Gambit

9

Daniel Kalmus, counselor at law, arrived a little after noon Wednesday. It was a good thing he didn’t put it off until after lunch, as some extra fine lamb kidneys, skewered to keep them open, doused in olive oil seasoned with salt, pepper, thyme, dry mustard, and mace, broiled five-and-three — five minutes on the skin side and three minutes on the cut side — and brushed twice with deviled butter, would have been practically wasted. I have said that Wolfe refuses to let anything whatever spoil a meal if the food is good, but that day, if there had been no reaction whatever, not even a phone call, to Sally’s ultimatum to Kalmus, the kidneys would of course have been chewed and swallowed, but they wouldn’t have been appreciated. They might as well have been served to Voltaire.

That was the first and only time Wolfe has given me instructions and then canceled them, without anything having happened to change his mind. While Sally and I were having breakfast, fresh-baked croissants and eggs poached in red wine and bouillon, he buzzed me on the house phone from his room and told me to call Saul Panzer, Fred Durkin, and Orrie Cather — the three good men he had mentioned to Yerkes — and ask them to come at six o’clock. That improved my appetite for breakfast. I hadn’t the dimmest notion what he was going to have them do, but it couldn’t be just to ask their opinion of Dr. Avery’s suggestion, since together they came to twenty-five bucks an hour. Then only ten minutes later he buzzed me again and told me to skip it. Absolutely unheard of. If there’s one thing he never does it’s toss and turn. A hell of a way to start a day.

When he came down to the office at eleven o’clock and saw the client there, in a chair over by the filing cabinet, with the Times, he paused on the way to his desk to scowl at her for a couple of seconds, acknowledged her good morning with a curt nod, switched the scowl to me, went and put orchids in the vase, sat, removed the paperweight, a chunk of petrified wood, from the little pile of morning mail, and picked up the first item, a letter from the president of a women’s club in Montclair asking if and when about a hundred of the members could come and look at the orchids. I had considered withholding it and answering it myself, in view of his current acute feeling about club members, but had decided that if I could take it he could.

He looked through the mail, put the paperweight back on it, and looked at me. “Any phone calls?”

He never asked that, knowing as he did that if there had been a call which he would want or need to know about I would report it without being asked. So I said, “Yes, sir. Lon Cohen wants to send a man to interview Miss Blount.”

“Why did you tell him she’s here?”

“I didn’t. You know damn well I didn’t. She went for a walk and some journalist probably saw her and tailed her. We can get Saul and Fred and Orrie and have them find out.”

“Archie. I am in no mood for raillery.”

“Neither am I.”

His eyes went to his client. “Miss Blount. When Mr. Kalmus comes you will of course retire before he enters.”

“I’d rather stay,” she said. “I want to.”

“No. Mr. Goodwin will tell you later what was said. You will please withdraw.”

She shook her head. “I’m going to stay.” Not arguing, just stating a fact.

If he had been anything like normal he would have exploded, and if she had stuck to it he would have instructed me to carry her upstairs and lock her in. Instead, he merely glared at her, and then at me, removed the paperweight from the mail, picked up the top letter, and growled, “Your notebook, Archie.”

In the next hour he dictated sixteen letters, only three of them in reply to items that had come that morning. I still have the notebook, and it’s quite an assortment. Though they all got typed, nine of them were never signed and mailed. They were all quite polite. One, to a boy in Wichita, Kansas, apologized for not answering his letter, received two weeks back, asking two pages of questions about detective work, but he didn’t go so far as to answer the questions. He was in the middle of one to an orchid hunter in Ecuador when the doorbell rang; I stepped to the hall for a look, and turned to inform him, “Kalmus.” It was ten minutes past noon.

Naturally I was curious to see how Sally would handle it, so when I ushered the caller to the office and he entered I was right behind. She stayed put, on the chair over by the cabinet, looking straight at him, but obviously not intending to move or speak. He was going to her but stopped halfway, muttered at her, “You silly little goose,” and about-faced. His eyes met Wolfe’s at eight paces, and I pronounced names and indicated the red leather chair. Kalmus spoke. “So you got me here with a threat from a hysterical girl.”

That wasn’t so easy to meet, since Wolfe thinks that any calm and quiet woman is merely taking time out from her chronic hysteria, building up for the next outbreak. So he ignored it. “Since you are here,” he said, with no heat, “you might as well be seated. Eyes at a level are equal. Of course that’s why a judge’s bench is elevated.”

Kalmus went to the red leather chair, but he didn’t settle in it; he just perched on the front half of the seat. “I want to make one thing clear,” he declared. “If you think you can force me to take you as a colleague in handling the defense of Matthew Blount, you’re wrong. Anything I do or don’t do, I’ll decide it strictly on the only proper ground, is it in the interest of my client or isn’t it. Also I want to say that I’m not surprised at the tactics you’re using. It was partly because I know how you operate that I was against hiring you. I don’t blame Miss Blount because she doesn’t know any better. She doesn’t know that coercion by threat partakes of the nature of blackmail, or that if she did what she threatened to do it would be libel. You can’t deny that she wrote that letter at your direction.”

Wolfe nodded. “I dictated it to Mr. Goodwin, he typed it, and she copied it.” From his expression as he regarded the lawyer you might have thought he was merely trying to decide whether I had exaggerated about skin and bones. “As for blackmail, the only thing extorted is half an hour or so of your time. As for intent to libel, her defense would be the truth of the libel, but I concede that she couldn’t possibly prove it. For you and me to discuss it would be pointless. She mistrusts your good faith as her father’s counsel because she thinks you are capable of betraying him for your personal advantage, and of course you deny it. The question is moot and can’t be resolved, so why waste time and words on it? What I would—”

“It’s ridiculous! Childish nonsense!”

“That may be. You’re the only one who knows the real answer, since it is inside you, your head and heart. What I would like to discuss is the theory Miss Blount mentioned in her letter. It is based partly on a conclusion from established fact and partly on an assumption. The assumption is that Mr. Blount is innocent. The conclusion is that—”

“I know all about the theory.”

Wolfe’s brows went up. “Indeed?”

“Yes. If it’s what you told Yerkes last evening. Is it?”

“It is.”

“He told me about it this morning. Not on the phone — he came to my office. He was impressed by it, and so am I. I was impressed when it first entered my mind, a week ago, and when I told Blount about it he too was impressed. I didn’t do what you have done — speak of it to those who may be vitally concerned — at least one of them may be. Have you also told Farrow and Hausman?”

Wolfe’s brows were still up. “It had already occurred to you?”

“Certainly. It had to. If Blount didn’t put arsenic in that chocolate, and he didn’t, it had to be one of those three, and he had to have a reason. I don’t have to tell you that when a crime is committed the first and last question is cui bono? And the only result of the murder of Jerin that could possibly have benefited one of those three was the arrest of Blount on a capital charge. Of course you include me on the list, and I don’t. Is that why you told Yerkes? Because you think this idiotic idea of Miss Blount’s points to me and he’s out of it?”

“No. At present you seem the most likely, but none of them is out of it. I told Yerkes to get talk started. Not just talk about you and Mrs. Blount; even if Miss Blount’s suspicion is valid you have probably been too discreet to give occasion for talk; talk about the other three and their relations with Blount. The success of any investigation depends mainly on talk, as of course you know.” Wolfe turned a hand. “You may not need it. You have known all of them for years. You may already have an inkling, more than an inkling, and, combining it with the fact known only to you and Blount, you may have your case secure. If so you don’t need me.”

Kalmus put his hands on the chair arms to lever himself back on the seat, cocked his head, and closed his eyes to look at something inside. Facing the window beyond Wolfe’s desk, he didn’t look quite as bony as he had in the firelight in the Blount living room, but he looked older; he did have creases, slanting down from the corners of his mouth and nose.

His eyes opened. “I haven’t got my case secure,” he said.

“Hmmmm,” Wolfe said.

“Not secure. That theory, it’s obvious enough if Blount is innocent, but why are you so sure he is? I know why I am, but why are you?”

Wolfe shook his head. “You can’t expect a candid answer to that, since we’re not colleagues. But if I have no other ground there is this: if Blount is guilty I can’t possibly earn the fee I have accepted from his daughter, and an unearned fee is like raw fish — it fills the stomach but is hard to digest. Therefore my client’s father didn’t kill that man.”

“You happen to be right. He didn’t.”

“Good. It’s gratifying to have concurrence from one who knows. It would be even more gratifying to be told how you know, but I can’t expect you to tell me. Presumably it’s the fact known only to you and Mr. Blount.”

“That’s partly it. Chiefly.” Kalmus took a deep breath. “I’m going to ask you something. I’m going to see my client this afternoon. If I suggest to him that we engage you to investigate something, and he approves, will you do it? Investigate one particular matter under my direction?”

“I can’t say. I doubt it. I would have to know first precisely what is to be investigated, and how much I would be restricted by the direction. You disapprove of my tactics on principle.”

“But they get results. If you were satisfied on those two points would you accept?”

“If there were no conflict of interest, if Miss Blount approved, and if it were stated in writing that Mr. Blount is my client, not you, yes. What would I investigate?”

“That will have to wait until I consult Blount. Will you be available this evening?”

“Yes. But I’ll commit myself, if at all, only upon written request from Mr. Blount. I owe some deference to Miss Blount’s opinion of your probity, right or wrong. She is my client. And what of your abrupt somersault regarding me?”

“It wasn’t abrupt.” Kalmus twisted in the chair to face Sally, started to say something, vetoed it, and returned to Wolfe. “The fact you’ve mentioned twice, the fact known only to Blount and me, required investigation — not the fact itself, but what it suggested. I thought I could handle it myself with the help of a couple of men in my office, but day before yesterday, Monday afternoon, I realized that it would take an expert investigator, and I decided to call on you. Then came that item in the paper, that you had been hired on behalf of Blount, and I thought you were trying to horn in, and my reaction to that was natural. But that evening Mrs. Blount phoned me that her daughter had hired you, so you weren’t just trying to horn in, and when I went up there I intended to smooth it out and hire you myself, but you know what I ran into. That ridiculous idea of Miss Blount’s. I admit I acted like a damn fool. It wasn’t Goodwin’s fault, or yours; it was hers.”

He waved it away. “All right, that was stupid. Then yesterday that letter came, obviously drafted by you. I forced myself to look at it objectively, and I had to admit that from your viewpoint you were acting in the legitimate interest of the person who had hired you. And this morning when Yerkes came and told me what you said to him last evening, the theory that I already had myself, it was obvious that you weren’t just making gestures to get a fee, you genuinely thought Blount was innocent. So I came here with the definite intention of engaging your services. It may not have sounded like it, the way I started off, but I still resented that letter and you can’t blame me. I didn’t do any abrupt somersault about you.”

He got up and crossed over to Sally. “Where you got that fool notion,” he said, “God only knows. If you have any sense at all you’ll go home where you belong. Two different newspapers have phoned my office this morning to ask what you’re doing at Nero Wolfe’s house. For God’s sake get some sense.” He put out a hand, pulled it back, and wheeled to face Wolfe. “I’ll see Blount this afternoon and you’ll hear from me either this evening or tomorrow morning. He’ll feel better if I tell him that you’re sending his daughter home. Can I tell him that?”

“No, sir. I don’t prescribe my clients’ movements.”

“Very well.” He thought he was going to add something, decided he wasn’t, and headed for the door. I followed him out, for the courtesies of the hall.

Back at the office door, I didn’t enter because Sally was there on the sill. “Do you believe him?” she demanded. From her tone and expression it seemed likely that if I said yes I might get my face scratched, so I took her arm and turned her to escort her to the red leather chair, and darned if she didn’t balk. She wasn’t going to sit where it was still warm from Dan Kalmus. She jerked her arm away, stood at the corner of Wolfe’s desk, and demanded, “Do you believe him?”

“Confound it,” Wolfe snapped, “sit down! My neck isn’t rubber.”

“But if you’re going—”

“Sit down!”

She turned, saw I had moved up a chair, sat, and said, “You said I would have to approve. Well, I don’t. Not under his direction.”

Wolfe regarded her, not with enthusiasm. “He made one excellent suggestion,” he declared. “That I send you home. But if I put you out you probably wouldn’t go home, there’s no telling where you’d go, and I need you. I need you now, and I may need you again at any moment. I neither believe him nor disbelieve him.” He turned. “Archie?”

I was back at my desk. “Pass,” I told him. “If he’s a liar he’s good. If he’s straight Sally’s a goof, and I told her Monday evening that I’m with her all the way, so I’m prejudiced. I pass.”

He grunted. To her, “You heard me. I told him I would have to be satisfied about the direction. What do you want, Miss Blount? Did you hire me to discredit Mr. Kalmus or to clear your father?”

“Why... my father, of course.”

“Then don’t interfere. If there really is an important fact known only to Kalmus and your father I may soon learn what it is, before I commit myself to Kalmus, and then I’ll decide what to do. He has by no means convinced me of his integrity, and I’m going to spend some of your money in an effort to verify or impeach your opinion of him. He is a widower?”

“Yes. His wife died ten years ago.”

“He has children?”

She nodded. “Four. Two sons and two daughters. They’re all married.”

“Do any of them live with him? Or he with them?”

“No. He has an apartment on Thirty-eighth Street in a remodeled house that he owns. When the children got married and left he had it turned into apartments, one to a floor.”

“Does he live alone?”

“Yes. He doesn’t—”

“Yes is enough. Does he have servants? A servant?”

“Not to sleep in. A daily cleaning woman is all. He only eats breakfast—”

“If you please. Have you a key to his apartment?”

Her eyes widened. “Of course not. Why would I have a key?”

“I couldn’t say. I merely ask.” He turned. “Archie. Get Saul and Fred and Orrie. After lunch. Two-thirty if possible.”

I swiveled and got the phone and dialed. Getting them in the middle of the day was doubtful, but Saul had an answering service, Fred had a wife, and for Orrie I had three different numbers, two of which were strictly his affair; and for Wolfe any and all of them would leave a job he happened to be on unless it was really hot.

I was at the phone off and on until lunchtime, and my meal was interrupted twice by call-backs from Fred and Orrie, but I wouldn’t have minded if I had got no meal at all if necessary in order to get a ball rolling, though it did seem that Wolfe was piling it on. If all he had in mind was a tour of Kalmus’s apartment, as was indicated by the questions he had asked Sally, why the platoon? Why not just send me? I had a suspicion and I didn’t care for it. He wanted me around on account of Sally. With me not there to keep an eye on her, she might try to tell Fritz how to cook, or put tacks in Wolfe’s bed, or change the furniture around. If that was it, if having her as a house guest meant that I would be sent on no errand if and when there was one, I was inclined to agree with Yerkes and Kalmus, at a time like this the place for her was home.

Bones were dwelt upon again at lunch, but not Voltaire’s; these had been found in some gorge somewhere in Africa, and they proved that the chief difference between me and the galoots who put them there a million years ago was that I can use a typewriter; I think that was it. The kidneys were fully appreciated, and, as I was chewing my last one, Fritz stepped in after answering the doorbell to say that Mr. Panzer was there. If Sally hadn’t been present he would of course have said Saul. By the time we finished with the salad and coffee Fred and Orrie had also come.

I had told them on the phone that Sally Blount would be present, and, when we entered the office and I introduced them to her, it was interesting, as it always is, to see how true they ran to form. Saul Panzer, five-feet-seven, 140 pounds, with a big nose and flat ears, not a good design for beauty, apparently looked casually in her direction only to be polite, but you could safely give a thousand to one that he had every little detail of her on file for good. Fred Durkin, five-feet-ten, 190 pounds, bald and burly, looked at her, then away, then back at her. He doesn’t know he does that. Ever since the time, years ago, when he fell temporarily for a pretty little trick with ample apples, and his wife caught on, he doesn’t trust himself with females under thirty. Orrie Cather, six-feet-flat, 180 pounds, good design from tip to toe, gave her a straight, honest, inquisitive, and acquisitive eye. He was born with the attitude toward all attractive women that a fisherman has toward all the trout in a stream, and has never seen any reason to change it.

Their three chairs lined up before Wolfe’s desk didn’t leave much space, and the red leather chair had had time to cool off from Kalmus, so Sally took it. Wolfe, after performing as usual with that trio, shaking hands with all of them because he wanted to with Saul, sat, moved his eyes left to right and back again, and spoke. “If it was troublesome for you to arrange to come I should thank you, and I do. I suppose you know what I’m concerned with — Matthew Blount, charged with the murder of Paul Jerin. You have just met his daughter. I won’t describe the situation because for the present I have a single specific assignment for you. You probably know the name of Blount’s lawyer: Daniel Kalmus.”

Nods.

“There is reason to suspect that at some time-prior to Tuesday evening, January thirtieth, he procured some arsenic somewhere; I have no slightest hint of where or how or when, but it was probably not more than a week or two before January thirtieth; it may well have been only a day or two. Note that I said ‘reason to suspect’; that’s all it is. Usually when I ask you to find something I have concluded that it exists; this time it’s not a conclusion, merely a surmise. But you will spare no pains, and if you find it your fees will be doubled. Saul will be in charge and will direct you, but report here to Archie as usual.”

He focused on Saul. “On such an operation you know how to proceed better than I do. I offer no suggestions. Evidence that he actually procured or possessed arsenic in some form would be most satisfactory, but even to establish that he had access to it would help substantially. Make no undue sacrifice to discretion; if he learns of your inquiries no harm will be done, for of course he has already taken all possible precautions. But you will exclude his doctor and his apartment. His doctor, Victor Avery, is his old and intimate friend; I have talked with him; and any approach to him or his office should be discussed with me beforehand. As for his apartment, it will be visited and inspected this evening by Archie, accompanied by Miss Blount. Miss Blount is an excellent source of information regarding his habits, haunts, associates — all about him. Get all you can from her first.” He turned to her. “There are comfortable seats in the front room. If you please?”

She had fists again, her knuckles white. “But I told you... I just don’t believe it...”

“You’re not required to. I neither believe it nor reject it; I’m investigating. That’s what you hired me for.”

“You said I would go to his apartment with Archie. I couldn’t.”

“We’ll consider that later. In talking with Mr. Panzer, Mr. Durkin, and Mr. Cather, you need not disclose any matter which you wish to reserve. Mr. Goodwin will be with you.” He turned. “Have your notebook, Archie.”

I got it, arose, and headed for the door to the front room, and the trio got up and came, but stood aside at the door to let Sally go first. Ops appreciate a chance to be polite, they get so few. As I pulled the door shut a glance at Wolfe showed him reaching for African Genesis. Now that he was hard at work he could read again.