Too Many Cooks (3 page)

Wolfe murmured, 'Thrice dead, Laszio. Do other deaths await him?'

Berin sank back and quietly growled, 'They do. I will kill him myself.'

'Indeed. He stole from you too?'

'He has stolen from everyone. God apparently created him to steal, let God defend him.' Berin sat up. 'I arrived in New York Saturday, on the Rex. That evening I went with my daughter to dine at the Churchill, driven by an irresistible hatred. We went to a salon which Laszio calls the Resort Room; I don't know where he stole the idea. The waiters wear the liveries of the world-famous resorts, each one different: Shepheard's of Cairo, Les Figuiers of Juan-les-pins, the Continental of Biarritz, the Del Monte of your California, the Kanawha Spa where this train carries us-many of them, dozens-everything is big here. We sat at a table, and what did I see'A waiter-a waiter carrying Laszio slop-in the livery of my own Corridona! Imagine it! I would have rushed to him and demanded that he take it off-I would have torn it from him with these hands'-he shook them violently at Wolfe's face-'but my daughter held me. She said I must not disgrace her; but my own disgrace'No matter, that?'

Wolfe shook his head, visibly, in sympathy, and reached to pour beer. Berin went on: 'Luckily his table was far from us, and I turned my back on it. But wait. Hear this. I looked at the menu. Fourth of the entrees, what did I see'What?'

'Not, I hope, saucisse minuit.'

'Yes! I did! Printed fourth of the entrees! Of course I had been informed of it before. I knew that Laszio had for years been serving minced leather spiced with God knows what and calling it saucisse minuit-but to see it printed there, as on my own menu! The whole room, the tables and chairs, all those liveries, danced before my eyes. Had Laszio appeared at that moment I would have killed him with these hands. But he did not. I ordered two portions of it from the waiter-my voice trembled as I pronounced it. It was served on porcelain-bah!-and looked like-I shall not say what. This time I gave my daughter no chance to protest. I took the services, one in each hand, arose from my chair, and with calm deliberation turned my wrists and deposited the vile mess in the middle of the carpet! Naturally, there was comment. My waiter came running. I took my daughter's arm and departed. We were intercepted by a chef des garcons. I silenced him! I told him in a sufficient tone: 'I am Jerome Berin of the Corridona at San Remo! Bring Phillip Laszio here and show him what I have done, but keep me from his throat!' I said little more; it was not necessary. I took my daughter to Rusterman's, and met Vukcic, and he soothed me with a plate of his goulash and a bottle of Chateau Latour. The '29.'

Wolfe nodded. 'It would soothe a tiger.'

'It did. I slept well. But the next morning-yesterday-do you know what happened'A man came to me at my hotel with a message from Phillip Laszio inviting me to lunch! Can you credit such effrontery'But wait, that was not all. The man who brought the message was Alberto Malfi!'

'Indeed. Should I know him?'

'Not now. Now he is not Alberto, but Albert-Albert Malfi, once a Corsican fruit slicer whom I discovered in a cafe in Ajaccio. I took him to Paris-I was then at the Provencal-trained and taught him, and made a good entree man of him. He is now Laszio's first assistant at the Churchill. Laszio stole him from me in London in 1930. Stole my best pupil, and laughed at me! And now the brazen frog sends him to me with an invitation to lunch! Alberto appears before me in a morning coat, bows, and as if nothing had ever happened, delivers such a message in perfect English!'

'I take it you didn't go.'

'Pah! Would I eat poison'I kicked Alberto out of the room.' Berin shuddered. 'I shall never forget-once in 1926, when I was ill and could not work, I came that close'-he held thumb and forefinger half an inch apart-'to giving Alberto the recipe for saucisse minuit. God above! If I had! He would be making it now for Laszio's menu! Horrible!'

Wolfe agreed. He had finished another bottle, and he now started on a suave speech of sympathy and understanding. It gave me a distinct pain. He might have seen it was wasted effort, that there wasn't a chance of his getting what he wanted; and it made me indignant to see him belittling himself trying to horn a favor out of that wild-eyed sausage cook. Besides, the train had made me so sleepy I couldn't keep my eyes open. I stood up.

Wolfe looked at me. 'Yes, Archie?'

I said in a determined voice, 'Club car,' opened the door, and beat it.

It was after eleven o'clock, and half the chairs in the club car were empty. Two of the wholesome young fellows who pose for the glossy hair ads were there drinking highballs, and there was a scattering of the baldheads and streaked grays who had been calling porters George for thirty years. Vukcic and Miss Berin were seated with empty glasses in front of them, neither looking animated or entranced. Next to her on the other side was a square-jawed blue-eyed athlete in a quiet gray suit who would obviously be a self-made man in another ten years. I stopped in front of my friends and dropped a greeting on them. They replied. The blue-eyed athlete looked up from his book and made preparations to raise himself to give me a seat.

But Vukcic was up first. 'Take mine, Goodwin. I'm sure Miss Berin won't mind the shift. I was up most of last night.'

He said goodnights, and was off. I deposited myself, and flagged the steward when he stuck his nose out. It appeared that Miss Berin had fallen in love with American ginger ale, and I requested a glass of milk. Our needs were supplied and we sipped.

She turned the purple eyes on me. They looked darker than ever, and I saw that that question would not be settled until I met them in daylight. She said, with throat in her voice, 'You really are a detective, aren't you'Mr. Vukcic has been telling me, he dines every month at Mr. Wolfe's house, arid you live there. He says you are very brave and have saved Mr. Wolfe's life three times.' She shook her head and let the eyes scold me. 'But you shouldn't have told me that about watering the horses. You might have known I would ask about it and find out.'

I said firmly, 'Vukcic has only been in this country eight years and knows very little about the detective business.'

'Oh, no!' She gurgled. 'I'm not young enough to be such a big. fool as that. I've been out of school three years.'

'All right.' I waved a hand. 'Forget the horses. What kind of a school do girls go to over there?'

'A convent school. I did. At Toulouse.'

'You don't look like any nun I ever saw.'

She finished a sip of ginger ale and then laughed. 'I'm not anything at all like a nun. I'm not a bit religious, I'm very worldly. Mother Cecilia used to tell us girls that a life of service to others was the purest and sweetest, but I thought about it and it seemed to me that the best way would be to enjoy life for a long while, until you got fat or sick or had a big family, and then begin on service to others. Don't you think so?'

I shook my head doubtfully. 'I don't know, I'm pretty strong on service. But of course you shouldn't overdo it. You've been enjoying life so far?'

She nodded. 'Sometimes. My mother died when I was young, and father has a great many rules for me. I saw how American girls acted when they came to San Remo, and I thought I would act the same way, but I found out I didn't know how, and anyway father heard about it when I sailed Lord Gerley's boat around the cape without a chaperon.'

'Was Gerley along?'

'Yes, he was along, but he didn't do any of the work. He went to sleep and fell overboard and I had to tack three times to get him. Do you like Englishmen?'

I lifted a brow. 'Well& I suppose I could like an Englishman, if the circumstances were exactly right. For instance, if it was on a desert island, and I had had nothing to eat for three days and he had just caught a rabbit-or, in case there were no rabbits, a wild boar or a walrus. Do you like Americans?'

'I don't know!' She laughed. 'I have only met a few since I grew up, at San Remo and around there, and it seemed to me they talked funny and tried to act superior. I mean the men. I liked one I knew in London once, a rich one with a bad stomach who stayed at the Tarleton, and my father had special things prepared for him, and when he left he gave me nice presents. I think lots of them I have seen since I got to New York are very good-looking. I saw one at the hotel yesterday who was quite handsome. He had a nose something like yours, but his hair was lighter. I can't really tell whether I like people until I know them pretty well& '

She went on, but I was busy making a complicated discovery. When she had stopped to sip ginger ale my eyes had wandered away from her face to take in accessories, and as she had crossed her knees like American girls, without undue fuss as to her skirt, the view upward from a well-shaped foot and a custom-built ankle was as satisfactory as any I had ever seen. So far, so good; but the trouble was that I became aware that the blue-eyed athlete on the other side of her had one eye focused straight past the edge of his book, and its goal was obviously the same interesting object that I was studying, and my inner reaction to that fact was unsociable and alarming. Instead of being pleased at having a fellow man share a delightful experience with me, I became conscious of an almost uncontrollable impulse to do two things at once: glare at the athlete, and tell her to put her skirt down!

I pulled myself together inwardly, and considered it logically: there was only one theory by which I could possibly justify my resentment at his looking at that leg and my desire to make him stop, and that was that the leg belonged to me. Obviously, therefore, I was either beginning to feel that the leg was my property, or I was rapidly developing an intention to acquire it. The first was nonsense; it was not my property. The second was dangerous, since, considering the situation as a whole, there was only one practical and ethical method of acquiring it.

She was still talking. I gulped down the rest of the milk, which was not my habit, waited for an opening, and then turned to her without taking the risk of another dive into the dark purple eyes.

'Absolutely,' I said. 'It takes a long time to know people. How are you going to tell about anyone until you know them'Take love at first sight, for instance, it's ridiculous. That's not love, it's just an acute desire to get acquainted. I remember the first time I met my wife, out on Long Island, I hit her with my roadster. She wasn't hurt much, but I lifted her in and drove her home. It wasn't until after she sued me for $20,000 damages that I fell in what you might call love with her. Then the inevitable happened, and the children began to come, Clarence and Merton and Isabel and Melinda and Patricia and-'

'I thought Mr. Vukcic said you weren't married.'

I waved a hand. 'I'm not intimate with Vukcic. He and I have never discussed family matters. Did you know that in Japan it is bad form to mention your wife to another man or to ask him how his is'It would be the same as if you told him, he was getting bald or asked him if he could still reach down to pull his socks on.'

'Then you are married.'

'I sure am. Very happily.'

'What are the names of the rest of the children?'

'Well& I guess I told you the most important ones. The others are just tots.'

I chattered on, and she chattered back, in the changed atmosphere, with me feeling like a man just dragged back from the edge of a perilous cliff, but with sadness in it too. Pretty soon something happened. I wouldn't argue about it, I am perfectly willing to admit the possibility that it was an accident, but all I can do is describe it as I saw it. As she sat talking to me, her right arm was extended along the arm of her chair on the side next to the blue-eyed athlete, and in that hand was her half-full glass of ginger ale. I didn't see the glass begin to tip, but it must have been gradual and unobtrusive, and I'll swear she was looking at me. When I did see it, it was too late; the liquid had already begun to trickle onto the athlete's quiet gray trousers. I interrupted her and reached across to grab the glass; she turned and saw it and let out a gasp; the athlete turned red and went for his handkerchief. As I say, I wouldn't argue about it, only it was quite a coincidence that four minutes after she found out that one man was married she began spilling ginger ale on another one.

'Oh, I hope-does it stain'Si gauche! I am so sorry! I wasn't thinking& I wasn't looking& '

The athlete: 'Quite all right-really-really-rite all kight-it doodn't stain-'

More of the same. I enjoyed it. But he was quick on the recovery, for in a minute he quit talking Chinese, collected himself, and spoke to me in his native tongue: 'No damage at all, sir, you see there isn't. Really. Permit me; my name is Tolman. Barry Tolman, prosecuting attorney of Marlin County, West Virginia.'

So he was a trouble-vulture and a politician. But in spite of the fact that most of my contacts with prosecuting attorneys had not been such as to induce me to keep their photographs on my dresser, I saw no point in being churlish. I described my handle to him and presented him to Constanza, and offered to buy a drink as compensation for us spilling one on him.

For myself, another milk, which would finish my bedtime quota. When it came I sat and sipped it and restrained myself from butting in on the progress of the new friendship that was developing on my right, except for occasional grunts to show that I wasn't sulking. By the time my glass was half empty Mr. Barry Tolman was saying:

'I heard you-forgive me, but I couldn't help hearing-I heard you mention San Remo. I've never been there. I was at Nice and Monte Carlo back in 1931, and someone, I forget who, told me I should see San Remo because it was more beautiful than any other place on the Riviera, but I didn't go. Now I& well& I can well believe it.'

'Oh, you should have gone!' There was throat in her voice again, and it made me happy to hear it. 'The hills and the vineyards and the sea!'

'Yes, of course. I'm very fond of scenery. Aren't you, Mr. Goodwin'Fond of-' There was a concussion of the air and a sudden obliterating roar as we thundered past a train on the adjoining track. It ended. 'Fond of scenery?'