Trio For Blunt Instruments (12 page)

'From her. This morning. What he told her he told you. So I'm asking you, to get it straight.'

'Mr. McLeod,' Wolfe cut in. He nodded at the red leather chair. 'Please sit down.'

'No need to sit. I just want to know what that young man said about my daughter.'

'She has told you what he said he said. She has also told Mr. Goodwin and me. We have spoken with her at length. She came shortly after eleven o'clock this morning to see Mr. Goodwin and stayed two hours.'

'My daughter Susan'Came here?'

'Yes.'

McLeod moved. In no hurry, he went to the red leather chair, sat, focused on Wolfe, and demanded, 'What did she come for?'

Wolfe shook his head. 'You have it wrong side up. That tone is for us, not you. We may or may not oblige you later; that will depend. The young man you permitted to pick my corn has been murdered, and because of false statements made by your daughter to the police Mr. Goodwin may be charged with murder. The danger is great and imminent. You say you spent yesterday dynamiting stumps and rocks. Until what hour?'

McLeod's set jaw made his deep-tanned seamed face even squarer. 'My daughter doesn't make false statements,' he said. 'What were they?'

'They were about Mr. Goodwin. Anyone will lie when the alternative is intolerable. She may have been impelled by a desperate need to save herself, but Mr. Goodwin and I do not believe she killed that man. Archie?'

I nodded. 'Right. Now any odds you want to name.'

'And we're going to learn who did kill him. Did you?'

'No. But I would have, if& ' He let it hang.

'If what?'

'If I had known what he was saying about my daughter. I told them that, the police. I heard about it from them, and from my daughter, last night and this morning. He was a bad man, an evil man. You say you're going to learn who killed him, but I hope you don't. I told them that too. They asked me what you did, about yesterday, and I told them I was there in the lot working with the stumps until nearly dark and it made me late with the milking. I can tell you this, I don't resent you thinking I might have killed him, because I might.'

'Who was helping you with the stumps?'

'Nobody, not in the afternoon. He was with me all morning after he did the chores, but then he had to pick the corn and then he had to go with it.'

'You have no other help?'

'No.'

'Other children'A wife?'

'My wife died ten years ago. We only had Susan. I told you, I don't resent this, not a bit. I said I would have killed him if I'd known. I didn't want her to come to New York, I knew something like this might happen-the kind of people she got to know and all the pictures of her. I'm an old-fashioned man and I'm a righteous man, only that word righteous may not mean for you what it means for me. You said you might oblige me later. What did my daughter come here for?'

'I don't know.' Wolfe's eyes were narrowed at him. 'Ask her. Her avowed purpose is open to question. This is futile, Mr. McLeod, since you think a righteous man may wink at murder. I wanted-'

'I didn't say that. I don't wink at murder. But I don't have to want whoever killed Kenneth Faber to get caught and suffer for it. Do I?'

'No. I wanted to see you. I wanted to ask you, for instance, if you know a man named Carl Heydt, but since-'

'I don't know him. I've never seen him. I've heard his name from my daughter; he was the first one she worked for. What about him?'

'Nothing, since you don't know him. Do you know Max Maslow?'

'No.'

'Peter Jay?'

'No. I've heard their names from my daughter. She tells me about people; she tries to tell me they're not as bad as I think they are, only their ideas are different from mine. Now this has happened, and I knew it would, something like this. I don't wink at murder and I don't wink at anything sinful.'

'But if you knew who killed that man or had reason to suspect anyone you wouldn't tell me-or the police.'

'I would not.'

'Then I won't keep you. Good afternoon, sir.'

McLeod stayed put. 'If you won't tell me what my daughter came here for I can't make you. But you can't tell me she made false statements and not say what they were.'

Wolfe grunted. 'I can and do. I will tell you nothing.' He slapped the desk. 'Confound it, after sending me inedible corn you presume to come and make demands on me'Go!'

McLeod's mouth opened and closed again. In no hurry, he got up. 'I don't think it's fair,' he said. 'I don't think it's right.' He turned to go and turned back. 'Of course you won't be wanting any more corn.'

Wolfe was scowling at him. 'Why not'It's only the middle of September.'

'I mean not from me.'

'Then from whom'Mr. Goodwin can't go scouring the countryside with this imbroglio on our hands. I want corn this week. Tomorrow?'

'I don't see& There's nobody to bring it.'

'Friday, then?'

'I might. I've got a neighbor- Yes, I guess so. The restaurant too?'

Wolfe said yes, he would tell them to expect it, and McLeod turned and went. I stepped to the hall, got to the front ahead of him to hand him his hat, and saw him out. When I returned to the office Wolfe was leaning back, frowning at the ceiling. As I crossed to my desk and sat I felt a yawn coming, and I stopped it. A man expecting to be tagged for murder is in no position to yawn, even if he has had no sleep for thirty hours. I had my nose fill the order for more oxygen, swiveled, and said brightly, 'That was a big help. Now we know about the corn.'

Wolfe straightened up. 'Pfui. Call Felix and tell him to expect a delivery on Friday.'

'Yes, sir. Good. Then everything's jake.'

'That's bad slang. There is good slang and bad slang. How long will it take you to type a full report of our conversation with Miss McLeod, yours and mine, from the beginning?'

'Verbatim?'

'Yes.'

'The last half, more than half, is in the notebook. For the first part I'll have to dig, and though my memory is as good as you think it is, that will be a little slower. Altogether, say four hours. But what's the idea'Do you want it to remember me by?'

'No. Two carbons.'

I cocked my head. 'Your memory is as good as mine-nearly. Are you actually telling me to type all that crap just to keep me off your neck until nine o'clock?'

'No. It may be useful.'

'Useful how'As your employee I'm supposed to do what I'm told, and I often do, but this is different. This is our joint affair, you said so, trying to save you from the calamity of losing me. Useful how?'

'I don't know!' he bellowed. 'I say it may be useful, if I decide to use it. Can you suggest something that may be more useful?'

'Offhand, no.'

'Then if you type it, two carbons.'

I got up and went to the kitchen for a glass of milk. I might or might not start on it before four o'clock, when he would go up to the plant rooms for his afternoon session with the orchids.

AT FIVE MINUTES PAST NINE that evening the three men whose names had had checkmarks in front of them in Kenneth Faber's little notebook were in the office, waiting for Wolfe to show. They hadn't come together; Carl Heydt had arrived first, ten minutes early, then Peter Jay, on the dot at nine, and then Max Maslow. I had put Heydt in the red leather chair, and Jay and Maslow on two of the yellow ones facing Wolfe's desk. Nearest me was Maslow.

I had seen Heydt before, of course, but you take a new look at a man when he becomes a homicide candidate. He looked the same as ever-medium height with a slight bulge in the middle, round face with a wide mouth, quick dark eyes that kept on the move. Peter Jay, the something important in the big advertising agency, tall as me but not as broad, with more than his share of chin and a thick dark mane that needed a comb, looked as if he had the regulation ulcer, but it could have been just the current difficulty. Max Maslow, the fashion photographer, was a surprise. With the twisted smile he must have practiced in front of a mirror, the trick haircut, the string tie dangling, and the jacket with four buttons buttoned, he was a screwball if I ever saw one, and I wouldn't have supposed that Sue McLeod would let such a specimen hang on. I admit it could have been just that his ideas were different from mine, but I like mine.

Wolfe came. When there is to be a gathering he stays in the kitchen until I buzz on the house phone, and then he doesn't enter, he makes an entrance. Nothing showy, but it's an entrance. A line from the door to the corner of his desk just misses the red leather chair, so with Heydt in the chair he would have had to circle around his feet and also pass between Heydt and the other two; and he detoured to his right, between the chair and the wall, to his side of the desk, stood, and shot me a glance. I pronounced their names, indicating who was which, and he gave them a nod, sat, moved his eyes from left to right and back again, and spoke.

'This can be fairly brief,' he said, 'or it can go on for hours. I think, gentlemen, you would prefer brevity, and so would I. I assume you have all been questioned by the police and by the district attorney or one of his assistants?'

Heydt and Maslow nodded, and Jay said yes. Maslow had his twisted smile on.

'Then you're on record, but I'm not privy to that record. Since you came here to oblige Miss McLeod, you should know our position, Mr. Goodwin's and mine, regarding her. She is not our client; we are under no commitment to her; we are acting solely in our own interest. But as it now stands we are satisfied that she didn't kill Kenneth Faber.'

'That's damn nice of you,' Maslow said. 'So am I.'

'Your own interest?' Jay asked. 'What's your interest?'

'We're reserving that. We don't know how candid Miss McLeod has been with you, any or all of you, or how devious. I will say only that, because of statements made to the police by Miss McLeod, Mr. Goodwin is under heavy suspicion, and that because she knew the suspicion was unfounded she agreed to ask you gentlemen to come to see me. To lift the suspicion from Mr. Goodwin we must find out where it belongs, and for that we need your help.'

'My God,' Heydt blurted. 'I don't know where it belongs.'

The other two looked at him, and he looked back. There had been a feel in the atmosphere and the looks made it more than a feel. Evidently each of them had ideas about the other two, but of course it wasn't as simple as that if one of them had killed Faber, since he would be faking it. Anyhow, they all had ideas and they were itching.

'Quite possibly,' Wolfe conceded, 'none of you knows. But it is not mere conjecture that one of you has good reason to know. All of you knew he would be there that day at that hour, and you could have gone there at some previous time to reconnoiter. All of you had an adequate motive-adequate, at least, for the one it moved: Mr. Faber had either debased or grossly slandered the woman you wanted to marry. All of you had some special significance in his private thoughts or plans; your names were in his notebook, with checkmarks. You are not targets chosen at random for want of better ones; you are plainly marked by circumstances. Do you dispute that?'

Maslow said, 'All right, that's our bad luck.' Heydt, biting his lip, said nothing. Jay said, 'It's no news that we're targets. Go on from there.'

Wolfe nodded. 'That's the rub. The police have questioned you, but I doubt if they have been importunate; they have been set at Mr. Goodwin by Miss McLeod. I don't know-'

'That's your interest,' Jay said. 'To get Goodwin from under.'

'Certainly. I said so. I-'

'He has known Miss McLeod longer than we have,' Maslow said. 'He's the hero type. He rescued her from the sticks and started her on the path of glory. He's her hero. I asked her once why she didn't marry him if he was such a prize, and she said he hadn't asked her. Now you say she has set the police on him. Permit me to say I don't believe it. If they're on him they have a damn good reason. Also permit me to say I hope he does get from under, but not by making me the goat. I'm no hero.'

Wolfe shook his head. 'As I said, I'm reserving what Miss McLeod has told the police. She may tell you if you ask her. As for you gentlemen, I don't know how curious the police have been about you. Have they tried seriously to find someone who saw one of you in that neighborhood Tuesday afternoon'Of course they have asked you where you were that afternoon, that's mere routine, but have they properly checked your accounts'Are you under surveillance'I doubt it; and I haven't the resources for those procedures. I invite you to eliminate yourselves from consideration if you can. The man who killed Kenneth Faber was in that alley, concealed under that platform, shortly after five o'clock yesterday afternoon. Mr. Heydt. Can you furnish incontestable evidence that you weren't there?'

Heydt cleared his throat. 'If I could, I don't have to furnish it to you. It seems to me-oh, what the hell. No, I can't.'

'Mr. Jay?'

'Incontestable, no.' Jay leaned forward, his chin out. 'I came here because Miss McLeod asked me to, but if I understand what you're after I might as well go. You intend to find out who killed Faber and pin it on him. To prove it wasn't Archie Goodwin. Is that it?'

'Yes.'

'Then count me out. I don't want Goodwin to get it, but neither do I want anyone else to. Not even Max Maslow.'

'That's damn nice of you, Pete,' Maslow said. 'A real pal.'

Wolfe turned to him. 'You, sir. Can you eliminate yourself?'

'Not by proving I wasn't there.' Maslow flipped a hand. 'I must say, Wolfe, I'm surprised at you. I thought you were very tough and cagey, but you've swallowed something. You said we all wanted to marry Miss McLeod. Who fed you that'I admit I do, and as far as I know Carl Heydt does, but not my pal Pete. He's the pay-as-you-go type. I wouldn't exactly call him a Casanova, because Casanova never tried to score by talking up marriage, and that's Pete's favorite gambit. I could name-'

'Stand up.' It was his pal Pete, on his feet, with fists, glaring down at him.

Maslow tilted his head back. 'I wouldn't, Pete. I was merely-'

'Stand up or I'll slap you out of the chair.'

Of course I had plenty of time to get there and in between them, but I was curious. It was likely that Jay, not caring about his knuckles, would go for the jaw, and I wanted to see what effect it would have on the twisted smile. My curiosity didn't get satisfied. As Maslow came up out of the chair he sidestepped, and Jay had to turn, hauling his right back. He started it for Maslow's jaw by the longest route, and Maslow ducked, came on in, and landed with his right at the very best spot for a bare fist. A beautiful kidney punch. As Jay started to bend Maslow delivered another one to the same spot, harder, and Jay went down. He didn't tumble, he just wilted. By then I was there. Maslow went to his chair, sat, breathed, and fingered his string tie. The smile was intact, maybe twisted a little more. He spoke to Wolfe. 'I hope you didn't misunderstand me. I wasn't suggesting that I think he killed Faber. Even if he did I wouldn't want him to get it. On that point we're pals. I was only saying I don't see how you got your reputation if you- You all right, Pete?'

I was helping Jay up. A kidney punch doesn't daze you, it just makes you sick. I asked him if he wanted a bathroom, and he shook his head, and I steered him to his chair. He turned his face to Maslow, muttered a couple of extremely vulgar words, and belched.

Wolfe spoke. 'Will you have brandy, Mr. Jay'Whisky'Coffee?'

Jay shook his head and belched again.

Wolfe turned. 'Mr. Heydt. The others have made it clear that if they have information that would help to expose the murderer they won't divulge it. How about you?'

Heydt cleared his throat. 'I'm glad I don't have to answer that,' he said. 'I don't have to answer it because I have no information that would help. I know Archie Goodwin and I might say we're friends. If he's really in a jam I would want to help if I could. You say Miss McLeod has said something to the police that set them on him, but you won't tell us what she said.'

'Ask her. You can give me no information whatever?'

'No.'

Wolfe's eyes moved right, to the other two, and back again. 'I doubt if it's worth the trouble,' he said. 'Assuming that one of you killed that man, I doubt if I can get at him from the front; I must go around. But I may have given you a false impression, and if so I wish to correct it. I said that to lift the suspicion from Mr. Goodwin we must find out where it belongs, but that isn't vital, for we have an alternative. We can merely shift the suspicion to Miss McLeod. That will be simple, and it will relieve Mr. Goodwin of further annoyance. We'll discuss it after you leave, and decide. You gentlemen may view the matter differently when Miss McLeod is in custody, charged with murder, without bail, but that is your-'

'You're a goddam liar.' Peter Jay.

'Amazing.' Max Maslow. 'Where did you get your reputation'What do you expect us to do, kick and scream or go down on our knees?'

'Of course you don't mean it.' Carl Heydt. 'You said you're satisfied that she didn't kill him.'

Wolfe nodded. 'I doubt if she would be convicted. She might not even go to trial; the police are not blockheads. It will be an ordeal for her, but it will also be a lesson; her implication of Mr. Goodwin may not have been willful, but it was inexcusable.' His eyes went to Maslow. 'You have mentioned my reputation. I made it and I don't risk it rashly. If tomorrow you learn that Miss McLeod has been arrested and is inaccessible, you may-'

''If.'' That crooked smile.

'Yes. It is contingent not on our power but on our preference. I am inviting you gentlemen to have a voice in our decision. You have told me nothing whatever, and I do not believe that you have nothing whatever to tell. Do you want to talk now, to me, or later, to the police, when that woman is in a pickle?'

'You're bluffing,' Maslow said. 'I call.' He got up and headed for the hall. I got up and followed him out, got his hat from the shelf, and opened the front door; and as I closed it behind him and started back down the hall here came the other two. I opened the door again, and Jay, who had no hat, went by and on out, but Heydt stood there. I got his hat and he took it and put it on. 'Look, Archie,' he said. 'You've got to do something.'

'Check,' I said. 'What, for instance?'

'I don't know. But about Sue-my God, he doesn't mean it, does he?'

'It isn't just a question of what he means, it's also what I mean. Damn it, I'm short on sleep, and I may soon be short on life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Get the news every hour on the hour. Pleasant dreams.'

'What did Sue tell the police about you?'

'No comment. My resistance is low and with the door open I might catch cold. If you don't mind?'

He went. I shut the door, put the chain bolt on, returned to the office, sat at my desk, and said, 'So you thought it might be useful.'

He grunted. 'Have you finished it?'

'Yes. Twelve pages.'

'May I see it?'

Not an order, a request. At least he was remembering that it was a joint affair. I opened a drawer, got the original, and took it to him. He inspected the heading and the first page, flipped through the sheets, took a look at the end, dropped it on his desk, and said, 'Your notebook, please.' I sat and got my notebook and pen.

'There will be two,' he said, 'one for you and one for me. First mine. Heading in caps, affidavit by Nero Wolfe. The usual State of New York, County of New York. The text: I hereby depose that the twelve foregoing typewritten pages attached hereto, comma, each page initialed by me, comma, are a full and accurate record of a conversation that took place in my office on October thirteenth, nineteen sixty-one, by Susan McLeod, comma, Archie Goodwin, comma, and myself, semicolon; that nothing of consequence has been omitted or added in this typewritten record, semicolon; and that the conversation was wholly impromptu, comma, with no prior preparation or arrangement. A space for my signature, and below, the conventional formula for notarizing. The one for you, on the same sheet if there is room, will be the same with the appropriate changes.'

I looked up. 'All right, it wasn't just to keep me off your neck. Okay on the power. But there's still the if on the preference. She didn't kill him. She came to me and opened the bag. I'm her hero. She as good as told Maslow that she'd marry me if I asked her. Maybe she could learn how to dance if she tried hard, though I admit that's doubtful. She makes a lot more than you pay me, and we could postpone the babies. You said you doubt if she would be convicted, but that's not good enough. Before I sign that affidavit I would need to know that you won't chuck the joint affair as soon as the heat is off of me.'

'Rrrhhh,' he said.

'I agree,' I said, 'it's a goddam nuisance. It's entirely her fault, she dragged me in without even telling me, and if a girl pushes a man in a hole he has a right to wiggle out, but you must remember that I am now a hero. Heroes don't wiggle. Will you say that it will be our joint affair to make sure that she doesn't go to trial?'