The Final Deduction

11

It’s always possible that people who invite me to the country for a weekend will get a break; there’s a chance that there will be a development that will keep me in town, and they will neither have to put me up nor put up with me. The lucky ones that last weekend in April were a couple in Easthampton who had me booked for Friday evening to Monday morning. I have reported the developments of Friday and Saturday, and Sunday I had to stick around in case a call for reinforcements came from Saul or Fred or Orrie.

Wolfe’s routine for Sunday is different. Theodore Horstmann, the orchid nurse, has the day off and goes to visit his married sister in Jersey, so there are no regular two-hour sessions in the plant rooms. Wolfe goes up once or twice to look around and do whatever chores the situation and the weather require, but there is no strict schedule. Usually he is down in the office by ten-thirty, at least the Sundays I am there, to settle down with the review-of-the-week section of the Sunday Times, which he goes right through.

From nine o’clock on that Sunday morning I was half expecting a call from Noel Tedder to tell me that he had issued his Declaration of Independence, one hero to another, but it hadn’t come by the time I turned on the radio for the ten-o’clock news. Nor had there been any word from any of the tailers, but I was soon to know where Saul Panzer was. As I was turning the radio off the doorbell rang, and I went to the hall and saw Andrew Frost So Saul was near enough to see the door opening, no matter how Frost had got there. I swung the door wide and said good morning.

It may be cheesy writing to say that Frost’s expression and tone were frosty as he said he wanted to see Nero Wolfe, but it’s good reporting. They were. It was possible that a factor was the probability that he would have to miss church, since he was dressed for it in a custom-made charcoal-gray top-coat and a forty-dollar homburg to match. I allowed him to enter, took the hat and coat, ushered him to the office, and buzzed the plant rooms on the house phone. When Wolfe’s voice came, his usual testy “Yes?” and I told him Mr. Andrew Frost had come and had been admitted, he snapped, “Ten minutes,” and hung up. When I told Frost he made a frosty little noise and gave me a frosty look. He didn’t seem to look as much like Abraham Lincoln as he had Wednesday afternoon, but that may have been because I had never seen a picture of Lincoln simmering.

It was nearer fifteen minutes than ten when the sound came of the elevator, and Wolfe entered, a spray of Miltonia roezli in his left hand and the Sunday Times under his right arm. He takes his copy of the Times with him to the plant rooms so he won’t have to stop off at his room on the way down to the office. Labor-saving device. He stopped at the corner of his desk to face the caller, said, “Mr. Frost? How do you do. I was expecting you,” then put the flowers in the vase and the Times on the desk, and circled around to his chair.

Frost said distinctly, “You were not expecting me.”

“But I was.” Wolfe, seated, regarded him. “I invited you. I told Mr. Purcell that Mr. Vail was murdered, knowing that that would almost certainly bring you. I wished to see everyone who had been at that gathering Wednesday evening. You came, naturally, to remonstrate. Go ahead.”

A muscle at the side of the lawyer’s neck was twitching. “Are you saying,” he demanded, “that you uttered that slander, knowing it was false, merely to coerce me to come here so you could see me?”

A corner of Wolfe’s mouth went up a sixteenth of an inch. “That’s quite a question. I uttered no slander, because what I said was true. I haven’t coerced you; you are under no constraint; if you don’t want to be here, go. Has Mr. Purcell told you what led me to the conclusion that Mr. Vail was murdered?”

“Yes. It’s pure sophistry. The police and the District Attorney haven’t formed that conclusion. It’s false, fallacious, and defamatory, and it’s actionable.”

“Has the District Attorney made his final deduction and closed the inquiry?”

“Formally, no.”

“Even if he does, that won’t prove me wrong. He needs evidence that will convince a jury; I don’t. I merely—”

“You’ll need evidence if you persist in this slander and are made to answer for it.”

“I doubt if I’ll have to meet that contingency. I merely needed a starting point for a job I have undertaken, and I got it — my conclusion that Mr. Vail was murdered. I have no—”

“You have no job. You mean that fantastic scheme with Noel Tedder. That’s off.”

Wolfe turned his head. “Archie. That paper?”

I hadn’t opened the safe, so I had to work the combination. I did so and got the paper from the shelf where I had put it before going up to bed. As I approached with it, Wolfe told me to give it to Frost. He took it, ran his eyes over it, and then read it word by word. When he looked up, Wolfe spoke.

“I’m not a counselor-at-law, Mr. Frost, but I have some knowledge of the validity of contracts. I’m confident that that paper binds Mrs. Vail as well as Mr. Tedder.”

“When did he sign it?”

“Yesterday evening.”

“It won’t stand. He was tricked into signing it.”

Wolfe turned. “Archie?”

“No tricks,” I told Frost. “Ask him. He’s fed up and wants to stand on his own two feet. I bought him three little drinks, but he was perfectly sober. There were witnesses.”

“Witnesses where?”

“Barney’s bar and grill, Seventy-eighth and Madison.” I was still there by him, and I put out a hand. “May I have it, please?”

He took another look at it and handed it over. I went to the safe and put it back on the shelf and swung the door shut.

Wolfe was speaking. “I was about to say, Mr. Frost, that I have no intention of broadcasting my conclusion that Mr. Vail was murdered, or my reasons for it. I had to tell Mr. Tedder in order to explain my approach to our joint problem, and I told Mr. Purcell because I wanted to see you; he would of course tell his sister, and she would tell you. My purposes have been served. As for the murder, I am not—”

“There was no murder.”

“That’s your conclusion — or your delusion. I’m not bent on disturbing it. I am not a nemesis.”

“Why did you want to see me?”

“When I know that one of a group of people has committed a murder, and possibly two murders, and I need to know which one, I like to look at them and hear them—”

“Then you are persisting in the slander. You’re saying that you intend to identify one of the people there Wednesday evening as a murderer.”

“Only to my satisfaction, for my private purpose. Perhaps my explanation has lost something on its way to you through Mr. Purcell and Mrs. Vail. No. I’m wrong. I explained fully to Mr. Tedder, but not to Mr. Purcell. Having deduced that Mr. Vail was murdered, I made two assumptions: that the murder was consequent to the kidnaping and therefore the murderer had been involved in the kidnaping, and that he or she knows who has the money and where it is or might be. So I needed to identify him and I had to see all of you. I had seen Mrs. Vail. I intend to find that money.”

Frost was shaking his head, his lips compressed. “It’s hard to believe. I know your reputation, but this is incredible. You wanted to see me so that, by looking at me and hearing me, you could decide if I was a kidnaper and a murderer? Preposterous!”

“It does seem a little overweening,” Wolfe conceded, “but I didn’t rely solely on my acumen.” He turned. “Archie, bring Saul.”

That shows you his opinion of Saul. Not “Archie, see if Saul is around.” Frost was Saul’s subject, so, since Frost was here, Saul was in the neighborhood. Of course it was my opinion too. I went to the front door and out to the stoop, descended two steps, stood, and beckoned to Manhattan, that part of it north of 35th Street. A passer-by turned his head to see who I was inviting, saw no one, and went on. I was expecting Saul to appear from behind one of the parked cars across the street, and I didn’t see him until he was out of an area-way and on the sidewalk, on this side, thirty paces toward Tenth Avenue. He had figured that Frost would head west to get an uptown taxi, and undoubtedly he would. Reaching me, he asked, “Was I spotted?”

“You know damn well you weren’t spotted. You’re wanted. We need you for four-handed pinochle.”

He came on up, and we entered and went to the office, Saul in front. Sticking his cap in his pocket, he crossed to Wolfe’s desk with no glance at Frost and said, “Yes, sir?”

Wolfe turned to Frost. “This is Mr. Saul Panzer. He has been making inquiries about you since yesterday morning.” Back to Saul: “Have you anything to add to your report on the phone last evening?”

Presumably after I had left to go to Mrs. Vail. Saul said, “Only one item, from a source I saw after I phoned. Last fall he bought a one-third interest in a new twelve-story apartment house on Eighty-third Street and Park Avenue.”

“Briefly, some of the items you reported yesterday.”

“He’s a senior member of the firm of McDowell, Frost, Hovey, and Ulrich, One-twenty Broadway. Twenty-two names on the letterhead. He was co-chairman of the Committee of New York Lawyers for Nixon. Two years ago he gave his son a house in East Sixty-eighth Street for a wedding present. He’s a director in at least twenty corporations — I don’t think the list I got is complete. He was Harold F. Tedder’s counsel for more than ten years. He has a house on Long Island, near Great Neck, thirty rooms and eleven acres. In nineteen fifty-four President Eisenhower—”

“That’s enough.” Wolfe turned. “As you see, Mr. Frost, I realize that my perspicacity is not infallible. Of course some of Mr. Panzer’s items invite further inquiry — for example, is the estate on Long Island unencumbered? Is there a mortgage?”

Frost was no longer frosty; he was too near boiling. “This is unbelievable,” he declared. He was close to sputtering. “You have actually paid this man to collect a dossier on me? To examine the possibility that I’m a kidnaper and murderer? Me?”

Wolfe nodded. “Certainly. You’re a lawyer with wide experience; you know I could exclude no one who was there. Mr. Panzer is discreet and extremely competent; I’m sure he—”

The doorbell rang. I got up and went to the hall for a look, returned to my desk, scribbled “Cramer” on the scratch pad, tore off the sheet, and handed it to Wolfe. He glanced at it, closed his eyes, opened them in three seconds, and turned to Frost.

“Inspector Cramer of the police is at the door. If you would prefer not to—”

Frost’s wires snapped. He jerked forward, his eyes blazing. “Damn you! Damn you! You phoned him!”

“I did not,” Wolfe snapped. “He is uninvited and unexpected. I don’t know why he’s here. He deals only with death by violence. If he has heard of my conclusion that Mr. Vail was murdered, I don’t know when or from whom. Not from Mr. Goodwin or me.” The doorbell rang. “Do you want him to know you are here?”

“You’re a liar! You’re to blame—”

“Enough!” Wolfe hit the desk. “The situation is precisely as I have described it. Archie, admit Mr. Cramer. Do you want him to see you or not? Yes or no.”

“No,” Frost said, and left the chair. Wolfe told Saul to take him to the front room, and when Saul had gone to the connecting door and opened it, and Frost was moving, I went to admit the law. From the expression on Cramer’s face I expected him to march on by to the office, but when I turned after shutting the door, he was there facing me.

“What were you doing with Noel Tedder last night?” he demanded.

“Don’t snap my head off,” I said. “I’d rather tell you before a witness. Mr. Wolfe will do.” I walked to the office, entered, and told Wolfe, “He wants to know what I was doing with Noel Tedder last night. He didn’t say please.”

Cramer was at my elbow. “The day I say please to you,” he growled, and went to the red leather chair, sat, and put his hat on the stand.

“I suppose,” Wolfe said, “it’s futile to complain. You have been a policeman so long, and have asked so many people so many impertinent questions, and so frequently have got answers to them, that it has become spontaneous. Have you any ground at all for expecting Mr. Goodwin to answer that one?”

“We might arrange a deal,” I suggested. “I’ll ask an impertinent question. Why have you got a tail on Noel Tedder if Jimmy Vail’s death was an accident?”

“We haven’t got a tail on him.”

“Then how did you know he was with me?”

“A detective happened to see you with him on the street and followed you.” Cramer turned to Wolfe. “Day before yesterday you refused to tell me where you and Goodwin had been for twenty-four hours. You said you had no further commitment to Mrs. Vail and you had no client. You repeated that in your signed statement. You did not repeat it to Draper of the FBI when he asked you last night. Your answer was evasive. That’s not like you. I have never known you to hedge on a lie. Now this, Goodwin with Noel Tedder. You’re not going to tell me that was just social. Are you?”

“No.”

“Goodwin?”

“No.”

“Then what was it?”

Wolfe shook his head. “You have a right to expect answers only to questions that are relevant to a crime. What crime are you investigating?”

“That’s typical. That’s you. I’m investigating the possibility that Jimmy Vail didn’t die by accident.”

“Then you aren’t satisfied that he did.”

“Satisfied, no. The District Attorney may be, I don’t know, you can ask him. I say I have a right to expect Goodwin to answer that question. Or you.”

Wolfe tilted his chair back, then his head, pursed his lips, and examined the ceiling. Cramer took a cigar from a pocket, rolled it between his palms, which was silly with a cigar that wasn’t going to be lit, held it at an angle with his thumb and forefinger, frowning at it, and returned it to his pocket. Evidently he had asked it an impertinent question and it has refused to answer. Wolfe let his chair come forward and said, “The paper, Archie.” I went to the safe and got it from the shelf and took it to him. He put it on his desk pad and turned to Cramer.

“I think you have the notion that I have withheld information from you on various occasions just to be contrary. I haven’t. I have reserved details only when I wanted them, at least temporarily, for my exclusive use, or when you have been excessively offensive. Today you have been reasonably civil, though of course not affable; imparting it will not make it less useful to me; and if it furthers your investigation, though I confess I don’t see how it can, it will serve a double purpose.” He picked up the paper. “I’ll read it. I won’t hand it to you because you would probably say it may be needed as evidence, which would be absurd, and pocket it.”

He read it, ending, “Signed by Noel Tedder. It isn’t holograph; Mr. Goodwin wrote it. I answered that question by Mr. Draper ambiguously because if I had told him of my agreement with Mr. Tedder he would have kept me up all night, thinking that I had some knowledge, at least an inkling, of where the money might be found. I have no commitment to Mrs. Vail, but I do have a client: Noel Tedder.”

“Yeah.” It came out hoarse, and Cramer cleared his throat. He always gets a little hoarse when he talks with Wolfe, probably a certain word or words sticking in his throat. “And either you have some idea where the money is or this is a cover for something else. Does Mrs. Vail know about that agreement?”

“Yes.”

“And that’s what Goodwin and Tedder were discussing last night?”

“Yes.”

“What else were they discussing?”

Wolfe turned. “Archie?”

I shook my head. “Nothing. We touched on mothers some, his and mine, but that was in connection with the agreement.”

“So your question is answered,” Wolfe told him. “I’m aware that you’ll pass it on to Mr. Draper, but he isn’t here, and if he comes he won’t get in. We have given him all the information we possess about the kidnaping, with no reservations. I do have an idea where the money is, but it is based—”

“By God, you admit it.”

“I state it. It’s based on deductions and assumptions I have made, not on any evidence I’m withholding. That applies not only to the kidnaping and the whereabouts of the money, but also to the death of Mr. Vail. What would you say if I told you that I’m convinced that he was murdered, with premeditation, and that I think I know, I’m all but certain that I know, who killed him and why?”

“I’d say you were grandstanding. It wouldn’t be the first time. I know you. God, do I know you! When you’ve really got something you don’t say you’re convinced and you’re all but certain. You say you know. If you’ve got any evidence that he was murdered and that points to the murderer, I want it, and I want it now. Have you got any?”

“No.”

“Then I’ll leave you to your deductions and assumptions.” He picked up his hat. “You’re damn right I’ll tell Draper.” He rose. “But if he knew you as well as I do— Oh, nuts.” He turned and marched out.

I stepped to the hall and saw him close the front door behind him, stepped back in, and asked Wolfe, “So you’re all but certain? Do you know what ‘grandstanding’ means. Where did you get the idea—”

“Get Saul.”

He snapped it. I went and opened the door to the front room and told Saul to come. As he entered, Wolfe spoke. “Mr. Frost has gone?”

Saul nodded. “He bent his ear for five minutes trying to hear you, found that he couldn’t on account of the sound-proofing, and left.”

“I want Fred. If Mr. Purcell is at home, he will of course be nearby. Bring him as soon as possible.” His eyes came to me. “Archie, I want Mr. Tedder, and Orrie with him. Also as soon as possible. Don’t stop to tell Fritz about the door. I’ll see that it’s bolted.”

“You want me back,” Saul said.

“Yes. Go.”

We went.