Eeny Meeny Murder Mo

Chapter 8

I felt then, and I still feel, that it was a waste of money to have Saul and Fred and Orrie there; and since we had no client it was Wolfe’s money. When Saul phoned in at five o’clock I could just as well have told him to call it a day. I do not claim that I can handle five people all having a fit at once, even if one of them is seventy-five years old and another one is a woman, but there was no reason to suppose that more than one of them would really explode, and I could certainly handle him. But when Saul phoned I followed instructions, and there went sixty bucks.

They weren’t visible when, at eight minutes after six, the bell rang and I went and opened the door to admit Rita Sorell, nor when I escorted her to the office, introduced her to Wolfe, and draped her fur coat, probably milky mink, over the back of the red leather chair. No one was visible but Wolfe. The fact that she gave Wolfe a smile and fluttered her long dark lashes at him didn’t mean that she was a snob; I had got mine in the hall.

“I’m not in the habit,” she told him, “of going to see men when they send for me. This is a new experience. Maybe that’s why I came; I like new experiences. Mr. Goodwin said you wanted to discuss something?”

Wolfe nodded. “I do. Something private and personal. And since the discussion will be more productive if it is frank and unreserved, we should be alone. If you please, Archie? No notes will be needed.”

I objected. “Mrs. Sorell might want to ask me—”

“No. Leave us, please.”

I went. After shutting the door as I entered the hall, I turned right, went and opened the door to the front room, entered, shut that door too, and glanced around.

All was in order. Lamont Otis was in the big chair by a window, the one Ann Paige had left by, and she was on one side of him and Edey on the other. Jett’s chair was tilted back against the wall to the right. On the couch facing me was Heydecker, in between Fred Durkin and Orrie Cather. Saul Panzer stood in the center of the room. Their faces all came to me and Edey started to speak.

I cut him off. “If you talk,” I said, “you won’t hear, and even if you don’t want to hear, others do. You can talk later. As Mr. Wolfe told you, a speaker behind the couch is wired to a mike in his office, and he is there talking with someone. Since you’ll recognize her voice I don’t need to name her. Okay, Saul.”

Saul, who had moved to the rear of the couch, flipped the switch and Wolfe’s voice sounded.

“... and she described her problem to Mr. Goodwin before he came up to me. She said that on Monday evening of last week she saw a member of the firm in a booth in a lunchroom in secret conference with you; that she had concluded that he was betraying the interest of one of the firm’s clients to you, the client being your husband; that for reasons she thought cogent she would not tell another member or members of the firm; that she had finally, yesterday afternoon, told the one she was accusing and asked for an explanation, and got none; that she refused to name him until she had spoken with me; and that she had come to engage my services. Mr. Goodwin has of course reported this to the police.”

MRS. SORELL: “She didn’t name him?”

WOLFE: “No. As I said, Mrs. Sorell, this discussion should be frank and unreserved. I am not going to pretend that you have named him and are committed. You told Mr. Goodwin on the phone today that you were with a man in a booth in a lunchroom last Monday evening, and you said his name is Gregory Jett; but you could have been merely scattering dust, and at will you can deny you made the call.”

Jett had caused a slight commotion by jerking forward in his tilted chair, but not enough to drown the voice, and a touch on his arm by me had stopped him.

MRS. SORELL: “What if I don’t deny it? What if I repeat it, it was Gregory Jett?”

WOLFE: “I wouldn’t advise you to. If in addition to scattering dust you were gratifying an animus you’ll have to try again. It wasn’t Mr. Jett. It was Mr. Heydecker.”

Heydecker couldn’t have caused any commotion even if he wanted to, with Fred at one side of him and Orrie at the other. The only commotion came from Lamont Otis, who moved and made a choking noise, and Ann Paige grabbed his hand.

MRS. SORELL: “That’s interesting. Mr. Goodwin said I would find it interesting and I do. So I sat in a booth with a man and didn’t know who he was? Really, Mr. Wolfe!”

WOLFE: “No, madam. I assure you it won’t do. I’ll expound it. I assumed that one of three men — Edey, Heydecker, or Jett — had killed Bertha Aaron. In view of what she told Mr. Goodwin it was more than an assumption, it was a conclusion. But three hours ago I had to abandon it, when I learned that those three were in conference together in Mr. Edey’s office at 5:45. It was 5:39 when Mr. Goodwin left Miss Aaron to come up to me. That they were lying, that they were in a joint conspiracy, was most unlikely, especially since others on the premises could probably impeach them. But though none of them could have killed her, one of them could have provoked her doom, wittingly or not. Of the three, only Mr. Heydecker was known to have left around the same time as Miss Aaron — he had said on a personal errand, but his movements could not be checked. My new assumption, not yet a conclusion, was that he had followed her to this address and seen her enter my house, had sought a phone and called you to warn you that your joint intrigue might soon be exposed, and then, no doubt in desperation, had scurried back to his office, fifteen minutes late at the conference.”

It was Edey’s turn to make a commotion and he obliged. He left his chair, moved to the couch, and stood staring down at Heydecker. Saul and I were there, but apparently he had no brilliant idea beyond the stare.

WOLFE: “Now, however, that assumption is a conclusion, and I don’t expect to abandon it. Mr. Heydecker does not believe, and neither do I, that upon receiving his phone call you came here determined to murder. Indeed, you couldn’t have, since you could have no expectation of finding her alone. Mr. Heydecker believes that you merely intended to salvage what you could — at best to prevent the disclosure, at worst to learn where you stood. You called this number and she answered and agreed to admit you and hear you. Mr. Heydecker believes that when you entered and found that she was alone and that she had not seen me, it was on sudden impulse that you seized the paperweight and struck her. He believes that when you saw her sink to the floor, unconscious, and saw the necktie on this desk, the impulse carried you on. He believes that you—”

MRS. SORELL: “How do you know what he believes?”

That would have been my cue if I were needed. I had been instructed to use my judgment. If Heydecker’s reaction made it doubtful I was to get to the office with a signal before Wolfe had gone too far to hedge. It was no strain at all on my judgment. Heydecker was hunched forward, his elbows on his knees and his face covered by his hands.

WOLFE: “A good question. I am not in his skull. I should have said, he says he believes. You might have known, madam, that he couldn’t possibly stand the pressure. Disclosure of his treachery to his firm will end his professional career, but concealment of guilty knowledge of a murder might have ended his life. You might have known—”

MRS. SORELL: “If he says he believes I killed that woman he’s lying. He killed her. He’s a rat and a liar. He phoned me twice yesterday, first to tell me that we had been seen in the lunchroom, to warn me, and again about an hour later to say that he had dealt with it, that our plan was safe. So he had killed her. When Goodwin told me there had been developments I knew what it was, I knew he would lose his nerve, I knew he would lie. He’s a rat. That’s why I came. I admit I concealed guilty knowledge of a murder, and I know that was wrong, but it’s not too late. Is it too late?”

WOLFE: “No. A purge can both clean your conscience and save your skin. What time did he phone you the second time?”

MRS. SORELL: “I don’t know exactly. It was between five and six. Around half past five.”

WOLFE: “What was the plan he had made safe?”

MRS. SORELL: “Of course he has lied about that too. It was his plan. He came to me about a month ago and said he could give me information about my husband that I could use to make — that I could use to get my rights. He wanted—”

Heydecker jerked his head up and yapped, “That’s a lie! I didn’t go to her, she came to me!” That added to my knowledge of human nature. He hadn’t uttered a peep when she accused him of murder. Edey, who was still there staring down at him, said something I didn’t catch.

Mrs. Sorell was going on: “He wanted me to agree to pay him a million dollars for it, but I couldn’t because I didn’t know how much I would get, and I finally said I would pay him one-tenth of what I got. That was that evening at the lunchroom.”

WOLFE: “Has he given you the information?”

MRS. SORELL: “No. He wanted too much in advance. Of course that was the difficulty. We couldn’t put it in writing and sign it.”

WOLFE: “No indeed. A signed document is of little value when neither party would dare to produce it. I presume you realize, Mrs. Sorell, that your purge will have to include your appearance on the stand at a murder trial. Are you prepared to testify under oath?”

MRS. SORELL: “I suppose I’ll have to. I knew I would have to when I decided to come to see you.”

Wolfe (in a new tone, the snap of a whip): “Then you’re a dunce, madam.”

Again that would have been my cue if I were needed. The whole point of the set-up, having the four members of the firm in the front room listening in, was to get Heydecker committed before witnesses. If his nerve had held it would have been risky for Wolfe to crack the whip. But he was done for. He hadn’t written out a confession and signed it, but he might as well have.

MRS. SORELL: “Oh, no, Mr. Wolfe. I’m not a dunce.”

WOLFE: “But you are. One detail alone would sink you. After you rang this number yesterday afternoon, and Miss Aaron answered, and you spoke with her, you got here as quickly as possible. Since you were not then contemplating murder, there was no reason for you to use caution. I don’t know if you have a car and chauffeur, but even if you have, to send for it would have meant delay, and minutes were precious. There is no crosstown subway. Buses, one downtown and one crosstown, would have been far too slow. Unquestionably you took a cab. In spite of the traffic that would have been much faster than walking. The doorman at the Churchill probably summoned one for you, but even if he didn’t, it will be a simple matter to find it. I need only telephone Mr. Cramer, the police inspector who was here this afternoon, and suggest that he locate the cab driver who picked you up at or near the Churchill yesterday afternoon and drove you to this address. In fact, that is what I intend to do, and that will be enough.”

Ann Paige stood up. She was in a fix. She wanted to go to Gregory Jett, where her eyes already were, but she didn’t want to leave Lamont Otis, who was slumped in his chair, his head sagging and his eyes shut. Luckily Jett saw her difficulty and went to her and put an arm around her. It scored a point for romance that he could have a thought for personal matters at the very moment his firm was getting a clout on the jaw.

WOLFE: “I shall also suggest that he send a man here to take you in hand until the cab driver is found. If you ask why I don’t proceed to do this, why I first announce it to you, I confess a weakness. I am savoring a satisfaction. I am getting even with you. Twenty-five hours ago, in this room, you subjected me to the severest humiliation I have suffered for many years. I will not say it gives me pleasure, but I confess it—”

There was a combination of sounds from the speaker: a kind of cry or squeal, presumably from Mrs. Sorell, a sort of scrape or flutter, and what might have been a grunt from Wolfe. I dived for the connecting door and went with it as I swung it open, and kept going, but two paces short of Wolfe’s desk I halted to take in a sight I had never seen before and never expect to see again: Nero Wolfe with his arms tight around a beautiful young woman in his lap, pinning her arms, hugging her close to him. I stood paralyzed.

“Archie!” he roared. “Confound it, get her!”

I obeyed.