'Satisfactory. The first four were enough. The first number, which you rejected, as I did this morning, was Plaza two, nine-oh-two-two, the number of Bianca Voss's direct line according to the phone book-the number which Miss Gallant pretended to be dialing. The second was Sarah Yare's number, Algonquin nine, one-eight-four-seven.'

'Well.' I sat down. 'I'll be damned.'

'So it was still a plausible surmise, somewhat strengthened, but no more than that. If those people, especially Miss Gallant, could not be shown to have had some association with Sarah Yare, it was untenable. So I sent you to explore, and what you found promoted the surmise to an assumption, and a weighty one. What time is it?'

He would have had to twist his neck a whole quarter-turn to look at the wall clock, whereas I had only to lower my eyes to see my wrist. I obliged. 'Five to four.'

'Then instructions for your errand must be brief, and they can be. You will go to Sarah Yare's address on Thirteenth Street and look at her apartment. Her phone might have been discontinued since that book was issued. I need to know that the instrument is still there and operable before I proceed. If I intend to see that whoever tried to make a fool of me regrets it, I must take care not to make a fool of myself. Have I furnished the light you wanted?'

I told him it was at least a glimmer and departed on the errand. If you think I might have shown fuller appreciation of his dialing display, I beg to differ. There is no point in assuring a man that he is a genius when he already knows it. Besides, I was too busy being sore at me. I should have thought of it myself. I certainly should have caught on when I saw him with the phone book.

It was not my day. At the address of the late Sarah Yare on East Thirteenth Street I stubbed my toe again. One thing I think I'm good at is sizing up people, and I was dead wrong about the janitor of that old walk-up. He looked as if anything would go, so I merely told him to let me into Sarah Yare's apartment to check the telephone, and the bum insisted on seeing my credentials. So I misjudged him again. I offered him a sawbuck and told him I only wanted two minutes for a look at the phone with him at my elbow, and when he turned me down I showed him a twenty. He just sneered at it. By that time we were bitter enemies, and if I had showed him a C he would probably have spit on it. The upshot was that I went back home for an assortment of keys, returned, posted myself across the street, waited nearly an hour to be sure the enemy was not peeking, and broke and entered, technically.

I won't describe it; it was too painful. It was a hell of a dump for a Sarah Yare, even for a down-and-outer who had once been Sarah Yare. But the telephone was there, and it was working. I dialed to make sure, and got Fritz, and told him I just wanted to say hello and would be home in fifteen minutes, and he said that would please Mr. Wolfe because Inspector Cramer was there.

'No,' I said.

'Yes,' he said.

'When did he come?'

'Ten minutes ago. At six o'clock. Mr. Wolfe said to admit him and is with him in the office. Hurry home, Archie.'

I did so.

I got a hackie who liked to take advantages, and it took a little less than the fifteen minutes. I ascended the stoop and let myself in, not banging the door, and tiptoed down the hall and stopped short of the office door, thinking to get a sniff of the atmosphere before entering. I got it. Wolfe's voice came.

'& and I didn't say I have never known you to be wrong, Mr. Cramer. I said I have never known you to be more wrong. That is putting it charitably, under provocation. You have accused me of duplicity. Pfui!'

'Nuts.' Cramer had worked up to his grittiest rasp. 'I have accused you of nothing. I have merely stated facts. The time of the murder was supposed to be established by you and Goodwin hearing it on the phone. Is that a fact'Those five people all have alibis for that time. One of them was here with you. Is that a fact'When I put it to you yesterday that that phone business might have been faked, that she might have been killed earlier, all I got was a runaround. You could challenge it circumstantially but not intrinsically, whatever the hell that means. Is that a fact'So that if you and Goodwin got to the witness stand you might both swear that you were absolutely satisfied that you had heard her get it at exactly half past eleven. Is that a fact'Giving me to understand that you weren't interested, you weren't concerned, you had no-'

'No,' Wolfe objected. 'That was not broached.'

'Nuts. You know damn well it was implied. You said you had never had any association with any of those people besides what was in your statement, so how could you be concerned, with Bianca Voss dead'Tell me this, did any of them approach you, directly or indirectly, between seven o'clock yesterday and noon today?'

'No.'

'But-' He bore down on the 'but.' 'But you sent Goodwin there today. He told Stebbins he was on a fishing trip. He talked with Drew, and Gallant, and Miss Prince, and he actually took Miss Throne from under Stebbins' nose, took her out to talk with her. Is that a fact'And they all refused to tell what Goodwin said to them or what they said to him. That is a fact. They say it was a private matter and had nothing to do with the murder of Bianca Voss. And when I come and ask you what you sent Goodwin there for, ask you plainly and politely, you say that you will-What are you laughing at?'

It wasn't a laugh, I just barely caught it, it was hardly even a chuckle, but all the same it could get under your skin. I knew.

'It escaped me, Mr. Cramer. Your choice of adverbs. Your conception of politeness. Pray continue.'

'All right, I asked you. And you said you will probably be ready to tell me within twenty-four hours. And what I said was absolutely justified. I did not accuse you of duplicity. You know what I said.'

'I do indeed, Mr. Cramer.' I couldn't see Wolfe, but I knew he had upturned a palm. 'This is childish and futile. If a connection is established between your murder investigation and the topic of Mr. Goodwin's talks with those people today, it will be only because I formed a conjecture and acted on it. I hope to establish it within twenty-four hours, and meanwhile it will do no harm to give you a hint. Have you any information on the death of a woman named Sarah Yare?'

'Some, yes. Presumed a suicide, but it's being checked. I have two men on it. What about it?'

'I suggest that you assign more men to it, good ones, and explore it thoroughly. I think we will both find it helpful. I may soon have a more concrete suggestion, but for the present that should serve. You know quite well-'

The doorbell rang. I about-faced and looked through the one-way glass panel of the front door. It wasn't a visitor on the stoop, it was a mob. All five of them were there: Gallant, his sister, Anita Prince, Emmy Thorne, and Carl Drew. Fritz appeared from the kitchen, saw me, and stopped. I got my notebook and pen from pockets and wrote:

That phone works. The five subjects are outside wanting in. AG

I told Fritz to stand by, tore out the sheet, entered the office and crossed to Wolfe's desk, and handed it to him.

Wolfe read it, frowned at it for three seconds, turned his head and called, 'Fritz!'

Fritz appeared at the door. 'Yes, sir?'

'Put the chain-bolt on and tell those people they will be admitted shortly. Stay there.'

'Yes, sir.' Fritz went.

Wolfe looked at Cramer. 'Mr. Gallant, his sister, Miss Prince, Miss Thorne, and Mr. Drew have arrived, uninvited and unexpected. You'll have to leave without being seen. In the front room until they have entered. I'll communicate with you later.'

'Like hell I'll leave.' Cramer was on his feet. 'Like hell they're unexpected.' He was moving, toward the hall, his intention plain-taking over as receptionist.

'Mr. Cramer!' It snapped at his back, turning him. 'Would I lie so clumsily'If they had been expected would I have let you in'Would I have sat here bickering with you'Either you leave or I do. If you admit them you'll have them to yourself, and I wish you luck.'

Cramer was glaring. 'You think I'm going to sneak out and sit on your goddam stoop until you whistle?'

'That would be unseemly,' Wolfe conceded. 'Very well.' He pointed at a picture on the wall to his left behind him-a pretty waterfall. 'You know about that. You may take that station, but only if you engage not to disclose yourself unless you are invited. Unequivocally.'

The waterfall covered a hole in the wall. On the other side, in a wing of the hall across from the kitchen, the hole was covered by nothing, and you could not only see through but also hear through. Cramer had used it once before, a couple of years ago.

Cramer stood, considering. Wolfe demanded, 'Well'They're waiting. For you or for me?'

Cramer said, 'Okay, we'll try it your way,' turned and marched to the hall, and turned left.

Wolfe told me, 'All right, Archie. Bring them in.'