Too Many Cooks (9 page)

Wolfe said, 'But such melancholy, Mr. Servan, is the worst possible frame of mind for digestion. Since placidity is out of the question, wouldn't active hostility be better'Hostility for the person responsible?'

Servan's brows went up. 'You mean for Berin?'

'Good heavens, no. I said the person responsible. I don't think Berin did it.'

'Oh!' It was a cry from Constanza. From the way she jerked up in her chair, and the look she threw at Wolfe, I was expecting her to hop over and kiss him, or at least spill ginger ale on him, but she just sat and looked.

Vukcic growled, 'They seem to think they have proof. About those seven mistakes on his list of the sauces. How the devil could that be?'

'I have no idea. Why, Marko, do you think Berin did it?'

'No. I don't think.' Vukcic ran his fingers through his hair again. 'It's a hell of a thing. For awhile they suspected me; they thought because I had been dancing with Dina my blood was warm. It was warm!' He sounded defiant. 'You wouldn't understand that, Nero. With a woman like that. She has a fire in her that warmed me once, and it could again, no doubt of that, if it came near and I felt it and let my head go I could throw myself in it.' He shrugged, and suddenly got savage. 'But to stab that dog in the back-I would not have done him that honor! Pull his nose well, is all one does with that sort of fellow!

'But look here, Nero.' Vukcic tossed his head around. 'I brought Miss Berin and Mr. Servan around to see you. I suggested it. If we had found that you thought Berlin guilty, I don't know what could have been said, but luckily you don't. It has been discussed over there among most of us, and the majority have agreed to contribute to a purse for Berin's defense-since he is here in a country strange to him-and certainly I told them that the best way to defend him is to enlist you-'

'But please,' Servan broke in earnestly. 'Please, Mr. Wolfe, understand that we deplore the necessity we can't avoid-you are our guest, my guest, and I know it is unforgivable that under the circumstances we should dare to ask you-'

'But the fact is,' Vukcic took it up, 'that they were quite generous in their contributions to the purse, after I explained your habits in the matter of fees-'

Constanza had edged to the front of her chair and put in an oar: 'The eleven thousand francs I promised, it will take awhile to get them because they're in the bank in Nice-'

'Confound it!' Wolfe had to make it almost a shout. He wiggled a finger at Servan. 'Apparently, sir, Marko has informed you of my rapacity. He was correct; I need lots of money and ordinarily my clients get soaked. But he could have told you that I am also an incurable romantic. To me the relationship of host and guest is sacred. The guest is a jewel resting on the cushion of hospitality. The host is king, in his parlor and his kitchen, and should not condescend to a lesser role. So we won't discuss-'

'Damn all the words!' Vukcic gestured impatiently. 'What do you mean, Nero, you won't do anything about Berin?'

'No. I mean we won't discuss purses and fees. Certainly I shall do something about Berin, I had already decided to before you came, but I won't take money from my hosts for it. And there is no time to lose, and I want to be alone here to consider the matter. But since you are here-' His eyes moved to Constanza. 'Miss Berin. You seem to be convinced that your father didn't kill Mr. Laszio. Why?'

Her eyes widened at him. 'Why& you're convinced too. You said so. My father wouldn't.'

'Never mind about me. Speaking to the law, which is what we're dealing with, what evidence have you'Any?'

'Why& only& it's absurd! Anyone-'

'I see. You haven't any. Have you any notion, or any evidence, as to who did kill Laszio?'

'No! And I don't care! Only anyone would know-'

'Please, Miss Berin. I warn you, we have a difficult task and little time for it. I suggest that on leaving here you go to your room, compose your emotions, and in your mind thoroughly recapitulate-go back over-all you have seen and heard, everything, since your arrival at Kanawha Spa. Do it thoroughly. Write down anything that appears to have the faintest significance. Remember this is a job, and the only one you can perform that offers any chance of helping your father.'

He moved his eyes again. 'Mr. Servan. First, the same questions as Miss Berin. Proof of Berin's innocence, or surmise or evidence of another's guilt. Have you any?'

Servan slowly shook his head.

'That's too bad. I must warn you, sir, that it will probably develop that the only way of clearing Berin is to find where the guilt belongs and fasten it there. We can't clear everybody; after all, Laszio's dead. If you know of anything that would throw suspicion elsewhere, and withhold it, you can't pretend to be helping Berin.'

The dean of the masters shook his head again. 'I know of nothing that would implicate anybody.'

'Very well. About Berin's list of the sauces. He handed it to you himself?'

'Yes, immediately on leaving the dining room.'

'It bore his signature?'

'Yes. I looked at each one before putting it in my pocket, to be sure they could be identified.'

'How sure are you that no one had a chance to change Berin's list after he handed it to you, before you gave it to Mr. Tolman?'

'Positive. Absolutely. The lists were in my inside breast pocket every moment. Of course, I showed them to no one.'

Wolfe regarded him a little, sighed, and turned to Vukcic. 'You, Marko. What do you know?'

'I don't know a damned thing.'

'Did you ask Mrs. Laszio to dance with you?'

'I& what's that got to do with it?'

Wolfe eyed him and murmured, 'Now, Marko. At the moment I haven't the faintest idea how I shall discover what must be discovered, and I must be permitted any question short of insult. Did you ask Mrs. Laszio to dance, or did she ask you?'

Vukcic wrinkled his forehead and sat. Finally he growled, 'I think she suggested it. I might have if she didn't.'

'Did you ask her to turn on the radio?'

'No.'

'Then the radio and the dancing at that particular moment were her ideas?'

'Damn it.' Vukcic was scowling at his old friend. 'I swear I don't see, Nero-'

'Of course you don't. Neither do I. But sometimes it's astonishing how the end of a tangled knot gets buried. It is said that two sure ways to lose a friend are to lend him money and to question the purity of a woman's gesture to him. I wouldn't lose your friendship. It is quite likely that Mrs. Laszio found the desire to dance with you irresistible.-No, Marko, please; I mean no flippancy. And now, if you don't mind& Miss Berin'Mr. Servan'I must consider this business.'

They got up. Servan tried, delicately, to mention the purse again, but Wolfe brushed it aside. Constanza went over and took Wolfe's hand and looked at him with an expression that may or may not have been pure but certainly had appeal in it. Vukcic hadn't quite erased his scowl, but joined the others in their thanks and seemed to mean it. I went to the foyer with them to open the door.

Returning, I sat and watched Wolfe consider. He was leaning back in his favorite position, though by no means as comfortably as in his own chair at home, with his eyes closed. He might have been asleep but for the faint movement of his lips. I did a little considering on my own hook, but I admit mine was limited. It looked to me like Berin, but I was willing to let in either Vukcic or Blanc in case they insisted. As far as I could see, everyone else was absolutely out. Of course there was still the possibility that Laszio had been absent from the dining room only temporarily, during Vukcic's session with the dishes, and had later returned and Vallenko or Rossi had mistaken him for a pincushion before or after tasting, but I couldn't see any juice in that. I had been in the large parlor the entire evening, and I tried to remember whether I had at any time noticed anyone enter the small parlor-or rather, whether I would have been able to swear that no one had. I thought I would. After over half an hour of overworking my brain, it still looked to me like Berin, and I thought it just as well Wolfe had turned down two offers of a fee, since it didn't seem very probable he was going to earn one.

I saw Wolfe stir. He opened his mouth but not his eyes.

'Archie. Those two colored men on duty in the main foyer of Pocahontas Pavilion last evening. Find out where they are.

I went to the phone in my room, deciding that the quickest way was to get hold of my friend Odell and let him do it. In less than ten minutes I was back again with the report.

'They went on at Pocahontas again at six o'clock. The same two. It is now 6:07. Their names-'

'No, thanks. I don't need the names.' Wolfe pulled himself up and looked at me. 'We have an enemy who has sealed himself in. He fancies himself impregnable, and he well may be-no door, no gate, no window in his walls-or hers. Possibly hers. But there is one little crack, and we'll have to see if we can pry it open.' He sighed. 'Amazing what a wall that is; that one crack is all I see. If that fails us& ' He shrugged. Then he said bitterly, 'As you know, we are dressing for dinner this evening. I would like to get to the pavilion as quickly as possible. What the tongue has promised the body must submit to.'

He began operations for leaving his chair.

IT WAS STILL twenty minutes short of seven o'clock when we got to Pocahontas. Wolfe had done pretty well with the black and white, considering that Fritz Brenner was nearly a thousand miles away, and I could have hired out as a window dummy.

Naturally I had some curiosity about Wolfe's interest in the greenjackets, but it didn't get satisfied. In the main hall, after we had been relieved of our hats, he motioned me on in to the parlor, and he stayed behind. I noted that Odell's information was correct; the two colored men were the same that had been on duty the evening before.

It was more than an hour until dinnertime, and there was no one in the large parlor except Mamma Mondor, knitting and sipping sherry, and Vallenko and Keith, with Lisette Putti between them, chewing the rag on a divan. I said hello and strolled over and tried to ask Mamma Mondor what was the French word for knitting, but she seemed dumb at signs and began to get excited, and it looked as if it might end in a fight, so I shoved off.

Wolfe entered from the hall, and I saw by the look in his eye that he hadn't lost the crack he had mentioned. He offered greetings around, made a couple of inquiries, and was informed that Louis Servan was in the kitchen overlooking the preparations for dinner. Then he came up to me and in a low tone outlined briefly an urgent errand. I thought he had a nerve to wait until I got my glad rags on to ask me to work up a sweat, particularly since no fee was involved, but I went for my hat without stopping to grumble.

I cut across the lawn to get to the main path and headed for the hotel. On the way I decided to use Odell again instead of trying to develop new contacts, and luckily I ran across him in the corridor by the elevators and without having to make inquiries. He looked at me pleased and expectant.

'Did you tell Wolfe'Has he seen Liggett?'

'Nope, not yet. Give us time, can't you'Don't you worry, old boy. Right now I need some things in a hurry. I need a good ink pad, preferably a new one, and fifty or sixty sheets of smooth white paper, preferably glazed, and a magnifying glass.'

'Jumping Jesus.' He stared at me. 'Who you working for, J. Edgar Hoover?'

'No. It's all right, we're having a party. Maybe Liggett will be there. Step on it, huh?'

He told me to wait there and disappeared around the corner. In five minutes he was back, with all three items. As I took them he told me:

'I'll have to put the pad and paper on the bill. The glass is a personal loan, don't forget and skip with it.'

I told him okay, thanked him, and beat it. On the way back I took the path which would carry me past Upshur, and I made a stop there and sought suite 60. I got a bottle of talcum powder from my bathroom and stuck it in my pocket, and my pen and a notebook, then found the copy of the Journal of Criminology I had brought along and thumbed through it to some plates illustrating new classifications of fingerprints. I cut one of the pages out of the magazine with my knife, rolled it up in the paper Odell had given me, and trotted out again and across to Pocahontas. All the time I was trying to guess at the nature of the crack Wolfe thought he was going to pry open with that array of materials.

I got no light on that point from Wolfe. He had apparently been busy, for though I hadn't been gone more than fifteen minutes I found him established in the biggest chair in the small parlor, alongside the same table behind which Tolman had been barricaded against the onslaught of Constanza Berin. Across the table from him, looking skeptical but resigned, was Sergei Vallenko.

Wolfe finished a sentence to Vallenko and then turned to me. 'You have everything, Archie'Good. The pad and paper here on the table, please. I've explained to Mr. Servan that if I undertake this inquiry I shall have to ask a few questions of everyone and take fingerprint samples. He has sent Mr. Vallenko to us first. All ten prints, please.'

That was a hot one. Nero Wolfe collecting fingerprints, especially after the cops had smeared all over the dining-room and it had been reopened to the public! I knew darned well it was phoney, but hadn't guessed his charade yet, so once again I had to follow his tail light without knowing the road. I got Vallenko's specimens, on two sheets, and labelled them, and Wolfe dismissed him with thanks.

I demanded, when we were alone, 'What has this identification bureau-'

'Not now, Archie. Sprinkle powder on Mr. Vallenko's prints.'

I stared at him. 'In the name of God, why'You don't put powder-'

'It will look more professional and mysterious. Do it. Give me the page from the magazine.-Good. Satisfactory. We'll use only the upper half; cut it off and keep it in your pocket. Put the magnifying glass on the table-ah, Mme. Mondor'Asseyez-vous, s'il vous plait.'

She had her knitting along. He asked her some questions of which I never bothered him for a translation, and then turned her over to my department and I put her on record. I never felt sillier in my life than dusting that talcum powder on those fresh clear specimens. Our third customer was Lisette Putti, and she was followed by Keith, Blanc, Rossi, Mondor& Wolfe asked a few questions of all of them, but knowing his voice and manner as well as I did, it sounded to me as if his part of it was as phoney as mine. And it certainly didn't sound as if he was prying any crack open.

Then Lawrence Coyne's Chinese wife came in. She was dressed for dinner in red silk, with a sprig of mountain laurel in her black hair, and with her slim figure and little face and narrow eyes she looked like an ad for a Round the World cruise. At once I got a hint that it was her we were laying for, for Wolfe told me sharply to take my notebook, which he hadn't done for any of the others, but all he did was ask her the same line of questions and explain about the prints before I took them. However, there appeared to be more to come. As I gave her my handkerchief, already ruined, to wipe the tips of her fingers on, Wolfe settled back.

He murmured, 'By the way, Mrs. Coyne, Mr. Tolman tells me that while you were outdoors last evening you saw no one but one of the attendants on one of the paths. You asked him about a bird you heard and he told you it was a whippoorwill. You had never heard a whippoorwill before?'

She had displayed no animation, and didn't now. 'No, there aren't any in California.'

'So I understand. I believe you went outdoors before the tasting of the sauces began, and returned to the parlor shortly after Mr. Vukcic entered the dining room. Isn't that right?'

'I went out before they began. I don't know who was in the dining room when I came back.'

'I do. Mr. Vukcic.' Wolfe's voice was so soft and unconcerned that I knew she was in for something. 'Also, you told Mr. Tolman that you were outdoors all the time you were gone. Is that correct?'

She nodded. 'Yes.'

'When you left the parlor, after dinner, didn't you go to your room before you went outdoors?'

'No, it wasn't cold and I didn't need a wrap& '

'All right. I'm just asking. While you were outdoors, though, perhaps you entered the left wing corridor by way of the little terrace and went to your room that way?'

'No.' She sounded dull and calm. 'I was outdoors all the time.'

'You didn't go to your room at all?'

'No.'

'Nor anywhere else?'

'Just outdoors. My husband will tell you, I like to go outdoors at night.'

Wolfe grimaced. 'And when you re-entered, you came straight through the main hall to the large parlor?'

'Yes, you were there. I saw you there with my husband.'

'So you did. And now, Mrs. Coyne, I must admit you have me a little puzzled. Perhaps you can straighten it out. In view of what you have just told me, which agrees with your account to Mr. Tolman, what door was it that you hurt your finger in?'

She deadpanned him good. There wasn't a flicker. Maybe her eyes got a little narrower, but I couldn't see it. But she wasn't good enough to avoid stalling. After about ten seconds of the stony-facing she said, 'Oh, you mean my finger.' She glanced down at it and up again. 'I asked my husband to kiss it.'

Wolfe nodded. 'I heard you. What door did you hurt it in?'

She was ready. 'The big door at the entrance. You know how hard it is to push, and when it closed-'

He broke in sharply, 'No, Mrs. Coyne, that won't do. The doorman and the hallman have been questioned and their statements taken. They remember your leaving and reentering-in fact, they were questioned about it Tuesday night by Mr. Tolman. And they are both completely certain that the doorman opened the door for you and closed it behind you, and there was no caught finger. Nor could it have been the door from the hall to the parlor, for I saw you come through that myself. What door was it?'

She was wearing the deadpan permanently. She said calmly, 'The doorman is telling a lie because he was careless and let me get hurt.'

'I don't think so.'

'I know it. He is lying.' Quickly and silently, she was on her feet. 'I must tell my husband.'

She was off, moving fast. Wolfe snapped, 'Archie!' I skipped around and got in front of her, on her line to the door. She didn't try dodging, just stopped and looked up at my face. Wolfe said, 'Come back and sit down. I can see that you are a person of decision, but so am I. Mr. Goodwin could hold you with one hand. You may scream and people will come, but they will go again and we'll be where we are now. Sit down, please.'

She did so, and told him, 'I have nothing to scream about. I merely wanted to tell my husband& '

'That the doorman lied. But he didn't. However, there's no need to torment you unnecessarily.-Archie, give me the photograph of those fingerprints on the dining room door.'

I thought to myself, darn you, some day you're going to push the button for my wits when they're off on vacation, and then you'll learn to let me in on things ahead of time. But of course there was only one answer to this one. I reached in my pocket for the plate of reproductions I had cut from the magazine page, and handed it to him. Then, being on at last, I pushed across the specimens I had just taken from Lio Coyne's fingers. Wolfe took the magnifying glass and began to compare. He took his time, holding the two next to each other, looking closely through the glass back and forth, with satisfied nods at the proper intervals.

Finally he said, 'Three quite similar. They would probably do. But the left index finger is absolutely identical and it's exceptionally clear. Here, Archie, see what you think.'

I took the prints and the glass and put on a performance. The prints from the magazine happened to be from some blunt-fingered mechanic, and I don't believe I ever saw any two sets more unlike. I did a good job of it with the comparison, even counting out loud, and handed them back to Wolfe.

'Yes, sir.' I was emphatic. 'They're certainly the same. Anyone could see it.'

Wolfe told Mrs. Coyne gently, almost tenderly, 'You see, madam. I must explain. Of course everyone knows, about fingerprints, but some of the newer methods of procuring them are not widely known. Mr. Goodwin here is an expert. He went over the doors from the dining room to the terrace-among other places-and brought out prints which the local police had been unable to discover, and made photographs of them. So as you see, modern methods of searching for evidence are sometimes fertile. They have given us conclusive proof that it was the door from the terrace to the dining room in which you caught your finger Tuesday evening. I had suspected it before, but there's no need to go into that. I am not asking you to explain anything. Your explanation, naturally, will have to be given to the police, after I have turned this evidence over to them, together with an account of your false statement that it was the main entrance door in which you caught your finger. And by the way, I should warn you to expect little courtesy from the police. After all, you didn't tell Mr. Tolman the truth, and they won't like that. It would have been more sensible if you had admitted frankly, when he asked about your excursion to see the night, that you had entered the dining room from the terrace.'

She was as good at the wooden-face act as anyone I could remember. You would have sworn that if her mind was working at all it was on nothing more important than where she could have lost one of her chopsticks. At last she said, 'I didn't enter the dining room.'

Wolfe shrugged. 'Tell the police that. After your lie to Mr. Tolman, and your lies to us here which are on record in Mr. Goodwin's notebook, and your attempt to accuse the doorman-and above all, these fingerprints.'

She stretched a hand out. 'Give them to me. I'd like to see them.'

'The police may show them to you. If they choose. Forgive me, Mrs. Coyne, but this photograph is important evidence, and I'd like to be sure of turning it over to the authorities intact.'

She stirred a little, but there was no change on her face. After another silence she said, 'I did go into the left wing corridor. By the little terrace. I went to my room and hurt my finger in the bathroom door. Then when Mr. Laszio was found murdered I was frightened and thought I wouldn't say I had been inside at all.'

Wolfe nodded and murmured, 'You might try that. Try it, by all means, if you think it's worth it. You realize, of course, that would leave your fingerprints on the dining room door to be explained. Anyhow you're in a pickle; you'll have to do the best you can.' He turned abruptly to me and got snappy. 'Archie, go to the booth in the foyer and phone the police at the hotel. Tell them to come at once.'

I arose without excessive haste. I was prepared to stall with a little business with my notebook and pen, but it wasn't necessary. Her face showed signs of life. She blinked up at me and put out a hand at me, and then blinked at Wolfe, and extended both her cute little hands in his direction.

'Mr. Wolfe,' she pleaded. 'Please! I did no harm, I did nothing! Please not the police!'

'No harm, madam?' Wolfe was stern. 'To the authorities investigating a murder you tell lies, and to me also, and you call that no harm'Archie, go on!'

'No!' She was on her feet. 'I tell you I did nothing!'

'You entered the dining room within minutes, perhaps seconds, of the moment that Laszio was murdered. Did you kill him?'