Too Many Cooks (6 page)

It occurred to me that I hadn't noticed Constanza around. In a little while she came in, from the hall, ran her eyes over the room, and came and sat down beside me and crossed her knees flagrantly. I saw signs on her face, and leaned toward her to make sure.

'You've been crying.'

She nodded. 'Of course I have! There's a dance at the hotel, and Mr. Tolman asked me to go and my father won't let me! Even though we're in America! I've been in my room crying.' She hitched her knee up a little. 'Father doesn't like me to sit like this, that's why I'm doing it.'

I grunted, 'Leg-jealousy. Parental type.'

'What?'

'Nothing. You might as well make yourself comfortable, he isn't looking at you. Can I get you some cognac?'

We whiled away a pleasant hour, punctuated by various movements and activities outside our little world. Dina Laszio came in from the hall, got herself a liqueur, stopped for a few words with Mamma Mondor, and then moved on to the little stool in front of the radio. She sipped the liqueur and monkeyed with the dials, but got nothing on it. In a minute or two Vukcic came striding across the room, pulled a chair up beside the stool, and sat down. Her smile at him, as he spoke to her, was very good, and I wondered if he was in any condition to see how good it was. Coyne and Keith and Blanc came in from the small parlor. Around ten o'clock we had a visitor-nothing less than Mr. Clay Ashley, the manager of Kanawha Spa. He was fifty, black-haired with no gray, polished inside and out; and had come to make a speech. He wanted us to know that Kanawha Spa felt itself deeply honored by this visit from the most distinguished living representatives of one of the greatest of the arts. He hoped we would enjoy and so forth. Servan indicated Nero Wolfe, the guest of honor, as the appropriate source of the reply, and for once Wolfe had to get up out of his chair without intending to go anywhere. He offered a few remarks, and thanks to Mr. Ashley, saying nothing about train rides and sausages, and Mr. Ashley went, after being presented to those he hadn't met.

It was then time for another little speech, this time by Louis Servan. He said everything was in readiness for the test and explained how it would be. On the dining table would be nine dishes of Sauce Printemps on warmers, each lacking one of the nine seasonings, also a server of squabs, and plates and other utensils. Each taster would slice his own bits of squab; it was not permitted to taste any sauce without squab. Water would be there to wash the palate. Only one taste from each dish was allowed. In front of each dish would be a number on a card, from 1 to 9. Each taster would be provided with a slip of paper on which the nine seasonings were listed, and after each seasoning he would write the number of the dish in which that was lacking. Laszio, who had prepared the sauce, would be in the dining room to preside. Those who had tasted were not to converse with those who had not tasted until, all were finished. To avoid confusion the tasting would be done in this order-Servan read it from a slip:

Mondor

Coyne

Keith

Blanc

Servan

Berin

Vukcic

Vallenko

Rossi

Wolfe

Right away there was a little hitch. When the slips were passed out and it came to Leon Blanc, he shook his head. He told Servan apologetically but firmly, 'No, Louis, I'm sorry. I have tried not to let my opinion of Phillip Laszio make discomfort for any of you, but under no circumstances will I eat anything prepared by him. He is& all of you know& but I'd better not say& '

He turned on his heel and beat it from the room, to the hall. The only thing that ruptured the silence was a long low growl from Jerome Berin, who had already accepted his slip.

Ramsey Keith said, 'Too bad for him. Dear old Leon. We all know-but what the devil! Are you first, Pierre'I hope to God you miss all of 'em! Is everything ready in there, Louis?'

Mamma Mondor came trotting up to face her husband, holding her knitting against her tummy, and squeaked something at him in French. I asked Constanza what it was, and she said she told him if he made one mistake on such a simple thing there would be no forgiveness either by God or by her. Mondor patted her on the shoulder impatiently and reassuringly and trotted for the door to the dining room, closing it behind him. In ten minutes, maybe fifteen, the door opened again and he reappeared.

Keith, who had made the bet with Servan which had started it, approached Mondor and demanded, 'Well?'

Mondor was frowning gravely. 'We have been instructed not to discuss. I can say, I warned Laszio against an excess of salt and he ignored it. Even so, it will be utterly astounding if I have made a mistake.'

Keith turned and roared across the room, 'Lisette, my dearest niece! Give all of them cordials! Insist upon it! Seduce them!'

Servan, smiling, called to Coyne, 'You next, Lawrence.'

The old snowbank went. I could see it would be a long drawn out affair. Constanza had been called across to her father. I wondered what it would be like to dance with a swamp-woman, and went to where Dina Laszio still sat on the radio stool and Vukcic beside her, but got turned down. She gave me an indifferent glance from the long sleepy eyes and said she had a headache. That made me stubborn and I looked around for another partner, but it didn't look promising. Coyne's Chinese wife, Lio, wasn't there, though I hadn't noticed her leave the room. Lisette had taken Keith's command literally and was on a selling tour with a tray of cordials. I didn't care to tackle Mamma Mondor for fear Pierre would get jealous. As for Constanza-well, I thought of all the children at home, and then I considered her, with her eyes close to me and my arm around her and that faint fragrance which made it seem absolutely necessary to get closer so you could smell it better, and I decided it wouldn't be fair to my friend Tolman. I cast another disapproving glance at Vukcic as he sat glued to the chair alongside Dina Laszio, and went over and copped the big chair where Lio Coyne had been.

I'm pretty sure I didn't go to sleep, because I was conscious of the murmur of the voices all the time, but there's no question that my eyes were closed for a spell, and I was so comfortable otherwise that it annoyed me that I couldn't keep from worrying about how those guys could swallow the squabs and sauces less than three hours after the flock of ducks had gone down. It was the blare of the radio starting that woke me-I mean made me open my eyes. Dina Laszio was on her feet, leaning over twisting the dial, and Vukcic was standing waiting for her. She straightened up and melted into him and off they went. In a minute Keith and Lisette Putti were also dancing, and then Louis Servan with Constanza. I looked around. Jerome Berin wasn't there, so apparently they had got down to him on the tasting list. I covered a yawn, and stretched without putting my arms out, and arose and moseyed over to the corner where Nero Wolfe was talking with Pierre Mondor and Lawrence Coyne. There was an extra chair, and I took it.

Pretty soon Berin entered from the dining room and crossed the room to our corner. I saw Servan, without interrupting his dancing, make a sign to Vukcic that he was next, and Vukcic nodded back but showed no inclination to break his clinch with Dina. Berin was scowling. Coyne asked him:

'How about it, Jerome'We've both been in. Number 3 is shallots. No?'

Mondor protested, 'Mr. Wolfe hasn't tried it yet. He goes last.'

Berin growled, 'I don't remember the numbers. Louis has my slip. God above, it was an effort I tell you, with that dog of a Laszio standing there smirking at me.' He shook himself. 'I ignored him. I didn't speak to him.'

They talked. I listened with only one ear, because of a play I was enjoying out front. Servan had highballed Vukcic twice more to remind him it was his turn to taste, without any result. I could see Dina smile into Vukcic's face, and I noticed that Mamma Mondor was also seeing it and was losing interest in her knitting. Finally Servan parted from Constanza, bowed to her, and approached the other couple. He was too polite and dignified to grab, so he just got in their way and they had to stop. They untwined.

Servan said, 'Please. It is best to keep the order of the list. If you don't mind.'

Apparently Vukcic was no longer lit, and anyway he wouldn't have been rude to Servan. With a toss of his head he shook his hair-tangle back, and laughed. 'But I think I won't do it. I think I shall join the revolt of Leon Blanc.' He had to speak loud on account of the radio.

'My dear Vukcic!' Servan was mild. 'We are civilized people, are we not'We are not children.'

Vukcic shrugged. Then he turned to his dancing partner. 'Shall I do it, Dina?' Her eyes were up to him, and her lips moved, but in too low a voice for me to catch it. He shrugged again, and turned and headed for the dining room door and opened it and went in, with her watching his back. She went back to the stool by the radio, and Servan resumed with Constanza. Pretty soon, at eleven-thirty, there was a program change and the radio began telling about chewing gum, and Dina switched it off.

She asked, 'Shall I try another station?'

Apparently they had had enough, so she left it dead. In our corner, Wolfe was leaning back with his eyes shut and Coyne was telling Berin about San Francisco Bay, when his Chinese wife entered from the hall, looked around and saw us and trotted over, and stuck her right forefinger into Coyne's face and told him to kiss it because she had got it caught in a door and it hurt.

He kissed it. 'But I thought you were outside looking at the night.'

'I was. But the door caught me. Look! It hurts.'

He kissed the finger again. 'My poor little blossom!' More kisses. 'My flower of Asia! Now we're talking, run away and let us alone.'

She went off pouting.

Vukcic entered from the dining room, and came straight across to Dina Laszio. Servan told Vallenko he was next. Vukcic turned to him:

'Here's my slip. I tasted each dish once. That's the rule, eh'Laszio isn't there.'

Servan's brows went up. 'Not there'Where is he?'

Vukcic shrugged. 'I didn't look for him. Perhaps in the kitchen.'

Servan called to Keith: 'Ramsey! Phillip has left his post! Only Vallenko and Rossi and Mr. Wolfe are left. What about it?'

Keith said he would trust them if Servan would, and Vallenko went in. In due time he was back, and it was Rossi's turn. Rossi hadn't been in a scrap for over three hours, and I pricked my ears in expectation of hearing through the closed door some hot remarks about sons-in-law, in case Laszio had got back on the job, but there was so much jabber in the parlor that I wouldn't have heard it anyway. When Rossi returned he announced to the gathering that no one but a fool would put as much salt as that in Sauce Printemps, but no one paid any attention to him. Nero Wolfe, last but not least, pried himself loose from his chair and, as the guest of honor, was conducted to the door by Louis Servan. I was darned glad that at last I could see bedtime peeping over the horizon.

In ten minutes the door opened and Wolfe reappeared. He stood on the threshold and spoke:

'Mr. Servan! Since I am the last, would you mind if I try an experiment with Mr. Goodwin?'

Servan said no, and Wolfe beckoned to me. I was already on my feet, because I knew something was up. There are various kinds of experiments that Wolfe might try with me as the subject, but none of them would be gastronomical. I crossed the parlor and followed him into the dining room, and he shut the door. I looked at the table. There were the nine dishes, with numbered cards in front of them, and a big electric server, covered, and a pitcher of water and glasses, and plates and forks and miscellany.

I grinned at Wolfe. 'Glad to help you out. Which one did you get stuck on?'

He moved around the table. 'Come here.' He went on, to the right, to the edge of the big Pocahontas screen standing there, and I followed him. Behind the screen he stopped, and pointed at the floor. 'Look at that confounded mess.'

I stepped back a step, absolutely surprised. I had discounted all the loose talk about killing on account of its being dagoes, and whatever I might have thought about the swamp-woman's little story, at least it hadn't prepared me for blood. But there was the blood, though there wasn't much of it, because the knife was still sticking in the left middle of Phillip Laszio's back, with only the hilt showing. He was on his face, with his legs straight out, so that you might have thought he was asleep if it hadn't been for the knife. I moved across and bent over and twisted the head enough to get a good look at one eye. Then I got up and looked at Wolfe.

He said bitterly, 'A pleasant holiday! I tell you, Archie-but no matter. Is he dead?'

'Dead as a sausage.'

'I see. Archie. We have never been guilty of obstructing justice. That's the legal term, let them have it. But this is not our affair. And at least for the present-what do you remember about our trip down here?'

'I think I remember we came on a train. That's about as far as I could go.'

He nodded. 'Call Mr. Servan.'

AT THREE O'CLOCK in the morning I sat in the small parlor of Pocahontas Pavilion. Across a table from me sat my friend Barry Tolman, and standing back of him was a big-jawed squint-eyed ruffian in a blue serge suit, with a stiff white collar, red tie and pink shirt. His name and occupation had not been kept a secret: Sam Pettigrew, sheriff of Marlin County. There were a couple of nondescripts, one with a stenographer's notebook at the end of the table, and a West Virginia state cop was on a chair tilted against the wall. The door to the dining room stood open and there was still a faint smell of photographers' flashlight bombs, and a murmur of voices came through from sleuths doing fingerprints and similar chores.

The blue-eyed athlete was trying not to sound irritated: 'I know all that, Ashley. You may be the manager of Kanawha Spa, but I'm the prosecuting attorney of this county, and what do you want me to do, pretend he fell on the damn knife by accident'I resent your insinuation that I'm making a grab for the limelight-'

'All right, Barry. Forget it.' Clay Ashley, standing beside me, slowly shook his head. 'Of all the rotten breaks! I know you can't suppress it, of course. But for God's sake get it over with and get 'em out of here-all right, I know you will as soon as you can. Excuse me if I said things& I'm going to try to get some sleep. Have them call me if I can do anything.'

He beat it. Someone came from the dining room to ask Pettigrew a question, and Tolman shook himself and rubbed his bloodshot eyes with his fingers. Then he looked at me:

'I sent for you again, Mr. Goodwin, to ask if you have thought of anything to add to what you told me before.'

I shook my head. 'I gave you the crop.'

'You haven't remembered anything at all that happened, in the parlor or anywhere else, any peculiar conduct, any significant conversation?'

I said no.

'Anything during the day, for instance?'

'Nope. Day or night.'

'When Wolfe called you secretly into the dining room and showed you Laszio's body behind the screen, what did he say to you?'

'He didn't call me secretly. Everybody heard him.'

'Well, he called you alone. Why?'

I lifted the shoulders and let them drop. 'You'll have to ask him.'

'What did he say?'

'I've already told you. He asked me to see if Laszio was dead, and I saw he was, and he asked me to call Servan.'

'Was that all he said?'

'I think he remarked something about it being a pleasant holiday. Sometimes he's sarcastic.'

'He seems also to be cold-blooded. Was there any special reason for his being cold-blooded about Laszio?'

I put my foot down a little harder on the brake. Wolfe would never forgive me if by some thoughtless but relevant remark I got this buzzard really down on us. I knew why Wolfe had bothered to get me in the dining room alone and inquire about my memory before broadcasting the news: it had occurred to him that in a murder case a material witness may be required to furnish bond not to leave the state without permission, or to return to testify at the trial, and it was contrary to his idea of the good life to do either one. It wasn't easy to maintain outward respect for a guy who had been boob enough to fall for that ginger ale act in the club car, but while I had nothing at all against West Virginia I wasn't much more anxious to stay there or return there than Wolfe was.

I said, 'Certainly not. He had never met Laszio before.'

'Had anything happened during the day to make him-er, indifferent to Laszio's welfare?'

'Not that I know of.'

'And had you or he knowledge of a previous attempt on Laszio's life?'

'You'll have to ask him. Me, no.'

My friend Tolman forsook friendship for duty. He put an elbow on the table and pointed a finger at me and said in a nasty tone, 'You're lying.' I also noticed that the squint-eyed sheriff had a scowl on him not to be sneezed at, and the atmosphere of the whole room was unhealthy.

I put my brows up. 'Me lying?'

'Yes, you. What did Mrs. Laszio tell you and Wolfe when she called at your suite yesterday afternoon?'

I hope I didn't gulp visibly. I know my brain gulped, but only once. No matter how he had found out, or how much, there was but one thing to do. I said, 'She told us that her husband told her that he found arsenic in the sugar shaker and dumped it in the sink, and she wanted Wolfe to protect her husband. She also said that her husband had instructed her not to mention it to anyone.'

'What else?'

'That's all.'

'And you just told me that you had no knowledge of a previous attempt on Laszio's life. Didn't you?'

'I did.'

'Well?' He stayed nasty.

I grinned at him. 'Look, Mr. Tolman. I don't want to try to get smart with you, even if I knew how. But consider a few things. In the first place, without any offense-you're just a young fellow in your first term as a prosecutor-Nero Wolfe has solved more tough ones than you've even heard about. You know that, you know his reputation. Even if either of us knew anything that would give you a trail, which we don't, it wouldn't pay you to waste time trying to squeeze juice out of us without our consent, because we're old hands. I'm not bragging, I'm just stating facts. For instance, about my knowing about an attempt to kill Laszio, I repeat I didn't. All I knew was that Mrs. Laszio told us that her husband told her that he found something in the sugar shaker besides sugar. How could he have been sure it was arsenic'Laszio wasn't poisoned, he was stabbed. In my experience-'

'I'm not interested in your experience.' Still nasty. 'I asked you if you remember anything that might have any significance regarding this murder. Do you?'

'I've told you what Mrs. Laszio told us-'

'So has she. Pass that for the moment. Anything else?'

'No.'

'You're sure?'

'Yes.'

Tolman told the state cop, 'Bring Odell in.'

It came to me. So that was it. A fine bunch of friends I had made since entering the dear old Panhandle State-which nickname I had learned from my pal Gershom Odell, house dick of Kanawha Spa. My brain was gulping again, and this time I wasn't sure whether it would get it down or not. The process was interrupted by the entry of my pal, ushered in by the cop. I turned a stare on him which he did not meet. He came and stood near me at the table, so close I could have smacked him one without getting up.

Tolman said, 'Odell, what was it this man told you yesterday afternoon?'

The house dick didn't look at me. He sounded gruff 'He told me Phillip Laszio was going to be killed by somebody, and when I asked him who was going to do it he said they were going to take turns.'

'What else?'

'That's all he said.'

Tolman turned to me, but I beat the gun. I gave Odell a dig in the ribs that made him jump. 'Oh, that's it!' I laughed. 'I remember now, when we were out by the bridle path throwing stones, and you pointed out that ledge to me and told me-sure! Apparently you didn't tell Mr. Tolman everything we said, since he thinks-Did you tell him how I was talking about those dago and polack cooks, and how they're so jealous of each other they're apt to begin killing each other off any time, and how Laszio was the highest paid of the bunch, sixty thousand bucks a year, so they would be sure to pick on him first, and how they would take turns killing him first and then begin on the next one-and then I remember you began telling me about the ledge and how it happened you could leave the hotel at that time of day-' I turned to Tolman. 'That's all that was, just a couple of guys talking to pass the time. You're welcome to any significance you can find in it. If I told you what Odell told me about that ledge-' I laughed and poked my pal in the ribs again.

Tolman was frowning, but not at me. 'What about it, Odell'That's not the way you told it. What about it?'

I had to hand it to Odell for a good poker face, at that. He was the picture of a Supreme Court justice pretending that he had no personal interest in the matter. Still he didn't glance at me, but he looked Tolman quietly in the eye. 'I guess my tongue kinda ran away with me. I guess it was about like he says, just shootin' off. But of course I remembered the name, Phillip Laszio, and any detective would jump at a chance to have a hot one on a murder& '

The squint-eyed ruffian spoke, in a thin mild drawl that startled me. 'You sound pretty inaccurate to me, Odell. Maybe you ought to do less guessin'?'

Tolman demanded, 'Did he or did he not tell you Laszio was going to be killed?'

'Well& the way he just said it, yes. I mean about them all being jealous dagoes, and Laszio getting sixty thousand-I'm sure he said that. I guess that's all there was to it.'

'What about it, Goodwin'Why did you pick on Laszio?'

I showed a palm. 'I didn't pick on him. I happened to mention him because I knew he was the tops-in salary, anyhow. I had just read an article-want to see it?'

The sheriff drawled, 'We're wastin' time. Get the hell out of here, Odell.'

My pal, without favoring me with a glance, turned and made for the door. Tolman called to the cop:

'Bring Wolfe in.'

I sat tight. Except for the little snags that had threatened to trip me up, I was enjoying myself. I was wondering what Inspector Cramer of the New York Homicide Squad would say if he could see Nero Wolfe letting himself be called in for a grilling by small town snoops at half-past three in the morning, because he didn't want to offend a prosecuting attorney! He hadn't been up as late as that since the night Clara Fox slept in his house in my pajamas. Then I thought I might as well offer what help I could, and got up and brought a big armchair from the other end of the room and put it in position near the table.

The cop returned, with my boss. Tolman asked the cop who was left out there, and the cop said, 'That Vookshish or whatever it is, and Berin and his daughter. They tried to shoo her off to bed, but she wouldn't go. She keeps making passes to come in here.'

Tolman was chewing his lip, and I kept one sardonic eye on him while I used the other one to watch Nero Wolfe getting himself into the chair I had placed. Finally Tolman said, 'Send them to their rooms. We might as well knock off until morning. All right, Pettigrew?'

'Sure. Bank it up and sleep on it.' He squinted at the cop. 'Tell Plank to wait out there until we see what arrangements he's made. This is no time of night for anyone to be taking a walk.'

The cop departed. Tolman rubbed his eyes, then, chewing at his lip again, leaned back and looked at Wolfe. Wolfe seemed placid enough, but I saw his forefinger tapping on the arm of his chair and knew what a fire was raging inside of him. He offered as a bit of information, 'It's nearly four o'clock, Mr. Tolman.'

'Thanks.' Tolman sounded peevish. 'We won't keep you long. I sent for you again because one or two things have come up.' I observed that he and the sheriff both had me in the corner of their eyes, and I'd have sworn they were putting over a fast one and trying to catch me passing some kind of a sign to Wolfe. I let myself look sleepy, which wasn't hard.

Wolfe said, 'More than one or two, I imagine. For instance, I suppose Mrs. Laszio has repeated to you the story she told me yesterday afternoon. Hasn't she?'

'What story was that?'

'Come now, Mr. Tolman.' Wolfe stopped tapping with the finger and wiggled it at him. 'Don't be circuitous with me. She was in here with you over half an hour, she must have told you that story. I figured she would. That was why I didn't mention it; it seemed preferable that you should get it fresh from her.'

'What do you mean, you figured she would?'

'Only an assumption.' Wolfe was mild and inoffensive. 'After all, she is a participant in this tragedy, while I am merely a bystander-'

'Participant?' Tolman was frowning. 'Do you mean she had a hand in it'You didn't say that before.'

'Nor do I say it now. I merely mean, it was her husband who was murdered, and she seems to have had, if not premonition, at least apprehension. You know more about it than I do, since you have questioned her. She informed you, I presume, that her husband told her that at noon yesterday, in the kitchen of this place, he found arsenic in a sugar shaker which was intended for him; and that without her husband's knowledge or consent she came to ask my assistance in guarding him from injury and I refused it.'

'Why did you refuse it?'

'Because of my incompetence for the task. As I told her, I am not a food taster or a body guard.' Wolfe stirred a little; he was boiling. 'May I offer advice, Mr. Tolman'Don't waste your energy on me. I haven't the faintest idea who killed Mr. Laszio, or why. It may be that you have heard of me; I don't know; if so, you have perhaps got the impression that when I am engaged on a case I am capable of sinuosities, though you wouldn't think it to look at me. But I am not engaged on this case, I haven't the slightest interest in it, I know nothing whatever about it, and you are as apt to receive pertinent information from the man in the moon as you are from me. My connection with it is threefold. First, I happened to be here; that is merely my personal misfortune. Second, I discovered Mr. Laszio's body; as I told you, I was curious as to whether he was childishly keeping secret surveillance over the table, and I looked behind the screen. Third, Mrs. Laszio told me someone was trying to poison her husband and asked me to prevent it; you have that fact; if there is a place for that piece in your puzzle, fit it in. You have, gentlemen, my sympathy and my best wishes.'

Tolman, who after all wasn't much more than a kid, twisted his head to get a look at the sheriff, who was slowly scratching his cheek with his middle finger. Pettigrew looked back at him and finally turned to Wolfe:

'Look, mister, you've got us wrong I think. We're not aiming to make you any trouble or any inconvenience. We don't regard you as one of that bunch that if they knew anything they wouldn't tell us if they could help it. But you say maybe we've heard of you. That's right. We've heard of you. After all, you was around with this bunch all day talking with 'em. You know'I don't know what Tolman here thinks, but it's my opinion it wouldn't hurt any to tell you what we've found out and get your slant on it. Since you say you've got no interest in it that might conflict. All right, Barry?'