Gambit (12 page)

She was standing over by a window, and even with the light at her back, it was apparent from a glance that she was twenty years older. Since Vollmer had dosed her she must have slept, but she looked a lot worse than I felt with my measly three hours. She had nothing to say, just stood facing me as I approached. I stopped at two arms’ length, eyed her, shook my head, and said, “If you’ll take some friendly advice, don’t look in a mirror. What the hell. You were wrong about him, but you didn’t kill him. Fritz and I can give you an air-tight alibi.

Inspector Cramer called and one of the things he wanted was to see you, but Mr.

Wolfe said no. When one of them does see you, you can come clean with why we went there last night - to look for something that might put it on Kalmus - but when they ask why we suspected him, as they will, just say you don’t know,

they’ll have to ask Mr. Wolfe or me. I came to tell you that and also to see if you were still here. I thought you might have cleared out, gone home. I’m going on talking because it may buck you up to hear the manly voice of one who is still with you all the way in spite of your bobble on Kalmus. If and when you wish to speak raise your hand. Speaking for myself, with only a professional interest, not personal, the silver lining makes up for the cloud. Cramer realizes that if whoever killed Jerin also killed Kalmus, and that’s better than even money, he’s got the wrong man in the coop. He’ll hate to let go, and so will the DA, but your father isn’t just riffraff. A suit by him for false arrest would be a lulu. Do you want to say something or shall I go on?”

“Archie,” she said.

I nodded. “That’s me. That’s a good start. You’re Sally Blount. Lunch in an hour and a half.”

“What will… what am I going to do?”

“Snap out of it, of course. You’ve had a hell of a jolt, and at least you’re on your feet, which is something. Fix your hair and get some lipstick on before lunch. I think it very likely that Mr. Wolfe will ask you to go and see your father this afternoon. A note written by him to Nero Wolfe, engaging his services, was found in Kalmus’s pocket, and naturally we want -“

The house phone buzzed. In that room it was on a table in a corner, and I went and got it and said, “Me.”

Wolfe’s voice: “I’m in the kitchen. Is she there?”

“Yes. The worse for wear, but she’s here.”

She was standing there staring at me.

“Her mother is in the office and wishes to see her. Fritz will bring her up.”

“Hold it!’ I took two seconds. “No. I’ll bring her down. Take it from your expert on females, that’s better. I’ll explain why some day when you have an hour to spare.”

“I would prefer -“

“Sure you would. That’s the only chair you really like. A little hardship will be good for you.”

I hung up and turned. I considered leading up to it, decided not to bother, and said, “Your mother’s downstairs and wants to see you. Lipstick?”

You never know. She might have collapsed, or screamed, or set her jaw and refused to budge, or anything. What she did was say ‘All right’ and head for the door, and as I followed her out and down the two flights I was reminding myself of the one basic rule for experts on females: confine yourself absolutely to explaining why she did what she has already done because that will save the trouble of explaining why she didn’t do what you said she would. I even forgot to notice the nice neck and the curves into the shoulders.

Mrs. Blount was in the red leather chair. I suppose the tactful thing would have been for me to join Wolfe in the kitchen, but it was I who had spilled the beans at Sally’s request, and I might be able to help with the sweeping up, so I went in part way and stood. Mrs. Blount got up, floated up, and took hold of Sally’s arms. That woman unquestionably had witch in her; when she rose from a chair you got the impression that she had no need of muscles, it was some kind of automation that IBM never heard of. She didn’t say anything, just took Sally’s arms and looked, and damned if I didn’t catch myself wishing I was Sally. They were close, nearly touching in front.

Sally’s chin was up. “I’ll say I’m sorry if you want me to,” she said, “but I won’t say I was wrong. Archie says I was, but I wasn’t. He was in love with you,

you must have known it. Lots of men are, you must know they are. Maybe I was wrong not trusting him about father, and if I was I would tell him I was sorry about that, but I can’t now. Do you want me to tell you I’m sorry?”

Mrs. Blount was slowly shaking her head. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “Of course we’re both sorry.”

“Yes, I suppose we are.”

“Of course. I’m as sorry as you are that you hurt Dan like that. You hurt him terribly.” She let go of Sally’s arms. “About me, men being in love with me,

there’s nothing to say. You thought that years ago, you told me so, when you were just a child, and what can I say'You don’t remember what I said then.”

“Oh yes I do. You said love was really love only when it was returned. I never said you returned it. I never thought you did. Not even with Dan Kalmus. And what I did, coming to Nero Wolfe, and leaving that night, that had nothing to do with you, that was just for my father.”

“I know it was. But - I’m your mother.”

“I’d do it for you too. Mother, I would.”

“I believe you would. But I hope…” Mrs. Blount let it hang. She turned. “Mr.

Goodwin, it seems to be your lot to hear our intimate affairs. That evening I didn’t shake hands with you because I wouldn’t mean it, but I would now.” She extended a hand. “If you would.”

I moved to take the hand. It was small and firm, and cold. “There’s no longer a difference of opinion,” I said ‘Why not sit down?”

Sally had sat, and where, do you suppose'In the red leather chair. As I moved up one of the yellow ones for her mother I was thinking that jealousy wasn’t enough, it was more complicated than that, but Mrs. Blount was speaking. “May I see Nero Wolfe'If he’s not too busy?”

I said I’d see, and went. In the kitchen Wolfe was on the stool at the big table, drinking beer and watching Fritz peel shallots. He gave me a frown and asked, “They’re bickering?”

“No, sir. They’re both sorry, but Sally copped the red leather chair. Mrs.

Blount wants to see you if you’re not too busy. She shook hands with me, so be prepared for physical contact with a woman.”

Nothing doing. He said something to Fritz, left the stool, picked up the glass with one hand and the bottle with the other, proceeded to the office and on in,

stopped three paces short of the yellow chair, said, “I’m Nero Wolfe, Mrs.

Blount,” bowed from the waist like an ambassador or a butler, went to his desk,

put the glass and bottle down, sat, and asked Sally, “Should you be up'Dr Vollmer said you need rest and quiet.”

“I’m all right,” she said. She didn’t look it.

He turned to the mother. “You wanted me?”

She nodded. “Yes. My husband does. He wants you to come - he wants to see you.

Today.”

Wolfe grunted. “You have spoken with him?”

“No, but Mr. McKinney has. He’s the senior partner in the law firm. He saw him this morning. My husband told him that he wouldn’t - oh. Perhaps you don’t know.

Did Mr. Kalmus tell you, before he - did he tell you yesterday that my husband had written to you to engage your services?”

“No.”

“He told me, on the phone yesterday afternoon. He said -“

“What time did he phone you?”

“About six o’clock. A little before six.”

“Where did he phone from?”

“I don’t know. He said he had told my husband that he thought you should be engaged to investigate something, and my husband had written to you. Then this morning -“

“Did Mr. Kalmus say what I was to investigate?”

“He didn’t say what, just that it was something only he and my husband knew about. Then this morning Mr. McKinney went to see my husband, and -” She stopped, and smiled. It wasn’t actually a smile, just a little twist of her lips that it took good eyes to see. “It isn’t natural for me,” she said, “saying “my husband, my husband.” Since you’re going to … I call him Matt. If I may?”

“As you please, madam.”

“This morning Mr. McKinney went to see him, to tell him about Dan - Mr. Kalmus,

and he said he wants to see you. He wouldn’t tell Mr. McKinney what you are to investigate. Mr. McKinney is getting a permit for you from the District Attorney. He wanted to phone you, to ask you to come to see him, but I told him I would rather come to you. I… I insisted.”

She didn’t look like an insister or sound like one, but toughness is as toughness does, and there she was, no red in her eyes and no sag to her jaw,

only a few hours after she had heard about Kalmus. But she wasn’t cold, though her hand had been; you couldn’t possibly look at her and call her cold.

Wolfe had his arms folded. “The permit will have to be for Mr. Goodwin,” he said, “since I leave my house only on personal errands. But I need -“

“Matt told Mr. McKinney that he must see you.”

“Outside this house Mr. Goodwin is me, in effect - if not my alter ego, my vicar. But I need some information from you. I presume it’s your opinion that your husband did not kill Paul Jerin.”

“Not my opinion. Of course he didn’t.”

“Have you considered the alternatives?”

“Why … yes. Yes, I have.”

“Eliminating the two men in the kitchen, the cook and the steward, and on that I accept the conclusion of the police and the District Attorney, one of four men must have put the arsenic in the chocolate. The four messengers. You realize that?”

“Yes.”

“That’s manifest. But what was the motive'None of them had had any connection or association with Jerin. Therefore I concluded that the purpose was to injure your husband - indeed, to destroy him - and that purpose had apparently been attained. Yesterday my attention was centered on Mr. Kalmus as the most likely of the four. His objective was you. He wanted you, and your husband was in the way. When Mr. Goodwin -“

“That’s absurd, Mr. Wolfe. Absurd.”

He shook his head. “It still isn’t absurd, now that I’ve seen you. For any man vulnerable to the lure of a woman, and most men are, you would be a singular temptation. Kalmus’s death by violence has made the assumption of his guilt untenable, but it hasn’t rendered it absurd. Now we have the other three -

Hausman, Yerkes, and Farrow, your nephew. By the only acceptable hypothesis left to us, one of them killed both Jerin and Kalmus - Jerin to injure your husband,

and Kalmus because he knew or suspected the truth and threatened exposure. When Mr. Goodwin sees your husband he may learn what it is that Kalmus knew, but you are here and I have questions for you; and if you hope to see your husband cleared you will answer with complete candor. Which of those three men had reason to destroy your husband?”

Her eyes were meeting his, straight. “None of them,” she said. “Or if they did … no. It’s impossible.”

“Nothing is impossible in the relations between men and women. Your nephew,

Morton Farrow. It has been suggested that he calculated that with your husband gone, through you he would be able to take control of the corporation. Is that impossible?”

“It certainly is. I wouldn’t give my nephew control of anything whatever, and he knows it.” Again the little twist of her lips. “He came to see you, didn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“Well?”

Wolfe nodded. “Quite. But it’s still possible that he miscalculated. Mr.

Hausman?”

She made a little gesture. “Ernst Hausman is Matt’s oldest friend. He is our daughter’s godfather. He would do anything for Matt, anything. I’m absolutely sure.”

“He’s a dotard. Just short of demented. He came Monday evening to propose a scheme to extricate your husband unequaled, in my experience, for folly and fatuity. Either he’s unhinged or he’s exceptionally crafty, and if the latter you have been hoodwinked. Mr. Yerkes?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Your daughter got him to come here, and he told me himself of dissension with your husband. He wants to be president of his bank, and your husband favors another candidate.”

She nodded. “I know. Matt has told me. Mr. Yerkes knows why, and he doesn’t resent it. It hasn’t affected their friendship.”

“Pfui. Are they paragons'But granting that, even a paragon is still a man. If it wasn’t absurd to suppose that Mr. Kalmus coveted you, what about Mr. Yerkes'

He has seen much of you, hasn’t he?”

For five seconds I thought she wasn’t going to reply. She sat stiff, her eyes level at him. Then she said, “Must you go out of your way to be offensive, Mr.

Wolfe?”

“Nonsense,” he snapped. “Offensive to whom'I suggest that you have a person and a personality capable of arousing desire; should that offend you'I suggest that Mr. Yerkes is not blind and has sensibility; should that offend him'We are not tittle-tattling, madam; we are considering your husband’s fate. I asked for candor. How does Mr. Yerkes feel toward you?”

“We are friends.” She stayed stiff. “But only because he and my husband are friends. My daughter has given you a wrong impression.” She turned to the daughter. “I’m not blaming you, Sally, but you have.” Back to Wolfe. “If you didn’t mean to offend… very well. But I’m just what I am, a middle-aged woman,

and what you suggest, I can’t believe it. I certainly can’t believe it of Charles Yerkes.”

Obviously she meant every word. Lon Cohen had been right, she simply didn’t know it. Wolfe’s eyes were narrowed at her. The minute we were alone he would ask his expert on females for the low-down on her, and the expert was ready.

“Then we’ve wasted ten minutes,” he said. He looked up at the wall clock. “What is to be done, what can be done, now depends on what Mr. Goodwin learns from your husband, and speculation on that would be idle. Can you reach Mr. McKinney now'To tell him that the permit must be for Mr. Goodwin?”

“Yes. At his office. He said he would be there.”

“Do you know his number?”

She said she did, and floated up, and I vacated my chair for her; and she came and took it and dialed. My eyes went to Sally, and the look she gave me said as plain as words, And now of course you’ve fallen for her too. Which was a lie. I merely agreed with Wolfe that she had a person and a personality capable of arousing desire, a purely objective judgment.