Three at Wolfe's Door

"I was. My husband knew her, of course, but you couldn't say they were friends."

"Were they enemies?"

"Oh, no. It was just that they didn't hit it off."

"When did you see her last?"

"Four days ago, last Friday, at a cocktail party at Waldo Reams' house. I was thinking about it when you came. She was so gay. She was a gay person."

"You hadn't seen her since?"

"No." She was going to add something, but checked it.

It was so obvious that I asked, "But you had heard from her? A letter or a phone call?"

"How did you know that?" she demanded.

"I didn't. Most detective work is guessing. Was it a letter?"

"No." She hesitated. "I would like to help, Mr. Goodwin, but I doubt if it's important, and I certainly don't want any notoriety."

"Of course not, Mrs. Irving." I was sympathetic. "If you mean, if you tell me something will I tell the police, absolutely not. They have arrested my client."

'Well." She crossed her legs, glancing down to see that nothing was revealed. "I phoned Phoebe yesterday afternoon. My husband and I had tickets for the theater last evening, but about three o'clock he phoned me that a business associate from the West Coast had arrived unexpectedly, and he had to take him to dinner. So I phoned Phoebe and we arranged to meet at Morsini's at a

Method Three for Murder 95

quarter to seven for dinner and then go to the theater. I was there on time, but she didn't come. At a quarter past seven I called her number, but there was no answer. I don't like to eat alone at a place like Morsini's, so I waited a little longer and then left word for her and went to Schrafft's. She didn't come. I thought she might come to the theater, the Majestic, and I waited in the lobby until after nine, and then I left a ticket for her at the box office and went in. I would tell the police about it if I thought it was important, but it doesn't really tell anything except that she was at home when I phoned around three o'clock. Does it?"

"Sure it does. Did she agree definitely to meet you at Morsini's or was it tentative?"

"It was definite. Quite definite."

"Then it was certainly something that happened after three o'clock that kept her from meeting you. It was probably something that happened after six-thirty or she would have phoned you--if she was still alive. Have you any idea at all what it might have been?"

"None whatever. I can't guess."

"Have you any ideas about who might have killed her?"

"No. I can't guess that either."

"Do you think Mira Holt killed her?"

"Good heavens, no. Not Mira. Even if she had--"

"Even if she had what?"

"Nothing. Mira wouldn't kill anybody. They don't think that, do they?"

Over the years at least a thousand people have asked me what the police think, and I appreciate the compliment though I rarely deserve it. Life would be much simpler if I always knew what the police think at any given moment. It's hard enough to know what I think. After another ten minutes with her I decided that I thought that Mrs. Irving had nothing more to contribute, so I thanked her and departed. She came with me to the hall, and even picked up my hat from the chair where I had dropped it. I had yet to get a glimpse of her legs.

It was ten minutes to ten when I emerged to the sidewalk and turned left for Lexington Avenue and the subway, and a quarter

96

3 at Wolfe's Door

past when I entered the marble lobby of a towering beehive on Wall Street and consulted the building directory. Gilbert Irving's firm had the whole thirtieth floor, and I found the proper bank of elevators, entered one, and was hoisted straight up three hundred feet for nothing. In a paneled chamber with a thick conservative carpet a handsome conservative creature at a desk bigger than Wolfe's told me in a voice like silk that Mr. Irving was not in and that she knew not when he would arrive or where he was. If I cared to wait?

I didn't. I left, got myself dropped back down the three hundred feet, and went to another subway, this time the west side; and, leaving at Christopher, walked to Ferrell Street and on to its dead end and through the alley. Morton, still at work in the garden, greeted me with reserve but not coldly, said Kearns had not returned and there had been no word from him, and, as I was turning to go, suddenly stood up and asked, "Did you say you wanted to lyuy a picture?"

I said that was my idea but naturally I wanted to see it first, left him wagging his head, walked the length of Ferrell Street the fourth time that day, found a taxi, and gave the driver the address which might or might not still be mine. As we turned into 3jth Street from Eighth Avenue, at five minutes past eleven, there was another taxi just ahead of us, and it stopped at the curb in front of the brownstone. I handed my driver a bill, hopped out, and had mounted the stoop by the time the man from the other cab had crossed the sidewalk. I had never seen him or a picture of him, or heard him described, but I knew him. I don't know whether it was his floppy black hat or shoestring tie, or neat little ears or face like a squirrel, but I knew him. I had the door open when he reached the stoop.

"I would like to see Mr. Nero Wolfe," he said. "I'm Waldo Kearns."

Method Three for Murder

97

VII

Since Wolfe had suggested that I should bring Kearns there so we could look at him together, I would just as soon have let him think that I had filled the order, but of course that wouldn't do. So when, having taken the floppy black hat and put it on the shelf in the hall, I escorted him to the office and pronounced his name, I added, "I met Mr. Keams out front. He arrived just as I did."

Wolfe, behind his desk, had been pouring beer when we entered. He put the bottle down. "Then you haven't talked with him?" .

"No, sir."

He turned to Keams, in the red leather chair. "Will you have beer, sir?"

"Heavens, no." Kearns was emphatic. "I didn't come for amenities. My business is urgent. I am extremely displeased with the counsel you have given my wife. You must have hypnotized her. She refuses to see me. She refuses to accept the services of my lawyer, even to arrange bail for her. I demand an explanation. I intend to hold you to account for alienating the affection of my wife."

"Affections," Wolfe said.

"What?"

"Affections. In that context the plural is used." He lifted the glass and drank, and licked his lips.

Kearns stared at him. "I didn't come here," he said, "to have my grammar corrected."

"Not grammar. Diction."

Kearns pounded the chair arm. "What have you to say?"

"It would be futile for me to say anything whatever until you have regained your senses, if you have any. If you think your wife had affection for you until she met me twelve hours ago, you're an

98 3 at Wolfe's Door

ass. If you know she hadn't your threat is fatuous. In either case what can you expect but contempt?"

"I expect an explanation! I expect the truth! I expect you to tell me why my wife refuses to see me!"

"I can't tell you what I don't know. I don't even know that she has, since in your present state I question the accuracy of your reporting. When and where did she refuse?"

"This morning. Just now, in the District Attorney's office. She won't even talk to my lawyer. She told him she was waiting to hear from you and Goodwin." His head jerked to me. "You're Goodwin?"

I admitted it. His head jerked back. "It's humiliating! It's degrading! My wife under arrest! Mrs. Waldo Kearns in jail! Dishonor to my name and to me! And you're to blame!"

Wolfe took a breath. "I doubt if it's worth the trouble," he said, "but I'm willing to try. I presume what you're after is an account of our conversation with your wife last evening. I might consider supplying it, but first I would have to be satisfied of your bona fides. Will you answer some questions?"

"It depends on what they are."

"Probably you have already answered them, to the police. Has your wife wanted a divorce and have you refused to consent?"

"Yes. I regard the marriage contract as a sacred covenant."

"Have you refused to discuss it with her in recent months?"

"The police didn't ask me that."

"I ask it. I need to establish not only your loona fides, Mr. Kearns, but also your wife's. It shouldn't embarrass you to answer that."

"It doesn't embarrass me. You can't embarrass me. It would have been useless to discuss it with her since I wouldn't consider it."

"So you wouldn't see her?"

"Naturally. That was all she would talk about."

"Have you been contributing to her support since sherleft you?"

"She didn't leave me. We agreed to try living separately. She wouldn't let me contribute to her support. I offered to. I wanted to."

"The police certainly asked you if you killed Phoebe Arden. Did you?"

"No. Why in God's name would I kill her?"

Method Three for Murder 99

"I don't know. Miss Judith Bram suggested that she may have had a bad cold and you were afraid you would catch it, but that ' | seems farfetched. By the way--" | "Judy? Judy Bram said that? I don't believe it!" I "But she did. In this room last evening, in the chair you now f; occupy. She also called you a sophisticated ape." 1 ;. "You're lying!"

"No. I'm not above lying, or below it, but the truth will do now. I Also"

' "You're lying. You've never, seen Judy Bram. You're merely repeating something my wife said."

( "That's interesting, Mr. Kearns, and even suggestive. You are

willing to believe that your wife called you a sophisticated ape,

i but not that Miss Bram did. When I do lie I try not to be clumsy.

Miss Bram was here last evening, with Mr. Goodwin and me, for

half an hour or more; and that brings me to a ticklish point. I must

ask you about a detail that the police don't know about. Certainly

they asked about your movements last evening, but they didn't

know that you had arranged with Judith Bram to call for you in

> her cab at eight o'clock. Unless you told them?"

Kearns sat still, and for him it is worth mentioning. With many people sitting still is nothing remarkable, but with him it was. His sitting, like his face, reminded me of a squirrel; he kept moving or twitching something--a hand, a shoulder, a foot, even his head. Now he was motionless all over. "Say that again," he commanded.

Wolfe obeyed. "Have you told the police that you had arranged with Miss Bram to call for you in her cab at eight o'clock last evening?"

"No. Why should I tell them something that isn't true?" "You shouldn't, ideally, but people often do. I do occasionally. Howevev'that's irrelevant, since it would have been the truth. Evidently Miss Bram hasn't told the police, but she told me. I mention it to ensure that you'll tell me the truth when you recount your movements last evening." "If she told you that she lied." "Oh, come, Mr. Kearns." Wolfe was disgusted. "It is established

L

TOO 3 at Wolfe's Door

that her cab stood at the mouth of the alley leading to your house for more than half an hour, having come at your bidding. If you omitted that detail in your statement to the police I may have to supply it. Haven't you spoken with Miss Bram since?"

"No." He was still motionless. "Her phone doesn't answer. She's not at home. I went there." He passed his tongue across his lower lip. I admit I have never seen a squirrel do that. "I couldn't tell the police her cab was there last evening because I didn't know it was. I wasn't there."

"Where were you? Consider that I know you had ordered the cab for eight o'clock and hadn't canceled the order."

"I've told the police where I was."

"Then your memory has been jogged."

"It didn't need jogging. I was at the studio of a man named Prosch, Carl Prosch. I went there to meet Miss Arden and look at a picture she was going to buy. I got there at a quarter to eight and left at nine o'clock. She hadn't come, and--"

"If you please. Miss Phoebe Arden?"

"Yes. She phoned me at half past seven and said she had about decided to buy a painting, a still life, from Prosch, and was going to his studio to look at it again, and asked me to meet her there to help her decide. I was a little surprised because she knows what I think of daubers like Prosch, but I said I would go. His studio is on Carmine Street, in walking distance from my house, and I walked. She hadn't arrived, and I had only been there two or three minutes when she phoned and asked to speak to me. She said she had been delayed and would get there as soon as she could, and asked me to wait for her. My thought was that I would wait until midnight rather than have her buy a still life by Prosch, but I didn't say so. I didn't wait until midnight, but I waited until nine o'clock. I discussed painting with Prosch a while, until he became insufferable, and then went down to the street and waited there. She never came. I walked back home."

Wolfe grunted. "Can there be any doubt that it was Miss Arden on the phone? Both times?"

"Not the slightest. I couldn't possibly mistake her voice."

Method Three for Murder 101

"What time was it when you left Mr. Prosch and went down to the street?"

"About half past eight. I told the police I couldn't be exact about that, but I could about when I started home. It was exactly nine o'clock." Reams' hands moved. Back to normal. "Now I'll hear what you have to say."

"In a moment. Miss Bram was to come at eight o'clock. Why didn't you phone her?"

"Because I thought I would be back. Probably a little late, but she would wait. I didn't phone her after Miss Arden phoned that she was delayed because she would be gone."

"Where was she to drive you?"

"To Long Island. A party. What does that matter?" He was himself again. "You talk now, and I want the truth!"

Wolfe picked up his glass, emptied it, and put it down. "Possibly you are entitled to it, Mr. Kearns. Unquestionably a man of your standing would feel keenly the ignominy of having a wife in jail the woman to whom you have given your name, though she doesn't use it. You may know that she came to this house at twenty minutes past nine last evening."

"I know nothing. I told you she won't see me."

"So you did. She arrived just as Mr. Goodwin was leaving the house on an errand and they met on the stoop. No doubt you know that Mr. Goodwin is permanently in my employ as my confidential assistant--permanently, that is, in the sense that neither of us has any present intention of ending it or changing its terms."

Kearns was fidgeting again. I was not. He spoke. "The paper said he had left your employ. It didn't say on account of my wife, but of course it was."

"Bosh." Wolfe's head turned. "Archie?"

"Bosh," I agreed. "The idea of quitting on account of Miss Holt never entered my head."

Kearns hit the chair arm. "Mrs. Kearns!"

"Okay," I conceded. "Mrs. Waldo Kearns."

"So," Wolfe said, "your wife's first contact was with Mr. Good win. They sat on the stoop and talked. You know, of course, that

io2 3 "* Wolfe's Door

Miss Dram's cab was there at the curb with Miss Arden's body in it."

"Yes. What did my wife say?"

"I'll come to that. Police came along in a car and discovered the body, and reported it, and soon there was an army. A policeman named Cramer talked with Mr. Goodwin and your wife, I went to the door and invited them to enter--not Mr. Cramer--and they did so. We talked for half an hour or so, when Mr. Cramer came with Miss Bram, and they were admitted. Mr. Cramer, annoyed by the loquacity of Miss Bram, and wishing to speak with your wife privately, took her away. You demanded the truth, sir, and you have it. I add one item, also true: since your wife had engaged Mr. Good win's services, and through him mine also, what she told us was confidential and can't be divulged. Now for--"

Kearns bounced out of the chair, and as he did so the doorbell rang. Since a man who might have stuck a knife in a woman might be capable of other forms of violence, I was going to leave it to Fritz, but Wolfe shot me a glance and I went to the hall for a look. On the stoop was a tall guy with a bony face and a strong jaw. Behind me Kearns was yapping but had drawn no weapon. I went to the front and opened the door.

"To see Mr. Wolfe," he said. "My name is Gilbert Irving."

The temptation was too strong. Only twelve hours ago I had seen a confrontation backfire for Cramer, when he had brought Judy Bram in to face Mira, but this time the temperament was already in the office, having a fit, and it would be interesting to see the reaction, and possibly helpful. So I told him to come in, took his Homburg and put it on the shelf beside the floppy black number, and steered him to the office.

Kearns was still on his feet yapping, but when Wolfe's eyes left him to direct a scowl at me he turned his head. I ignored the scowl. I had disregarded another rule by bringing in a visitor without consulting Wolfe, but as far as I was concerned Mira was still my client and it was my case. I merely pronounced names. "Mr. Gilbert Irving. Mr. Wolfe."

The reaction was interesting enough, though not helpful, since

Method Three for Murder 103

it was no news that Kearns and living were not pals. Perhaps Kearns didn't actually spit at him hecause it could have been merely that moisture came out with his snort. Two words followed immediately. "You bastard!"

living must have had lessons or practice, or both. His uppercut, with his right, was swift and sure, and had power. It caught Kearns right on the button and sent him straight up a good six inches before he swayed against the corner of Wolfe's desk.

vm

To do him justice, Kearns handled it as well as could be expected, even better. He surprised me. He didn't utter a peep. The desk saved him from going down. He stayed propped against it for three seconds, straightened with his hand on it for support, moved his head backward and forward twice, decided his neck was still together, and moved. His first few steps were wobbly, but*by the time he reached the door to the hall they were steadier, and he made the turn okay. I went to the hall and stood, as he got his hat from the shelf and let himself out, pulling the door shut without banging it, and re-entered the office as Irving was saying, "I should beg your pardon. I do. I'm sorry."

"You were provoked," Wolfe told him. He gestured at the red leather chair. "Be seated."

"Hold it." I was there. "I guess I should beg your pardon, Mr. Irving, for not telling you he was here, and now I must beg it again. I have to tell Mr. Wolfe something that can't wait. It won't take long." I went and opened the door to the front room. "If you'll step in here."

He didn't like the idea. "My business is pressing," he said.

"So is mine. If you please?"

"Your name is Archie Goodwint1"

"Yes."

He hesitated a second, and then came, and crossed the sill, and

104 3 at Wolfe's Door

1 dosed the door. Since it and the wall were soundproofed, I didn't have to lower my voice to tell Wolfe, "I want to report. I saw his wife."

"Indeed. Will a summary do?"

"No." I sat. "It will for one detail, that eighty feet from where the cab was parked there is a stoneyard that would be perfect cover, you couldn't ask for better, but you must have my talk with Mrs. Irving verbatim."

"Go ahead."

I did so, starting with a description of her. It had been years since he had first told me that when I described a man he must see him and hear him, and I had learned the trick long ago. I also knew how to report conversations word for word--much longer ones than the little chat I had had with Mrs. Irving.

When I had finished he asked one question. 'Was she lying?"

"I wouldn't bet either way. If so she is good. If it was a mixture I'd hate to have to sort it out."

"Very well." He closed his eyes. In a moment they opened. "Bring him."

I went and opened the door to the front room and told him to come, and he entered, crossed to the red leather chair, sat, and aimed his eyes at Wolfe. "I should explain," he said, "that I am here as a friend of Miss Mira Holt, but she didn't send me."

Wolfe nodded. "She mentioned your name last evening. She said you are an intelligent man."

"I'm afraid she flatters me." Evidently it was normal for him to sit still. "I have come to you for information, but I can't pretend I have any special right to it. I can only tell you why I want it When I learned on the radio this morning that Miss Holt was in custody I started downtown to see her, to offer my help, but on the way I decided that it wouldn't be advisable because it might be misconstrued, since I am merely a friend. So I called on my lawyer instead. His name is John H. Darby. I explained the situation and asked him to see Miss Holt, and he arranged to see her and has talked with her, but she won't tell him anything. She even refused to authorize him to arrange bail for her. She says that Archie Good fe;

win and Nero Wolfe are representing her, and she will say nothing and do nothing without their advice." y I touched my lips with a fingertip, the lips that Mira had kissed. I was blowing the kiss back to her. Not only had she put my name first, but also she had improved on my suggestion by combining method three and method one. She was a client in a thousand. She had even turned down two offers to spring her.

Tin not a lawyer," Wolfe said, "and neither is Mr. Goodwin."

Tm aware of that. But you seem to have hypnotized Miss Holt. With no offense intended, I must ask, are you acting in her interest or in Waldo Reams'?"

Wolfe grunted. "Hers. She hired us."

I put in, "You and Kearns agree. He thinks we hypnotized her too. Nuts."

He regarded me. "I prefer to deal with Mr. Wolfe. This is his office."

"You're dealing with both of us," Wolfe told him. "Professionally we are indiscrete. What information do you want?"

"I want to know why you are taking no steps to get her released and what action you intend to take in her interest. I also want you to advise her to accept the services of my lawyer. He is highly" qualified."

Wolfe rested his palms on the chair arms. "You should know better, Mr. Irving; you're a man of affairs. Before I gave you an inch, let alone the mile you ask for, I would have to be satisfied that your interest runs with hers."

"Damn it, I'm her friend! Didn't she say I am? You said she mentioned me."

"She could be mistaken." Wolfe shook his head. "No. For instance, I don't even know what you have told the police."

"Nothing. They haven't asked me anything. Why should they?"

"Then you haven't told them that Miss Holt told you on the phone Sunday evening that she was going to drive Judith Bram's cab?"

It got him. He stared. He looked at me and back at Wolfe. "No," he said. "Even if she had, would I tell the police?"

KMethod Three for Murder 105

io6 3 at Wolfe's Door

"Do you -deny that she did?" "I neither" deny it nor affirm it."

Wolfe upturned a palm. "How the devil can you expect cando from me? D<9 you want me to suspect that Miss Holt lied when <&* told us of that phone call?" e "When did she tell you?" "Last everwng. Here. Not under hypnosis." He considered. "All right. She told me that." "And whcfni did you tell?" "No one." "You're certain?" "Of course? I'm certain."

"Then it v^on't be easy to satisfy me. Assuming that Miss Holt fulfilled her Intention and took the cab, and arrived with it at Mr. Reams' address at eight o'clock, and combining that assumption with the fact that at twenty minutes past nine the cab was standing in front of my house with a dead body in it, where are you? Miss Bram states that she told no one of the arrangement. Miss Holt states that she told no one but you. Is it any wonder that I ask where you ar^? And, specifically, where you were last evening from eight o'clock on?"

"I see." Irving took a breath, and another. "It's utterly preposterous. You actually suspect me of being involved in the murder of Phoebe Aider*-" "I do indeed."

"But it's preposterous! I had no concern whatever with Miss Arden. She meant nothing to me. Not only that, apparently whoever killed her managed to get Miss Holt involved--either managed it or pemiittect it. Would I do that?" He made his hands fists and raised them, s-took them. "Damn it, I have to know what happened! You kriow. Miss Holt told you. I have to know!"

"There are things I have to know," Wolfe said drily. "I mentioned one: yc*ur movements last evening. We have it from your wife, but I prefer it from you. That's the rule, and a good one: get the best available evidence."

Irving was staring again. "My wife? You have seen my wife?" "Mr. GoodWin has. He called at your home this morning to see

Method Three for Murder 107

[ you had gone. Your wife wished to be helpful. You know,

what she told him."

[ she tell him--" He stopped and started over. "Did she tell at a phone call she made yesterday afternoon?" nodded. "And one she received. She received one from ad made one to Miss Arden."

inclined his head forward to look at his right hand. Its i bent, slowly, to make a fist. Apparently something about Operation was unsatisfactory, for he repeated it several times, at it At length his head came up. "My lawyer wouldn't ijfbis," he said, "but I'm going to tell you something. I have to ct you to tell me anything. If I told you what I told my you would check it, and it won't check. I know Miss Holt Yjudy Bram's cab there last evening. I know she got there at nutes to eight and left at ten minutes to nine. I saw her." I. Where were you?"

in a cab parked on Carmine Street, around the corner (Ferrell Street. I suppose you know what her purpose was in ; Judy's cab?"

, To talk with her husband." I had tried to persuade her not to. Did she tell you that?"

a't like it. There isn't much that Kearns isn't capable of. I K mean violence; just some trick like getting her out of the cab I going off with it. I decided to be there, and I phoned my wife |;I would have to spend the evening with a business associate. I afraid if I took my car Miss Holt might recognize it, so I got jti with a driver I know. Carmine Street is one-way, and we 1 where we would be ready to follow when she came out of 1 Street. We were there when she arrived, at five minutes to When she came back, nearly an hour later, she was alone, i was no one in the cab. I supposed Kearns had refused to let !;drive him, and I was glad of it."

:then?"

i went to my club. If you want to check I'll give you the cab rs name and address. I rang Judy Bram's number, and I rang ' Holt s number three or four times, but there was no answer.

io8

3 at Wolfe's Door

I supposed they were out somewhere together. And this morning I heard the radio and saw the paper." He breathed. "I hope to heaven I won't have to regret telling you this. If it contradicts anything she told you she's right and I'm wrong. I could be lying, you know, for my own protection."

I was thinking, if so you're an expert.

Wolfe's eyes, at him, were half closed. "It was dark. How could you know there was no one in the cab?"

"There's a light at that corner. I have good eyes and so has the driver. She was going slow, for the turn."

"You didn't follow her?"

"No. There was no point in following her if Kearns wasn't with her."

"What would you say if I told you that Miss Holt saw you in your parked taxi as she drove by?"

"I wouldn't believe it. When she drove by arriving I was flat on the seat. It was dark but I didn't risk her seeing me. When she left she didn't drive by. Carmine Street is one-way."

Wolfe leaned back and shut his eyes, and his lips began to work Irving started to say something, and I snapped at him, "Hold it." Wolfe pushed his lips out and pulled them in, out and in, out and in. ... He was earning the twenty-five bucks I had paid him. I had no idea how, but when he starts that lip operation the sparks are flying inside his skull.

Irving tried again. "But I want--"

"Hold it."

"But I don't-"

"Shut up!"

He sat regarding me, not warmly.

Wolfe opened his eyes and straightened. "Mr. Irving." He was curt. "You will get what you came here for, but not forthwith. Possibly within the hour, probably somewhat later. Tell me where I can reach you, or you may--"

"Damn it, no! I want--"

"If you please. Confound it, I've been yelped at enough today. Or you may wait here. That room has comfortable chairs--or one at least. Mr. Goodwin and I have work to do."

Method Three for Murder 109

"I don't intend-"

'Tour intentions have no interest or point. Where can we reach you?"

Irving looked at me and saw nothing hopeful. He arose. Til wait here," he said, and headed for the front room.

rx

Having turned my head to see that Irving shut the door, I turned it hack again. "Fine," I said. "We're going to work."

"I'm a dunce," he said. "So are you."

"It's possible," I conceded. "Can you prove it?"

"It's manifest. Why did that policeman stop his car to look inside that cah?"

"Cops do. That's what a prowl car is for. They saw it parked with the hackie gone, and while that's nothing strange they thought it was worth a look. Also it was parked in front of your house. He knew it was your house. He said so."

"Nevertheless, we are dunces not to have questioned it. I want to know if that policeman had been prompted. At once."

"It's a point," I admitted. "The papers haven't mentioned it. I doubt if Cramer would--"

"No."

"I could try Lon Cohen."

"Do so."

I swiveled and dialed the Gazette number, and got Lon. Wolfe lifted his receiver to listen in. I told Lon I wanted something for nothing. He said I always did and usually got it, but if what I was after this time was an ad under "Situations Wanted" I would have to pay.

"That was just a dirty rumor," I said. "I am permanently in Mr. Wolfe's employ--permanently, that is, in the sense that I may still be here tomorrow. On our present job we're shy a detail. If you'll supply it I'll give you something for the front page if and when. We don't know whether the cop who stopped to uncover Phoebe

no

3 at Wolfe's Door

Arden's body in the taxi had been steered or was just nosy. Do you?"

"Yes, but I'm not supposed to. The DA is saving it. He may release it this afternoon. If he does I'll call you."

"We need it now. Not for publication, and we wouldn't dream of quoting you. We're just curious."

"I'll bet you are. I wish I got paid as much for being curious as Wolfe does. Okay. It was a dialed phone call to Canal six, two thousand. Probably a man, but it could have been a woman trying to sound like a man or the reverse. It said there was a taxi standing in front of nine-eighteen West Thirty-fifth Street with a dead woman in it. As you know, that address has been heard from before. The sergeant radioed a prowl car."

"Has the call been traced?"

"How? Modern improvements. But you'd better ask the DA."

"A good idea. I will. Many thanks and I won't forget the front page." I hung up and swiveled. "I'll be damned. Where can we buy dunce caps? For a passerby to see it he would have had to open the door and lift the canvas."

Wolfe's lips were tight. 'We should have done that hours ago."

"Lon may not have known hours ago."

"True. Even so. Get Mr. Cramer."

I swiveled and dialed. It wasn't as simple as getting Lon Cohen had been. Cramer was in conference and couldn't be disturbed. I was hacking away at it when Wolfe took his phone and said, "This is Nero Wolfe. I have something that will not wait. Ask Mr. Cramer if he prefers that I deal with the District Attorney."

In two minutes there was a bark. "What do you want?"

"Mr. Cramer?" He knew darned well it was.

"Yes. I'm busy."

"So am I. Is it true that Miss Holt refuses to talk without advice from Mr. Goodwin or me?"

"Yes it is, and I was just telling Stebbins to get Goodwin down here. And then I'm going--"

"If you please. Mr. Goodwin and I have decided that it is now desirable for Miss Holt to answer any questions you care to ask--or that it will be after we have had a brief talk with her. Since I must be present and I transact business only in my own office, it will be

Method Three for Murder in

pointless for you to send for him. If you want her to talk hring her here."

"You're too late, Wolfe. I don't need her to tell me that she drove that cab to your address. I already know it. Her prints are on the steering wheel and the door, and other places. You're too late."

"Has she admitted it?"

"No, but she will."

"I doubt it. She's rather inflexible. I regret having called you to the phone to no purpose. May I make a request? Don't keep Mr. Goodwin longer than necessary. I am about to conclude a matter in which he has an interest and would like him present. I wanted Miss Holt here too, but since I'm too late I'll have to manage without her."

Silence. Prolonged.

"Are you there, Mr. Cramer?"

"Yes. So you're going to conclude a matter."

"I am. Soon afterwards Miss Holt and Mr. Goodwin and I will talk not by your sufferance but at our will."

"Are you saying that you know who killed Phoebe Arden?"

" 'Know' implies certitude. I have formed a conclusion and intend to verify it. It shouldn't take long. But I'm keeping you. Could you do without Mr. Goodwin until, say, four o'clock? It's half past twelve. By then we should have finished."

Another silence, not quite so long. "I'll be there in fifteen minutes," Cramer said.

"With Miss Holt?"

"Yes."

"Satisfactory. But not in fifteen minutes. I must get Judith Bram and Waldo Kearns. Do you know where they are?"

"Kearns is at his home. He said he would be if we wanted him again. Judith Bram is here. I'll bring her along, and I'll send for Kearns. Now."

"No. People have to eat. Will you lunch with us? And Miss Holt?"

"I will not. Did you ever skip a meal in your life?"

"Many times when I was younger, by necessity. Then I suggest that you arrive with Miss Holt at two o'clock, and arrange for Miss

ii2 3 at Wolfe's Door

Bram and Mr. Kearns to come at two-thirty. Will that be convenient?"

"By God. Convenient!"

A click. He was off. We hung up. I said, "Probably Irving eats too."

"Yes. Bring him."

I went and got him. He marched to Wolfe's desk and demanded, "Well?"

Wolfe's head slanted back. "I forgot, sir, when I said possibly within the hour, that lunch would interfere. It will be a little longer. I have spoken with Inspector Cramer, and he will arrive with Miss Holt at two o'clock. We shall expect you and your wife to join us at two-thirty."

His jaw was working. "Miss Holt will be here?"

"Yes."

"Why my wife?"

"Because she has something to contribute. As you know, she had an appointment with Miss Arden which Miss Arden did not keep. That will be germane."

"Germane to what?"

"To our discussion."

"I don't want a discussion. I certainly don't want one with a police inspector. I told you what I want."

"And you'll get it, sir, but the method and manner are in my discretion. I give you my assurance without qualification that I am acting solely in the interest of Miss Holt, that I expect to free her of any suspicion of complicity in the murder of Phoebe Arden, and that I shall not disclose what you have told me of your movements last evening without your prior permission. Confound it, do I owe you anything?"

"No." His jaw was still working. "I'd rather not bring my wife."

"We'll need her. If you prefer, I'll arrange for Inspector Cramer to send for her."

"No." He breathed. He looked at me and back at Wolfe. "All right. We'll be here." He wheeled and went.

Method Three for Murder

"3

Five of the yellow chairs were in place facing Wolfe's desk, three in front and two behind, and Mira was in the one nearest to Cramer. I had intended the one at my end for her, but Cramer had vetoed it, and since she was his prisoner I hadn't insisted. Of course he was in the red leather chair, and the uninvited guest he had brought along, Sergeant Purley Stebbins, was seated at his right, with his broad, burly shoulders touching the wall.

Mira looked fine, considering. Her eyes were a little heavy and the lids were swollen, and her jacket could have stood washing and ironing, and the corners of her mouth pointed down, but I thought she looked fine. Wolfe, seated behind his desk, was glowering at her, but the glower wasn't meant for her. It was merely that he had had to tell Fritz to advance the lunch hour fifteen minutes, and then had had to hurry through the corn fritters and sausage cakes and wild-thyme honey from Greece and cheese and blackberry pie with not enough time to enjoy it properly.

"Was it bad?" he asked her.

"Not too bad," she said. "I didn't get too much sleep. The worst was when the morning passed and I didn't hear from you." Her head turned. "Or you, Mr. Goodwin."

I nodded. "I was busy earning my fee. I wasn't worried about you because you had promised you wouldn't forget method three."

"I kept my promise."

"I know you did. I'll buy you a drink any time you're thirsty."

"Get on," Cramer growled.

"Have you been told," Wolfe asked her, "that others will join us shortly?"

"No," she said. "Here? Who?"

"Miss Bram, Mr. Kearns, and Mr. and Mrs. Gilbert Irving."

Her eyes widened. "Why Mr. and Mrs. Irving?"

"That will appear after they arrive. I thought you should know that they're coming. They'll soon be here, and we have two points

ii4 3 at Wolfe's Door

to cover. First I need a question answered. When you drove away from Pencil Street last evening, and meandered in search of a place to dispose of the corpse--don't interrupt me--and finally drove here, did you at any time suspect that you were being followed by another car?"

Her mouth was hanging open. "But you--" she stammered. Her head jerked to me. "Did you know he was--what good did it do to keep my promise?"

"A lot," I told her. "Yes, I knew he was. Everything is under control. Believe me, I would rather lose an arm than lose the right to ask you to promise me something. We know what we're doing. Shall I repeat the question?"

"But-"

"No buts. Leave it to us. Shall I repeat the question?"

"Yes."

I did so, omitting the "don't interrupt me."

"No," she said.

"Proceed," Wolfe told me.

I knew it would have been better to have her closer. She was six yards away. "This one is more complicated and more important During that drive, from Ferrell Street to here, are you certain that another car was not following you? There are various ways of making sure of that. Did you use any of them?"

"No. I never thought of that. I was looking for a place--"

"I know you were. All we want is this: if I told you that a car was following you, all the way, what would you say?"

"I would want to know who it was."

I wanted to go and pat her on the head, but it might have been misconstrued. "Okay," I said. "That's one point. The other one is simple. Tell Inspector Cramer what you told us last night, including the phone call to Gilbert Irving to tell him that you were going to drive Judy's cab." I looked at my wrist. "You only have fifteen minutes, so reel it off."

"I won't," she said. "Not until you tell me why you're doing this."

"Then I'll tell him. You'll know why after the others get here. I'll tell you this: someone tried to frame you for murder and this

Method Three for Murder 115

is payday. Anyway there's not much left, now that the inspector knows you drove the cab here with the corpse in it. Would we have spilled that if we didn't have a good hold? Go ahead."

Wolfe put in, "Don't interrupt with questions, Mr. Cramer. They can wait. Yes, Miss Holt?"

She still didn't like it, not a bit, but she delivered, starting with Sunday evening. She left gaps. She didn't say that Judy had given her permission to take the cab, merely that she had taken it, and she didn't mention the phone call to Irving; but since I had already mentioned it that didn't matter. The main thing was what had happened after she got to Ferrell Street with the cab, and she covered that completely; and when she got to where she and I had sat on the stoop and talked, Cramer began cutting in with questions. I will not say that he was more interested in tagging me for obstructing justice than he was in solving a murder case, since I don't like to brag, but it sounded like it. He was firing away at her, and Sergeant Stebbins was scrawling in his notebook, when the doorbell rang and I went to answer it. It was Waldo Kearns. When I took him to the office he went to Mira, without so much as a glance for the three men, and put out a hand.

"My dear wife," he said.

"Don't be ridiculous," Mira said.

I can't report whether he handled that as well as he had handled the uppercut by Irving because the bell rang again and I had to leave them, to admit Judy Bram. She had an escort, a Homicide dick I only knew by sight, and he thought he was going to enter with her and I didn't, and while we were discussing it she slipped in and left it to us. We were still chatting when a taxi stopped out front and Mr. and Mrs. Irving got out and headed for the steps. The dick had to give them room to pass, and I was able to shut the door on him without flattening his nose. Since it was quite possible that Irving's appearance would start something I entered the office on their heels.

Nothing happened. Mira merely shot him a glance and he returned it. Kearns didn't even glance at him. The newcomers stood while Wolfe pronounced their names for Cramer and Stebbins and told them who Cramer and Stebbins were, and then went to the

n6 3 at Wolfe's Door

two chairs still vacant, the two nearest my desk. Mrs. Irving took the one in front, with Judy between her and Mira, and her husband took the one back of her, which put him only a long arm's length from Waldo Kearns.

As Wolfe's eyes moved from right to left, stopping at Mira, and back again, Cramer spoke. "You understand that this is not an official inquiry. Sergeant Stebbins and I are looking on. You also understand that Mira Holt is under arrest as a material witness. If she had been charged with murder she wouldn't be here."

"Why isn't she out on bail?" Judy Bram demanded. "I want to know why--"

"That will do," Wolfe snapped. "You're here to listen, Miss Bram, and if you don't hold your tongue Mr. Goodwin will drag you out. If necessary Mr. Stebbins will help."

"But why-"

"No! One more word and out you go."

She set her teeth on her lip and glared at him. He glared back, decided she was squelched, and left her.

"I am acting," he said, "jointly with Mr. Goodwin, on behalf of Miss Holt. At our persuasion she has just told Mr. Cramer of her movements last evening. I'll sketch them briefly. Shortly after seven-thirty she took Miss Bram's cab and drove it to Ferrell Street and parked at the mouth of the alley leading to Mr. Reams' house. She expected him to appear but he didn't. At eight-thirty she left the cab, went through the alley to the house, knocked several times, and looked in windows. Getting no response, she returned to the cab, having been gone about ten minutes. There was a dead body in the cab, a woman, and she recognized her. It was Phoebe Arden. I will not--"

"You fat fool!" Judy blurted. "You're a fine-"

"Archie!" he commanded.

I stood up. She clamped her teeth on her lip. I sat down.

"I will not," Wolfe said, "go into her thought processes, but confine myself to her actions. She covered the body with a piece of canvas and drove away. Her intention was to dispose of her cargo in some likely spot, and she drove around in search of one, but found none. I omit details--for instance, that she rang the

Method Three for Murder 117

number of Miss Bram from a phone booth and got no answer. She decided she must have counsel, drove to my house, met Mr. Goodwin on the stoop, and gave him a rigmarole about a bet she had made. Since he is vulnerable to the attractions of personable young women, he swallowed it."

I swallowed that. I had to, with Cramer sitting there.

"Now," Wolfe said, "a crucial fact. I learned it myself less than three hours ago. Only a few minutes after Miss Holt and Mr. Good win met on the stoop someone phoned police headquarters to say that a taxi standing in front of this address had a dead woman in it. That is-"

"Where did you get that?" Cramer demanded.

Wolfe snorted. "Pfui. Not from you or Mr. Stebbins. That is proof, to me conclusive, that the murderer of Phoebe Arden had no wish or need for her to die. Phoebe Arden was killed only because her corpse was needed as a tool for the destruction of another person--a design so cold-blooded and malign that even I am impressed. Whether she was killed in the cab, or at a nearby spot and the body taken to the cab, is immaterial. The former is more likely, and I assume it What did the murderer do? He, or she --we lack a neuter pronoun--he entered the cab with Phoebe Arden the moment Miss Holt disappeared in the alley, coming from their hiding place in the stoneyard across the street. Having stabbed his victim--or rather his tool--he walked up Ferrell Street and around the corner to where his car was parked on Carmine Street. Before going to his car he stood near the corner to see if Miss Holt, on returning to the cab, removed the body before driving away. If she had, he would have found a booth and phoned police headquarters immediately."

Cramer growled, "What if Kearns had come out with Miss Holt?"

"He knew he wouldn't. I'll come to that. You are assuming that Kearns was not the murderer."

"I am assuming nothing."

"That's prudent. When Miss Holt turned the cab into Carmine Street and drove on, he followed her. He followed her throughout her search for a place to get rid of the corpse, and on to her final

n8

3 at Wolfe's Door

destination, this house. Some of my particulars are assumption or conjecture, but not this one. He must have done so, for when she stopped here he drove on by, found a phone booth, and made the call to the police. The only other possible source of the call was a passerby who had seen the corpse in the cab as it stood at the curb, and a passerby couldn't have seen it without opening the door and lifting the canvas." His eyes went to Cramer. "Of course that hadn't escaped you."

Cramer grunted.

Wolfe turned a hand over. "If his objective was the death of Phoebe Arden, why didn't he kill her in the stoneyard--they must have been there, since there is no other concealment near--and leave her there? Or if he did kill her there, which is highly unlikely, why did he carry or drag the body to the cab? And why, his objective reached, did he follow the cab in its wanderings and at the first opportunity call the police? I concede the possibility that he had a double objective, to destroy both Miss Arden and Miss Holt, but if so Miss Holt must have been his main target. To kill Miss Arden, once he had her in the stoneyard with a weapon at hand, was simple and involved little risk; to use her body as a tool for the destruction of Miss Holt was a complicated and daring operation, and the risks were great. I am convinced that he had a single objective, to destroy Miss Holt."

"Then why?" Cramer demanded. 'Why didn't he kill her?"

"I can only conjecture, but it is based on logic. Because it was known that he had reason to wish Miss Holt dead, and no matter how ingenious his plan and adroit its execution, he would have been suspected and probably brought to account. I have misstated it. That's what he did. He devised a plan so ingenious that he thought he would be safe."

Purley Stebbins got up, circled around the red leather chair, and stood at Waldo Kearns' elbow.

"No, Mr. Stebbins," Wolfe said. "Our poor substitute for a neuter pronoun is misleading. I'll abandon it. If you want to guard a murderer stand by Mrs. Irving."

Knowing that was coming any second, I had my eye on her. She was only four feet from me. She didn't move a muscle, but

Method Three for Murder 119

her husband did. He put a hand to his forehead and squeezed. I could see his knuckles go white. Mira's eyes stayed fixed on Wolfe, but Judy and Kearns turned to look at Mrs. Irving. Steb bins did too, but he didn't move.

Cramer spoke. "Who is Mrs. Irving?"

"She is present, sir."

"I know she is. Who is she?"

"She is the wife of the man whom Miss Holt called on the phone Sunday evening to tell him that she was going to take Miss Bram's cab, and why. Mr. Irving has stated that he told no one of that call. Either he lied or his wife eavesdropped. Mr. Irving. Might your wife have overheard that conversation on an extension?"

Irving's hand left his forehead. He lowered it slowly until it touched his knee. I had him in profile. A muscle at the side of his neck was twitching. "To say that she might," he said slowly and precisely, as if he only had so many words and didn't want to waste any, "isn't saying that she did. You have made a shocking accusation. I hope--" He stopped, leaving it to anybody's guess what he hoped. He blurted, "Ask her!"

"I shall. Did you, madam?"

"No." Her deep, strong voice needed more breath behind it. "Your accusation is not only shocking, it's absurd. I told Mr. Goodwin what I did last evening. Hasn't he told you?"

"He has. You told him that your husband had been prevented by a business emergency from keeping a dinner and theater engagement with you, and you had phoned Phoebe Arden to go in his stead, and she agreed. When she didn't appear at the restaurant you rang her number and got no answer, and then went to another restaurant to eat alone, presumably one where you are not known and plausibly would not be remembered. After waiting for her at the theater until after nine o'clock you left a ticket for her at the box office and went in to your seat. That sounds impressive, but actually it leaves you free for the period that counts, from half past seven until well after nine o'clock. Incidentally, it was a mistake to volunteer that account of your movements, so detailed and precise. When Mr. Goodwin reported it to me I marked you down as worthy of attention."

I2O

3 at Wolfe's Door

"I wasn't free at all," she said. "I told Mr. Goodwin I wanted to help, and--"

"Don't talk," her husband commanded the back of her head. "Let him talk." To Wolfe: "Unless you're through?"

"By no means. I'll put it directly to you, madam. This is how you really spent those hours. You did phone Phoebe Arden yesterday afternoon, but not to ask her to join you at dinner and the theater. You told her of Miss Holt's plan to drive Miss Bram's cab in an effort to have a talk with her husband, and you proposed a prank. Miss Arden would arrange that Mr. Kearns would fail to appear, and if he didn't, Miss Holt would certainly leave the cab to go to his house to inquire. Whereupon you and Miss Arden, from your concealment in the neighboring stoneyard, would go and enter the cab, and when Miss Holt returned she would find you there, to her discomfiture and even consternation."

"You can't prove any of this," Cramer growled.

"No one ever can, since Miss Arden is dead." Wolfe's eyes didn't leave Mrs. Irving. He went on, "I didn't know Miss Arden, so I can't say whether she agreed to your proposal from mere caprice or from an animus for Miss Holt, but she did agree, and went to her doom. The program went as planned, without a hitch. No doubt Miss Arden herself devised the stratagem by which Mr. Kearns was removed from the scene. But at this point I must confess that my case is not flawless. Certainly you would not have been so witless as to let anyone have a hand in your deadly prank either a cab driver or your private chauffeur. Do you drive a cart1"

"Don't answer," Irving commanded her.

"Yes, she does," Judy Bram said, louder than necessary.

"Thank you, Miss Bram. Apparently you can speak to the point Then you and Miss Arden went in your car, and parked it on Carmine Street--away from the corner in the direction Miss Holt would take when, leaving, she made the turn from Ferrell Street. You walked to the stoneyard and chose your hiding spot, and when Miss Holt left the cab you went and entered it. It is noteworthy that at that point you were committed to nothing but a prank. If Miss Holt had suddenly returned, or if anyone had come close enough to observe, you would merely have abandoned

Method Three for Murder 1-2.1

your true objective--a disappointment, but no disaster. As it was, you struck. I am not a moralizer, but I permit myself the comment that in my experience your performance is without parallel for ruthlessness and savagery. It appears that Miss Arden was not merely no enemy of yours; she was your friend. She must have been, to join with you in your impish prank; but you needed her corpse for a tool to gratify your mortal hatred for Miss Holt. That was--"

"Her hatred for Miss Holt," Cramer said. "You assume that too?"

"No indeed. That is established. Miss Bram. Speaking of Gilbert Irving, you said that when he looks at Miss Holt or hears her voice he has to lean against something to keep from trembling. You didn't specify the emotion that so affects him. Is it repugnance?"

"No. It's love. He wants her."

"Was his wife aware of it?"

"Yes. Lots of people were. You only had to see him look at her."

"That is not true," Irving said. "I am merely Miss Holt's friend, that's all, and I hope she is mine."

Judy's eyes darted at him and returned to Wolfe. "He's only being a husband because he thinks he has to. He's being a gentleman. A gentleman doesn't betray his wife. I was wrong about you. I shouldn't have called you a fat fool. I didn't know--"

Cramer cut in, to Wolfe. "All right, if that isn't established it can be. But it's about all that's established. There's damn little you can prove. Do you expect me to charge a woman with murder on your guess?"

You don't often hear a sergeant disagree with an inspector in public, but Purley Stebbins--no, I used the wrong word. Not hear, see. Purley didn't say a word. All he did was leave his post at Kearns' elbow and circle around Irving to stand beside Mrs. Irving, between her and Judy Bram. Probably it didn't occur to him that he was disagreeing with his superior; he merely didn't like the possibility of Mrs. Irving's getting a knife from her handbag and sticking it in Judy's ribs.

"There's nothing at all I can prove," Wolfe said. "I have merely exposed the naked truth; it is for you, not me, to drape it and arm it with the evidence the law requires. For that you are well

122 3 fl* Wolfe's Door

equipped; surely you need no suggestions from me; but, item, did Mrs. Irving get her car from the garage yesterday evening? What for? If to drive to a restaurant and then to a theater, in itself unlikely, where did she park it? Item, the knife. If she conceived her prank only after her husband phoned to cancel their engagement, which is highly probable, she hadn't time to contrive an elaborate and prudent plan for getting a weapon. She either bought one at a convenient shop, or she took one from her own kitchen; and if the latter her cook or maid will have missed it and can identify it. Her biggest mistake, of course, was leaving the knife in the body, even with the handle wiped clean; but she was in a hurry to leave, she was afraid blood would spurt on her, and she was confident that she would never be suspected of killing her good friend Phoebe Arden. Other items--"

Mrs. Irving was up, and as she arose her husband did too, and grabbed her arm from behind. He wasn't seizing a murderer; he was being a gentleman and stopping his wife from betraying herself. She jerked loose, but then Purley Stebbins had her other arm in his big paw.

"Take it easy," Purley said. "Just take it easy."

Mira's head dropped and her hands came up to cover her face, and she started to shake. Judy Bram put a hand on her shoulder and said, "Go right ahead, Mi, don't mind us. You've got it coming." Waldo Kearns was sitting still, perfectly still. I got up and went to the kitchen, to the extension, and dialed the Gazette number. I thought I ought to be as good at keeping a promise as Mira had been.

XI

Yesterday I drove Mira and Judy to Idlewild, where Mira was to board a plane for Reno. Judy and I had tossed a coin to decide whether the trip would be made in the Heron sedan which Wolfe owns and I drive, or in Judy's cab, and I had won. On the way back I remarked that I supposed Kearns had agreed to accept

Method Three for Murder 123

service for a Reno divorce because now it wouldn't leave him free to marry Phoebe Arden.

"No," Judy said. "Because his wife was a witness in a murder trial and that wouldn't do."

A little later I remarked that I supposed she had stopped dreaming about a lion standing on a rock about to spring at her.

"No," she said. "Only now I'm not sure who it is. It could even be you."

A little later I remarked that if the state of New York carried out its program for Mrs. Irving, who was in the death house at Sing Sing, I supposed Mira would get back from Reno just in time for a wedding.

"No," Judy said. "They'll wait at least a year. Gil Irving will always be being a gentleman."

Three supposes and all wrong. And still men keep on marrying women.

THE RODEO MURDER

Cal Barrow was standing at the tail end of the horse with his arm extended and his fingers wrapped around the strands of the rope that was looped over the horn of the cowboy saddle. His gray-blue eyes--as much of them as the half-closed lids left in view--were straight at me. His voice was low and easy, and noise from the group out front was coming through the open door, but I have good ears.

"Nothing to start a stampede," he said. "I just wanted to ask you how I go about taking some hide off a toad in this town." To give it as it actually sounded I would have to make it, "Ah jist wanted to ask yuh how Ah go about takin' some hide off a toad," but that's too complicated, and from here on I'll leave the sound effects to you if you want to bother.

I was sliding my fingertips up and down on the polished stirrup strap so that observers, if any, would assume that we were discussing the saddle. "I suppose," I said, "it's a two-legged toad." Then, as a brown-haired cowgirl named Nan Karlin, in a pink silk shirt open at the throat and regulation Levis, came through the arch and headed for the door to the terrace, lifting the heels of her fancy boots to navigate the Kashan rug that had set Lily Rowan back fourteen thousand bucks, I raised my voice a little so she wouldn't have to strain her ears if she was curious. "Sure," I said, rubbing the leather, "you could work it limber, but why don't they make it limber?"

126

3 at Wolfe's Door

But I may be confusing you, since a Kashan carpet with a garden pattern in seven colors is no place for a horse to stand, so I had better explain. The horse was a sawhorse. The saddle was to go to the winner in a roping contest that was to start in an hour. The Kashan, 19 X 34, was on the floor of the living room of Lily Rowan's penthouse, which was on the roof of a ten-story building on 63rd Street between Madison and Park Avenues, Manhattan. The time was three o'clock Monday afternoon. The group out on the terrace had just gone there for coffee after leaving the dining room, where the high point of the meal had been two dozen young blue grouse which had come from Montana on man-made wings, their own having stopped working. As we had moseyed through the living room on our way to the terrace Cal Barrow had got me aside to say he wanted to ask me something private, and we had detoured to inspect the saddle.

When Nan Karlin had passed and was outside, Cal Barrow didn't have to lower his voice again because he hadn't raised it. "Yeah, two legs," he said. (Make it "laigs.") "I got to ask somebody that knows this town and I was thinking this bozo Goodwin is the one to ask, he's in the detective business here and he ought to know. And my friend Harvey Greve tells me you're okay. I'm calling you Archie, am I?"

"So it was agreed at the table. First names all around."

"Suits me." He let go of the rope and gripped the edge of the cantle. "So I'll ask you. I'm a little worked up. Out where I live I wouldn't have to ask nobody, but here I'm no better'n a dogie. I been to Calgary and Pendleton, but I never come East before for this blowout. Huh. World Series Rodeo. From what I see so far you can have it."

He made it "roe-day-oh" with the accent on the "day." I nodded. "Madison Square Garden has no sky. But about this toad. We're supposed to go out with them for coffee. How much of his hide do you need?"

"I'll take a fair-sized patch." There was a glint in his eye. "Enough so he'll have to lick it till it gets a scab. The trouble is this blamed blowout, I don't want to stink it up my first time

The Rodeo Murder 12,7

here, if it wasn't for that I'd just handle it. I'd get him to provoke me."

"Hasn't he already provoked you?"

"Yeah, but I'm leaving that out. I was thinking you might even like to show him and me something. Have you got a car?"

I said I had.

"Then when we get through here you might like to take him and me to show us some nice little spot like on the river bank. There must be a spot somewhere. It would be better if you was there anyhow because if I kinda lost control and got too rough you could stop me. When I'm worked up I might get my teeth on the bit."

"Or I could stop him if necessary."

The glint showed again. "I guess you don't mean that. I wouldn't like to think you mean that."

I grinned at him, Archie to Cal. "What the hell, how do I know? You haven't named him. What if it's Mel Fox? He's bigger than you are, and Saturday night at the Garden I saw him bulldog a steer in twenty-three seconds. It took you thirty-one."

"My steer was meaner. Mel said so himself. Anyway it's not him. It's Wade Eisler."

My brows went up. Wade Eisler couldn't bulldog a milk cow in twenty-three hours, but he had rounded up ten million dollars, more or less, and he was the chief backer of the World Series Rodeo. If it got out that one of the cowboy contestants had taken a piece of his hide it would indeed stink it up, and it was no wonder that Cal Barrow wanted a nice little spot on a river bank. I not only raised my brows; I puckered my lips.

"Ouch," I said. "You'd better let it lay, at least for a week, until the rodeo's over and the prizes awarded."

"No, sir. I sure would like to, but I got to get it done. Today. I don't rightly know how I held off when I got here and saw him here. It would be a real big favor, Mr. Goodwin. Here in your town. Will you do it?"

I was beginning to like him. Especially I liked his not shoving by overworking the "Archie." He was a little younger than me,

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but not much, so it wasn't respect for age; he just wasn't a fudger.

"How did he provoke you?" I asked.

"That's private. Didn't I say I'm leaving that out?"

"Yes, but I can leave it out too. I don't say I'll play if you tell me, but I certainly won't if you don't. Whether I play or not, you can count on me to leave it out--or keep it in. As a private detective I get lots of practice keeping things in."

The gray-blue eyes were glued on me. "You won't tell anyone?"

"Right."

"Whether you help me or not?"

"Right."

"He got a lady to go to his place last night by telling her he was having a party, and when they got there there wasn't any party, and he tried to handle her. Did you see the scratch on his cheek?"

"Yes, I noticed it."

"She's not very big, but she's plenty active. All she got was a little skin off her ear when her head hit a corner of a table."

"I noticed that too."

"So I figure he's due to lose a bigger--" He stopped short. He slapped the saddle. "Now, damn it, that's me every time. Now you know who she is. I was going to leave that out."

Til keep it in. She told you about it?"

"Yes, sir, she did. This morning."

"Did she tell anyone else?"

"No, sir, she wouldn't. I got no brand on her, nobody has, but maybe some day when she quiets down a little and I've got my own corral . . . You've seen her on a bronc."

I nodded. "I sure have. I was looking forward to seeing her off of one, closer up, but now of course I'll keep my distance. I don't want to lose any hide."

His hand left the saddle. "I guess you just say things. I got no claim. I'm a friend of hers and she knows it, that's all. A couple of years ago I was wrangling dudes down in Arizona and she was snapping sheets at the hotel, and we kinda made out together and I guess I come in handy now and then. I don't mind coming in handy as long as I can look ahead. Right now I'm a friend of hers and that suits me fine. She might be surprised to know how I--"

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His eyes left me and I turned. Nero Wolfe was there, entering from the terrace. Somehow he always looks bigger away from home, I suppose because my eyes are so used to fitting his dimensions into the interiors of the old brownstone on West 35th. There he was, a mountain coming at us. As he approached he spoke. "If I may interrupt?" He allowed two seconds for objections, got none, and went on. "My apologies, Mr. Barrow." To me: "I have thanked Miss Rowan for a memorable meal and explained to her. To watch the performance I would have to stretch across that parapet and I am not built for it. If you drive me home now you can be back before four o'clock."

I glanced at my wrist. Ten after three. "More people are coming, and Lily has told them you'll be here. They'll be disappointed."

"Pfui. I have nothing to contribute to this frolic."

I wasn't surprised; in fact, I had been expecting it. He had got what he came for, so why stick around? What had brought him was the grouse. When, two years back, I had returned from a month's visit to Lily Rowan on a ranch she had bought in Montana, (where, incidentally, I had met Harvey Greve, Cal Barrow's friend), the only detail of my trip that had really interested Wolfe was one of the meals I described. At that time of year, late August, the young blue grouse are around ten weeks old and their main item of diet has been mountain huckleberries, and I had told Wolfe they were tastier than any bird Fritz had ever cooked, even quail or woodcock. Of course, since they're protected by law, they can cost up to five dollars a bite if you get caught.

Lily Rowan doesn't treat laws as her father did while he was piling up the seventeen million dollars he left her, but she can take them or leave them. So when she learned that Harvey Greve was coming to New York for the rodeo, and she decided to throw a party for some of the cast, and she thought it would be nice to feed {tern young blue grouse, the law was merely a hurdle to hop over. Since I'm a friend of hers and she knows it, that will do for that I will add only a brief report of a scene in the office on the ground floor of the old brownstone. It was Wednesday noon. Wolfe, at his desk, was reading the Times. I, at my desk, finished a phone call, hung up, and swiveled.

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"That's interesting," I said. "That was Lily Rowan. As I told you, I'm going to a roping contest at her place Monday afternoon. A cowboy is going to ride a horse along Sixty-third Street, and other cowboys are going to try to rope him from the terrace of her penthouse, a hundred feet up. Never done before. First prize will be a saddle with silver trimmings."

He grunted. "Interesting?"

"Not that. That's just games. But a few of them are coming earlier for lunch, at one o'clock, and I'm invited, and she just had a phone call from Montana. Twenty young blue grouse, maybe more, will arrive by plane Saturday afternoon, and Felix is going to come and cook them. I'm glad I'm going. It's too bad you and Lily don't get along--ever since she squirted perfume on you."

He put the paper down to glare. "She didn't squirt perfume on me."

I flipped a hand. "It was her perfume."

He picked up the paper, pretended to read a paragraph, and dropped it again. He passed his tongue over his lips. "I have no animus for Miss Rowan. But I will not solicit an invitation."

"Of course not. You wouldn't stoop. I don't--"

"But you may ask if I would accept one."

'Would you?"

"Yes."

"Good. She asked me to invite you, but I was afraid you'd decline and I'd hate to hurt her feelings. I'll tell her." I reached for the phone.

I report that incident so you'll understand why he got up and left after coffee. I not only wasn't surprised when he came and interrupted Cal Barrow and me, I was pleased, because Lily had bet me a sawbuck he wouldn't stay for coffee. Leaving him there with Cal, I went to the terrace.

In the early fall Lily's front terrace is usually sporting annual flowers along the parapet and by the wall of the penthouse, and a few evergreens in tubs scattered around, but for that day the parapet was bare, and instead of the evergreens, which would have interfered with rope whirling, there were clumps of sagebrush two feet high in pots. The sagebrush had come by rail, not by air, but

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even so the part of Lily that had ordered it and paid for it is not my part. That will he no news to her when she reads this.

I glanced around. Lily was in a group seated to the right, with Wade Eisler on one side and Mel Fox on the other. In dash she wasn't up to the two cowgirls there, Nan Karlin in her pink silk shirt and Anna Casado, dark-skinned with black hair and black eyes, in her yellow one, but she was the hostess and not in competition. In situations that called for dash she had plenty. The other four were standing by the parapet at the left--Roger Dunning, the rodeo promoter, not in costume; his wife Ellen, former cowgirl, also not in costume; Harvey Greve in his brown shirt and red neck rag and corduroy pants and boots; and Laura Jay. Having Laura Jay in profile, I could see the bandage on her ear through the strands of her hair, which was exactly the color of the thyme honey that Wolfe gets from Greece. At the dinner table she had told me that a horse had jerked his head around and the bit had bruised her, but now I knew different.

Stepping across to tell Lily I was leaving but would be back in time for the show, I took a side glance at Wade Eisler's plump, round face. The scratch, which began an inch below his left eye and slanted down nearly to the corner of his mouth, hadn't gone very deep and it had had some fifteen hours to calm down by Cal Barrow's account, but it didn't improve his looks any, and there was ample room for improvement. He was one of those New York characters that get talked about and he had quite a reputation as a smooth operator, but he certainly hadn't been smooth last night--according to Laura Jay as relayed by Cal Barrow. The cave-man approach to courtship may have its points if that's the best you can do, but if I ever tried it I would have more sense than to pick a girl who could rope and tie a frisky calf in less than a minute.

After telling Lily I would be back in time for the show and was looking forward to collecting the sawbuck, I returned to the living room. Wolfe and Cal were admiring the saddle. I told Cal I would think it over and let him know, went to the foyer and got Wolfe's hat and stick, followed him down the flight of stairs to the tenth floor, and rang for the elevator. We walked the two blocks

132, 3 "* Wolfe's Door

to the parking lot where I had left the Heron sedan, which Wolfe had paid for but I had selected. Of course a taxi would have been simpler, but he hates things on wheels. To ride in a strange vehicle with a stranger driving would be foolhardy; with me at the wheel in a car of my choice it is merely imprudent.

Stopped by a red light on Park Avenue in the Fifties, I turned my head to say, "I'm taking the car back because I may need it. I may do a little errand for one of the cowboys. If so I probably won't be home for dinner."

"A professional errand?"

"No. Personal."

He grunted. "You have the afternoon, as agreed. If the errand is personal it is not my concern. But, knowing you as I do, I trust it is innocuous."

"So do I." The light changed and I fed gas.

ii

It was ten minutes to four when I got back to the parking lot on 63rd Street. Walking west, I crossed Park Avenue and stopped for a look. Five cops were visible. One was talking to the driver of a car who wanted to turn the corner, two were standing at the curb talking, and two were holding off an assortment of pedestrians who wanted to get closer to three mounted cowboys. The cowboys were being spoken to by a man on foot, not in costume. As I moved to proceed one of the cops at the curb blocked me and spoke. "Do you live in this block, sir?"

I told him no, I was going to Miss Lily Rowan's party, and he let me pass. The New York Police Department likes to grant reasonable requests from citizens, especially when the request comes from a woman whose father was a Tammany district leader for thirty years. There were no parked cars on that side of the street, but twenty paces short of the building entrance a truck with cameras was hugging the curb, and there was another one farther on, near Madison Avenue.

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When I had left with Wolfe Lily had had nine guests; now she had twenty or more. Three of the new arrivals were cowboys, making six with Cal Barrow, Harvey Greve, and Mel Fox; die rest were civilians. They were all on the terrace. The civilians were at the parapet, half at one end and half at the other, leaving the parapet clear for thirty feet in the middle. The cowboys, their ten-gallon hats on their heads and their ropes in their hands, were lined up facing a tall skinny man in a brown suit. At the man's elbow was Roger Dunning, the promoter. The man was speaking.

". . . and that's the way it's going to be. I'm the judge and what I say goes. I repeat that Greve hasn't done any practicing, and neither has Barrow or Fox. I have Miss Rowan's word for that, and I don't think you want to call her a liar. I've told you the order, but you don't move in until I call your name. Remember what I said, if you take a tumble off a bronc it's four feet down; here it's a hundred feet down and you won't get up and walk. Once again, no hooligan stuff. There's not supposed to be any pedestrians on this side of the street from four o'clock to five, but if one comes out of a house and one of you drops a loop on him you won't sleep in a hotel room tonight. We're here to have some fun, but don't get funny." He looked at his watch. "Time to go. Fox, get--"

"I want to say something," Roger Dunning said.

"Sorry, Roger, no time. We promised to start on the dot. Fox, get set. The rest of you scatter."

He went to the parapet, to the left, and picked up a green flag on a stick that was there on a chair. Mel Fox stepped to the middle of the clear stretch, straddled the parapet, and started his noose going. The others went right and left to find spots in the lines of guests. I found a spot on the right that happened to be between Laura Jay and Anna Casado. Leaning over to get a view of the street, I saw I was blocking Laura Jay and drew in a little. The three mounted cowboys and the man I had seen talking to them were grouped on the pavement halfway to Park Avenue. The judge stuck his arm out with the green flag and dipped it, the man down with the mounted cowboys said something, and one of the ponies was off on the jump, heading down the middle of the lane between

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the curb on our side and the parked cars on the other. Mel Fox, leaning out from his hips, moved his whirling loop back a little, and then brought it forward and let it go. When it reached bottom it was a little too far out and the cowboy on the pony was twenty feet ahead of it. The instant it touched the pavement Fox started hauling it in; he had thirty seconds until the flag started number two. He had it up and a noose going in less than that, but the judge went by his watch. The flag dipped, and here came the second one. That was a little better; the rope touched the pony's rump, but it was too far in. Fox hauled in again, shifted his straddle a little, and started another whirl. That time he nearly made it. Anna Casado, on my left, let out a squeal as the rope, descending smoothly in a perfect circle, brushed the edge of the cowboy's hat. The audience clapped, and a man in a window across the street shouted "Bravo!" Fox retrieved his rope, taking his time, dismounted from the parapet, said something I didn't catch because of other voices, and moved off as the judge called out, "Vince!"

A chunky little youngster in a purple shirt, Levis, and working boots mounted the parapet. Saturday night I had seen him stick it out bareback on one of the roughest broncs I had ever seen--not speaking as an expert. He wasn't so hot on a parapet. On his first try his loop turned straight up, which could have been an air current, on his second it draped over a parked car across the street, and on his third it hit the asphalt ten feet ahead of the pony.

Harvey Greve was next. Naturally I was rooting for him, since he had done me a lot of favors during the month I had spent at Lily's ranch. Lily called something to him from the other end of the parapet, and he gave her a nod as he threw his leg over and started his loop. His first throw was terrible; the noose buckled and flipped before it was halfway down. His second was absolutely perfect; it centered around the cowboy like a smoke ring around a fingertip, and Harvey timed the jerk just right and had him. A yell came from the audience as the cowboy tightened the reins and the pony braked, skidding on the asphalt. He loosened the loop with one hand and passed it over his head, and as soon as it was free the judge sang out "Thirty seconds!" and Harvey started haul The Rodeo Murder 135

ing in. His third throw sailed down round and flat, but it was too late by ten feet.

As the judge called Barrow's name and Cal stepped to the parapet, Laura Jay, on my right, muttered, "He shouldn't try it." She was probably muttering to herself, but my ear was right there and I turned my head and asked her why. "Somebody stole his rope," she said.

"Stole it? When? How?"

"He don't know. It was in the closet with his hat and it was gone. We looked all around. He's using the one that was on that saddle and it's new and stiff, and he shouldn't--"

She stopped and I jerked my head around. The flag had dipped and the target was coming. Considering that he was using a strange rope, and a new one, Cal didn't do so bad. His loops kept their shape clear down, but the first one was short, the second was wide, and the third hit bottom before the pony got there. Neither of the last two ropers, one named Lopez and the other Holcomb, did as well. When Holcomb's third noose curled on the curb below us the judge called, "Second round starts in two minutes! Everybody stay put!"

There were to be three rounds, giving each contestant a total of nine tries. Roger Dunning was stationed near the judge, with a pad of paper and a pen in his hand, to keep score in case the decision had to be made on form and how close they came, but since Harvey Greve had got one that wouldn't be necessary.

In the second round Fox got a rider and Lopez got a pony. In the third round Holcomb got a rider and Harvey got his second one. The winner and first world champion rope-dropper or drop roper from one hundred feet up: Harvey Greve! He took the congratulations and the riding from the other competitors with the grin I knew so well, and when he got kissed by a friend of Lily's who was starring in a hit on Broadway and knew how to kiss both on stage and off, his face was nearly as pink as Nan Karlin's shirt. Anna Casado broke off a branch of sagebrush and stuck it under his hatband. Lily herded us into the living room, where we gathered around the sawhorse, and Roger Dunning was starting a presentation speech when Cal Barrow stopped him.

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"Wait a minute, this goes with it," Cal said, and went and hung the rope on the horn. He turned and sent the blue-gray eyes right and then left. "I don't want to start no fuss right now, but when I find out who took mine I'll want to know." He moved to the rear of the crowd, and Dunning put his hand on the seat of the saddle. Dunning had a long and narrow bony face with a scar at the side of his jaw.

"This is a happy occasion," he said. "Thank God nothing happened like one of you falling off. I wanted to have a net down--"

"Louder!" Mel Fox called.

"You're just sore because you didn't win," Dunning told him. "I wanted to have a net below but they wouldn't. This magnificent saddle with genuine silver rivets and studs was handmade by Morrison, and I don't have to tell you what that means. It was donated by Miss Lily Rowan, and I want to thank her for her generosity and hospitality on behalf of everybody concerned. I now declare Harvey Greve the undisputed winner of the first and only roping contest ever held in a Park Avenue penthouse--anyway just outside the penthouse and we could see Park Avenue--and I award him the prize, this magnificent saddle donated by Miss Lily Rowan. Here it is, Harvey. It's all yours."

Applause and cheers. Someone called "Speech!" and others took it up, as Harvey went and flattened his palm on the sudadero. He faced the audience. "I tell you," he said, "if I tried to make a speech you'd take this saddle away from me. The only time I make a speech is when a cayuse gets from under me and that's no kind for here. You all know that was just luck out there, but I'm mighty glad I won because I sure had my eye on this saddle. The lady that kissed me, I didn't mind that atall, but I been working for Miss Lily Rowan for more'n three years and she never kissed me yet and this is her last chance."

They let out a whoop, and Lily ran to him, put her hands on his shoulders, and planted one on each cheek, and he went pink again. Two men in white jackets came through the arch, with trays loaded with glasses of champagne. In the alcove a man at the piano and two with fiddles started "Home on the Range." Lily had asked me a week ago what I thought of having the rug up and trying

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'37

some barn dancing, and I had told her I doubted if many of the cowboys and girls would know how, and none of the others would. Better just let the East meet the West.

The best way to drink champagne, for me anyhow, is to gulp the first glass as a primer and sip from there on. Lily was busy being a hostess, so I waited to go and touch glasses with her until I had taken a couple of sips from my second. "Doggone it," I told her, "I'd a brung my rope and give it a whirl if I'd a known you was goin' tub kiss the winner." She said, "Huh. If I ever kissed you in front of an audience the women would scream and the men would faint."

I moved around a while, being sociable, and wound up on a chair by a clump of sagebrush on the terrace, between Laura Jay and a civilian. Since I knew him well and didn't like him much, I didn't apologize for horning in. I asked her if Cal had found his rope, and she said she didn't think so, she hadn't seen him for the last half hour.

"Neither have I," I said. "He doesn't seem to be around. I wanted to ask him if he'd found it. I haven't seen Wade Eisler either. Have you?"

Her eyes met mine straight. "No. Why?"

"No special reason. I suppose you know I'm in the detective business."

"I know. You're with Nero Wolfe."

"I work for him. I'm not here on business, I'm a friend of Miss Rowan's, but I'm in the habit of noticing things, and I didn't see Wade Eisler at the parapet while they were roping, and I haven't seen him since. I know you better than I do the others, except Harvey Greve, because I sat next to you at lunch, so I just thought I'd ask."

"Don't ask me. Ask Miss Rowan."

"Oh, it's not that important. But I'm curious about Cal's rope. I don't see why--"

Cal Barrow was there. He had come from the rear and was suddenly there in front of me. He spoke, in his low easy voice. "Can I see you a minute, Archie?"

"Where have you been?" Laura demanded.

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"I been around."

I stood up. "Find your rope?"

"I want to show you. You stay hitched, Laura." She had started up. "You hear me?" It was a command, and from her stare I guessed it was the first one he had ever given her. "Come along, Archie," he said, and moved.

He led me around the corner of the penthouse. On that side the terrace is only six feet wide, but in the rear there is space enough for a badminton court and then some. The tubs of evergreens that had been removed from the front were there, and Cal went on past them to the door of a shack which Lily used for storage. The grouse had been hung there Saturday afternoon. He opened the door and entered, and when I was in shut the door. The only light came from two small windows at the far end, so it was half dark coming in from broad daylight, and Cal said, "Look out, don't step on him."

I turned and reached for the light switch and flipped it, turned back, and stood and looked down at Wade Eisler. As I moved and squatted Cal said, "No use taking his pulse. He's dead."

He was. Thoroughly. The protruding tongue was purple and so were the lips and most of the face. The staring eyes were wide open. The rope had been wound around his throat so many times, a dozen or more, that his chin was pushed up. The rest of the rope was piled on his chest.

"That's my rope," Cal said. "I was looking for it and I found it. I was going to take it but I thought I better not."

"You thought right." I was on my feet I faced him and got his eyes. "Did you do it?"

"No, sir."

I looked at my wrist: twelve minutes to six. "I'd like to believe you," I said, "and until further notice I do. The last I saw you in there you were taking a glass of champagne. More than half an hour ago. I haven't seen you since. That's a long time."

"I been hunting my rope. When I drank that one glass I asked Miss Rowan if she minded if I looked and she said no. We had already looked inside and out front. Then when I come in here

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and found him I sat on that box a while to think it over. I decided the best thing was to get you."

"Wasn't this door locked?"

"No, sir. It was shut but it wasn't locked."

That was possible. It was often left unlocked in the daytime. I looked around. The room held all kinds of stuff--stacks of luggage, chairs, card tables, old magazines on shelves--but at the front, where we were, there was a clear space. Everything seemed to be in place; there was no sign that Eisler had put up a fight, and you wouldn't suppose a man would stand with his hands in his pockets while someone got a noose around his neck and pulled it tight. If he had been conked first, what with? I stepped to a rack against the wall on the left and put a hand out, but pulled it back. One of those three-foot stainless-steel rods, for staking plants, would have been just the thing, and the one on top was lying across the others. If I had had gloves and a glass with me, and there had been no rush, and Cal hadn't been there with his eyes boring at me, I would have given it a look.

I opened the door, using my handkerchief for the knob, and stepped out. There were six windows in the rear of the penthouse, but except for the two near the far corner, which belonged to the maid's room and bathroom, their view of the shack and the approach to it was blocked by the evergreens. That had been a break for the murderer; there had certainly been someone in the kitchen. I went back inside, shut the door, and told Cal, "Here's how it is. I have to get the cops here before anyone leaves if I want to keep my license. I don't owe Wade Eisler anything, but this will be a sweet mess for Miss Rowan and I'm a friend of hers, so I'm curious. When did you first miss the rope?"

He opened his mouth and closed it again. He shook his head. "I guess I made a mistake," he said. "I should have took that rope off and found it somewhere else."

"You should like hell. It would have been a cinch for the police lab to prove it had been around his neck. When did you first miss it?"

"But I had told you about last night and how I was worked up

140 3 at Wolfe's Door

and you had promised to keep it in, and I figured I couldn't expect you to be square with me if I wasn't square with you, so I went and got you. Now the way you take it, I don't know."

"For God's sake." I wasn't as disgusted as I sounded. "What did you think, I'd bring you a bottle of champagne? Wait till you see how the cops take it. When did you first miss the rope?"

"I don't know just what time. It was a while after you left, maybe twenty minutes. With people coming and putting things in that closet I thought I'd get it and hang onto it."

"Had you put it in the closet yourself?"

"Yeah. On the shelf with my hat on top. The hat was there but the rope was gone."

"Did you tell someone right away?"

"I looked all over the closet and then I told Laura and she told Miss Rowan. Miss Rowan asked everybody and she helped Laura and me look some, but people started coming."

"At the time you missed the rope had anybody already come? Was anyone here besides those who ate lunch with us?"

"No, sir."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure enough to put a no on it. They ain't much a man can be dead sure of. It might be someone came I didn't see, but I was right there and I'd have to--"

"Save it." I glanced at my watch: five minutes to six. "At the time you missed the rope where was Wade Eisler?"

"I don't know."

"When did you see him last?"

"I can't say exactly. I wasn't riding herd on him."

"Did you see him after you missed the rope? Take a second. This is important. Take ten."

He screwed up his lips and shut his eyes. He took the full ten seconds. His eyes opened. "No, sir, I didn't."

"Sure enough to put a no on it?"

"I already did."

"Okay. Do you know if anyone else was worked up about Wade Eisler?"

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"I wouldn't say worked up. I guess nobody wanted him for a pet."

"As it looks now, someone who ate lunch with us killed him. Have you any idea who?"

"No, sir. I don't expect to have none."

"That's noble. Don't be too noble. There's plenty more, but it will have to wait. If I leave you here while I go in and tell Miss Rowan and call the cops will you stay put and keep your hands off of that rope?"

"No, sir. I'm going to see Laura. I'm going to tell her if they ask her anything she better leave it out about last night."

"You are not." I was emphatic. "You've got no brand on her, you said so. You may think you know how she'll take a going-over by experts, but you don't. Every move anybody makes from now on will get on the record, and if you go and call her away from that baboon she's sitting with, what does she say and what do you say when they ask you why? She'll either leave it out or she won't, and you'll only make it worse if you tell her to. If you won't promise you'll stick here I'll just open the door and yell for Miss Rowan, and she can call the cops."

His jaw was working. "You said you believed me."

"I do. If I change my mind I'll let you know first. What you told me and what you asked me to do, I said I'd keep it in and I will, provided you do too. We were discussing the saddle. Well?"

"I figure to keep everything in. But if I could just tell her--"

"No. She probably won't spill it, but if she does and says she told you about it that won't break any bones. You left it out because you didn't want to cause her trouble. Everybody leaves things out when cops ask questions. Do I yell for Miss Rowan?"

"No. Ill stay hitched."

"Come outside and stand at the door. You've already touched the knob twice and that's enough. If anyone comes keep them off." Using my handkerchief again, I opened the door. He stepped out and I pulled the door shut as I crossed the silL"Be seeing you," I said, and went.

I entered at the rear and glanced in at the kitchen on the chance

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and you had promised to keep it in, and I figured I couldn't expect you to be square with me if I wasn't square with you, so I went and got you. Now the way you take it, I don't know."

"For God's sake." I wasn't as disgusted as I sounded. "What did you think, I'd bring you a bottle of champagne? Wait till you see how the cops take it. When did you first miss the rope?"

"I don't know just what time. It was a while after you left, maybe twenty minutes. With people coming and putting things in that closet I thought I'd get it and hang onto it."

"Had you put it in the closet yourself?"

"Yeah. On the shelf with my hat on top. The hat was there but the rope was gone."

"Did you tell someone right away?"

"I looked all over the closet and then I told Laura and she told Miss Rowan. Miss Rowan asked everybody and she helped Laura and me look some, but people started coming."

"At the time you missed the rope had anybody already come? Was anyone here besides those who ate lunch with us?"

"No, sir."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure enough to put a no on it. They ain't much a man can be dead sure of. It might be someone came I didn't see, but I was right there and I'd have to--"

"Save it." I glanced at my watch: five minutes to six. "At the time you missed the rope where was Wade Eisler?"

"I don't know."

"When did you see him last?"

"I can't say exactly. I wasn't riding herd on him."

"Did you see him after you missed the rope? Take a second. This is important. Take ten."

He screwed up his lips and shut his eyes. He took the full ten seconds. His eyes opened. "No, sir, I didn't."

"Sure enough to put a no on it?"

"I already did."

"Okay. Do you know if anyone else was worked up about Wade Eisler?"

The Rodeo Murder 141

"I wouldn't say worked up. I guess nobody wanted him for a pet." _

"As it looks now, someone who ate lunch with us killed him. Have you any idea who?"

"No, sir. I don't expect to have none."

"That's noble. Don't be too noble. There's plenty more, but it will have to wait. If I leave you here while I go in and tell Miss Rowan and call the cops will you stay put and keep your hands off of that rope?"

"No, sir. I'm going to see Laura. I'm going to tell her if they ask her anything she better leave it out about last night."

"You ar6 not." I was emphatic. "You've got no brand on her, you said so. You may think you know how she'll take a going-over by experts, but you don't. Every move anybody makes from now on will get on the record, and if you go and call her away from that baboon she's sitting with, what does she say and what do you say when they ask you why? She'll either leave it out or she won't, and you'll only make it worse if you tell her to. If you won't promise you'll stick here I'll just open the door and yell for Miss Rowan, and she can call the cops."

His jaw was working. "You said you believed me."

"I do. If I change my mind I'll let you know first. What you told me and what you asked me to do, I said I'd keep it in and I will, provided you do too. We were discussing the saddle. Well?"

"I figure to keep everything in. But if I could just tell her--"

"No. She probably won't spill it, but if she does and says she told you about it that won't break any bones. You left it out because you didn't want to cause her trouble. Everybody leaves things out when cops ask questions. Do I yell for Miss Rowan?"

"No. I'll stay hitched."

"Come outside and stand at the door. You've already touched the knob twice and that's enough. If anyone comes keep them off." Using my handkerchief again, I opened the door. He stepped out and I pulled the door shut as I crossed the sill. "Be seeing you," I said, and went.

I entered at the rear and glanced in at the kitchen on the chance

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that Lily was there. No. Nor the living room. The piano and fiddles were playing "These Fences Don't Belong." I found her on the terrace, caught her eye and gave her a sign, and she came. I headed for the dining room, and when she had followed me in I closed the door.

"One question," I said. "That's all there's time for. When did you last see Wade Eisler?"

She cocked her head and crinkled her eyes, remembering. I have mentioned a part of her that wasn't mine; this was a part of her that was mine. No what or why; I had asked her a question and she was digging up the answer. She took longer than Cal had. "It was soon after you left," she said. "He put his cup down and I asked him if he wanted more coffee and he said no. Someone did want some and the pot was nearly empty and I went to the kitchen for more. Felix and Robert were arguing about when the champagne should be put on ice, and I sent Freda to the terrace with the coffee and stayed there to calm them down. Who's worrying about Wade Eisler?"

"Nobody. How long did you stay in the kitchen?"

"Oh, ten minutes. Felix can be difficult."

"Eisler wasn't there when you went back?"

"I didn't notice. They had scattered. Some of them were in the living room. Then Laura Jay told me Cal Barrow's rope was gone and I helped them look, and then people came."

'When did you notice that Eisler wasn't around?"

"Some time later. Roger Dunning wanted someone to meet him and asked me where he was. I didn't know and didn't care. I supposed he had left without bothering to thank me for the meal. He would." She tossed her head. "That's four questions. What's the point?"

"Cal Barrow was looking for his rope and found Eisler's body on the floor of the shack with the rope around his neck. He came and got me. He's there guarding the door. Will you phone the police or do you want me to?" I glanced at my wrist: four minutes after six. "It's already been sixteen minutes since I saw him and that's enough."

"No," she said.

The Rodeo Murder 143

"Yes," I said.

'Wade Eisler hung himself?"

"No. He's not hanging, he's on the floor. Also after the noose was pulled tight the rope was wound around his neck a dozen times. He didn't do that."

"But how could--who would--wo.'"

"Yes. It would be me to hand you something like this, hut at that I'm glad it is. I mean since it happened I'm glad I'm here. Do you want me to phone?"

She swallowed. "No, I will. It's my house." She touched my sleeve. "I'm damn glad you're here."

"Spring seven, three one hundred. I'll repeat that number: Spring seven--"

"You clown! All right, I needed it, that helped. I'll phone from the bedroom."

She moved, hut I stopped her. "Do you want me to collect the guests and tell them the cops are coming?"

"Oh my God. Here in my house--but of course that's routine. That's etiquette--when you're having a party and someone finds a body you collect the guests and make an announcement and say you hope they'll come again and--"

"You're babbling."

"So I am." She went, and I had to step to get to the door ahead of her.

Since a prowl car was certainly in the neighborhood there wasn't much time, and I went to the terrace and sang out, "Everybody inside! Don't walk, run! Inside, everybody!" I entered the living room and mounted a chair. I wanted to see their faces. You seldom get anything helpful from faces, especially when there are more than twenty of them, but you always think you might. Those already inside approached, and those coming from the terrace joined them. I turned to the musicians and patted the air, and they broke off. Mel Fox said in a champagne-loud voice, "She's gone and got a saddle for me." Laughter. When you've been drinking champagne for an hour laughing comes easy.

I raised a hand and waggled it. "I've got bad news," I said. "I'm sorry, but here it is. A dead body has been found on the premises.

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The body of Wade Eisler. I have seen it. He was murdered. Miss Rowan is notifying the police and they will soon be here. She asked me to tell you. Of course nobody will leave."

What broke the silence was not a gasp but a giggle, from Nan Karlin. Then Roger Dunning demanded, "Where is he?" and Laura Jay moved, darting to the door to the terrace and on out, and the faces I had wanted to see turned away as Lily appeared through the arch.

She came on. She raised her voice. "All right, I got you here and we're in for it. I don't go much by rules, but now I need one. What does the perfect hostess do when a guest murders another guest? I suppose I ought to apologize, but that doesn't seem . . ."

I had stepped down from the chair. It wasn't up to me to welcome the cops, it was Lily's house and she was there, and anyway it would only be a pair from a prowl car. The homicide specialists would come later. Circling the crowd, I made for a door at the other side of the room, passed through, and was in what Lily called the kennel because a guest's dog had once misused the rug there. There were book shelves, and a desk and safe and typewriter, and a phone. I went to the phone and dialed a number I could have dialed with my eyes shut. Since Wolfe's afternoon session up in the plant rooms with the orchids was from four to six, he would have gone down to the office and would answer it himself.

He did. "Yes?"

"Me. Calling from the library in Miss Rowan's apartment. Regarding Wade Eisler. The one with a pudgy face and a scratch on his cheek. I gathered from your expression when he called you Nero that you thought him objectionable."

"I did. I do."

"So did somebody else. His body has been found in a storage room here on the roof. Strangled with a rope. The police are on the way. I'm calling to say that I have no idea when I'll be home, and I thought you ought to know that you'll probably be hearing from Cramer. A man getting croaked a few hours after he ate lunch with you--try telling Cramer you know nothing about it."

"I shall. What do you know about it?"

"The same as you. Nothing."

The Rodeo Murder 145

"It's a confounded nuisance, but it was worth it. The grouse was superb. Give Miss Rowan my respects."

I said I would.

The kennel had a door to the side hall, and I left that way, went to the side terrace, and headed for the shack. As I expected, Cal was not alone. He stood with his back against the door, his arms folded. Laura Jay was against him, gripping his wrists, her head tilted back, talking fast in a voice so low I caught no words. I called sharply, "Break it up!" She whirled on a heel and a toe, her eyes daring me to come any closer. I went closer. "You damn fool," I said, reaching her. "Snap out of it. Beat it! Get!"

"She thinks I killed him," Cal said. "I been trying to tell her, but she won't--"

What stopped him was her hands pressed against his mouth. He got her wrists and pulled them away. "He knows about it," he said. "I told him."

"Cal! You didn't! You mustn't-"

I got her elbow and jerked her around. "If you want to make it good," I said, "put your arms around his neck and moan. When I poke you in the ribs that'll mean a cop's coming and you'll moan louder and then turn and let out a scream, and when he's close enough, say ten feet, you leap at him and start clawing his face. That'll distract him and Cal can run to the terrace and jump off. Have you got anything at all in your skull besides air? What do you say when they ask you why you dashed out to find Cal when I announced the news? That you wanted to be the first to congratulate him?"

Her teeth were clamped on her lip. She undamped them. She twisted her neck to look at Cal, twisted back to look at me, and moved. One slow step, and then she was off, and just in time. As she passed the first evergreen the sound came of the back door of the penthouse closing, and heavy feet, and I turned to greet the company. It was a harness bull.

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in

Even when I get my full ration of sleep, eight hours, I don't break through my personal morning fog until I have emptied my coffee cup, and when the eight is cut to five by events beyond my control, as it was that night, I have to grope my way to the bathroom. After getting home at five in the morning, and leaving a note for Fritz saying I would be down for breakfast at 10:45,1 na^ set the alarm for ten o'clock. That had seemed sensible, but the trouble with an alarm clock is that what seems sensible when you set it seems absurd when it goes off. Before prying my eyes open I stayed flat a while, trying to find an alternative, and had to give up when I was conscious enough to realize that Wolfe would come down from the plant rooms at eleven. Forty minutes later I descended the two flights to the ground floor, entered the kitchen, told Fritz good morning, got my orange juice from the refrigerator, and sat at the table where my copy of the Times was on the rack. Fritz, who is as well acquainted with my morning fog as I am and never tries to talk through it, uncovered the sausage and lit the fire under the griddle for cakes.

The murder of Wade Eisler with a lasso at the penthouse of Lily Rowan rated the front page even in the Times. There was no news in it for me, nothing that I didn't already know, after the five hours I had spent at the scene of the crime with Homicide personnel, three hours at the District Attorney's office, and three hours back at the penthouse with Lily, at her request. Cal Barrow was in custody as a material witness. The District Attorney couldn't say if he would be released in time for the Tuesday-evening rodeo performance. Archie Goodwin had told a Times reporter that he had not been at the penthouse in his professional capacity; he and Nero Wolfe had merely been guests. The police didn't know what the motive had been, or weren't telling. Wade Eisler, a bachelor, had been a well-known figure in sporting and theatrical circles. The Times didn't say that he had had a chronic and broadminded

The Rodeo Murder 147

taste for young women, but the tabloids certainly would. And so forth.

I was spreading honey on the third griddle cake when the sounds came of the elevator jolting to a stop and then Wolfe's footsteps in the hall crossing to the office. He wouldn't expect to find me there, since Fritz would have told him of my note when he took his breakfast tray up, so I took my time with the cake and honey and poured more coffee. As I was taking a sip the doorbell rang and I got up and went to the hall for a look. Through the one-way glass in the front door I saw a big broad frame and a big pink face that was all too familiar. The hall on the ground floor of the old brownstone is long and wide, with the walnut clothes rack, the elevator, the stairs, and the door to the dining room on one side, the doors to the front room and the office on the other, and the kitchen in the rear. I stepped to the office door, which was standing open, and said, "Good morning. Cramer."

Wolfe, in his oversized chair behind his desk, turned his head to scowl at me. "Good morning. I told him on the phone last evening that I have no information for him."

I had had two cups of coffee and the fog was gone. "Then I'll tell him to try next door."

"No." His lips tightened. "Confound him. That will only convince him that I'm hiding something. Let him in."

I went to the front, opened the door, and inquired, "Good lord, don't you ever sleep?"

I will never get to see Inspector Cramer at the top of his form, the form that has kept him in charge of Homicide for twenty years, because when I see him I am there and that throws him off. It's only partly me; it's chiefly that I make him think of Wolfe, and thinking of Wolfe is too much for him. When he has us together his face gets pinker and his voice gets gruffer, as it did that morning. He sat in the red leather chair near the end of Wolfe's desk, leaning forward, his elbows planted on the chair arms. He spoke. "I came to ask one question, why were you there yesterday? You told me on the phone last night that you went there to eat grouse, and Goodwin said the same. It's in his signed statement. Nuts. You could have had him bring the grouse here and had Fritz cook it."

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Wolfe granted. "When you are invited to someone's table to taste a rare bird you accept or decline. You don't ask that the bird be sent to you--unless you're a king."

'Which you think you are. You're named after one."

"I am not. Nero Claudius Caesar was an emperor, not a king, and I wasn't named after him. I was named after a mountain."

"Which you are. I still want to know why you were there with that bunch. You never leave your house on business, so it wasn't for a client. You went with Goodwin because he asked you to. Why did he ask you to? Why did you sit next to Wade Eisler at lunch? Why did Goodwin have a private talk with one of them, Cal Barrow, just before he drove you home? Why did Barrow go to him when he found the body? Why did Goodwin wait twenty minutes before he had Miss Rowan report it?"

Wolfe was leaning back, his eyes half closed, being patient. "You had Mr. Goodwin at your disposal all night. Weren't those points covered?"

Cramer snorted. "They were covered, all right. He knows how to cover. I'm not saying he knew or you knew Eisler's number was up. I don't say you know who did it or why. I do say there was some kind of trouble and Miss Rowan was involved in it, or at least she knew about it, and that's why Goodwin got you to go. You told me last night that you know nothing whatever about any of those people except Miss Rowan, and that your knowledge of her is superficial. I don't believe it."

"Mr. Cramer." Wolfe's eyes opened. "I lie only for advantage, never merely for convenience."

I cut in. "Excuse me." I was at my desk, at right angles to Wolfe's. Cramer turned to me. "I'd like to help if I can," I told him, "on account of Miss Rowan. I was backstage at the rodeo twice last week, and it's barely possible I heard or saw something that would open a crack. It would depend on how it stands. I know you're holding Cal Barrow. .Has he been charged?"

"No. Material witness. It was his rope and he found the body."

"I am not concerned," Wolfe growled, "but I remark that that would rather justify holding the others."

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"We haven't got your brains," Cramer growled back. To me: "What did you hear and see backstage at the rodeo?"

"I might remember something if I knew more about it. I know Eisler wasn't there when I returned at four o'clock, but I don't know who saw him last or when. Is everybody out except the ones who were there for lunch?"

"Yes. He was there when Miss Rowan left to go to the kitchen for coffee. That was at three-twenty, eight minutes after you left, as close as we can get it. No one remembers seeing him after that, so they say. No one noticed him leave the terrace, so they say. He got up from the lunch table at five minutes to three. He emptied his coffee cup at three-twenty. The stomach contents say that he died within twenty minutes of that. None of the other guests came until a quarter to four. So there's three cowboys: Harvey Greve, Cal Barrow, and Mel Fox. There's three cowgirls: Anna Casado, Nan Karlin, and Laura Jay. There's Roger Dunning and his wife. You and Wolfe weren't there. Miss Rowan was, but if you saw or heard anything that points at her you wouldn't remember it. Was she at the rodeo with you?"

"I don't remember. Skip it. You've got it down to twenty minutes, from three-twenty to three-forty. Wasn't anyone else missed during that period?"

"Not by anybody who says so. That's the hell of it. Nobody liked Eisler. Not a single one of them would give a bent nickel to see the murderer caught. Some of them might give a good nickel to see him get away with it. This might make you remember something you saw or heard: Sunday night he took a woman to his apartment, and it could have been one of the cowgirls. We haven't got a good description of her, but the fingerprint men are there now. Were you at the Garden Sunday night?"

I shook my head. "Wednesday and Saturday. What about prints in the shack?"

"None that are any good."

"Last night I mentioned that a steel rod in a rack was crosswise."

"Yeah. We might have noticed it ourselves in time. It had been wiped. He had been hit in the back of the head with it. You can

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read about it in the evening paper. Do you want to come down and look at it?"

"You don't have to take that tone." I was hurt. "I said I'd like to help and I meant it. You need help, you're up a stump, or you wouldn't be here. As for what I heard and saw at the rodeo, I didn't know there was going to be a murder. I'll have to sort it out. I'll see if I can dig up anything and let you know. I thought you might--"

"Why, goddam you!" He was on his feet. "String me along? I know damn well you know something! I'll see that you choke on it!" He took a step. "For the record, Goodwin. Have you knowledge of any facts that would help to identify the murderer of Wade Eisler?"

"No."

To Wolfe: "Have you?"

"No, sir."

"Have you any involvement of any kind with any of those people?"

"No, sir."

"Wait a minute," I put in. "To avoid a possible future misunderstanding." I got my case from my pocket, took out a slip of paper, and displayed it to Wolfe. "This is a check for five thousand dollars, payable to you, signed by Lily Rowan."

"What's it for?" he demanded. "She owes me nothing."

"She wants to. It's a retainer. She asked me to go back to her place after they finished with me at the DA's office last night, and I did so. She didn't like Wade Eisler any better than the next one, but two things were biting her. First, he was killed at her house by someone she had invited there. She calls that an abuse of hospitality and she thought you would. Don't you?"

"Yes."

"No argument there. Second, the daughter of District Attorney Bowen is a friend of hers. They were at school together. She has known Bowen for years. He has been a guest both at her apartment and her place in the country. And at midnight last night an assistant DA phoned her and told her to be at his office in the Criminal Courts Building at ten o'clock this morning, and she phoned Bowen, and he said he couldn't allow his personal friendships to

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interfere with the functions of his staff. She then phoned the assistant DA and told him she would call him today and tell him what time it would be convenient for her to see him at her apartment"

"There's too many like her," Cramer muttered.

"But she has a point," I objected. "She had told you all she knew and answered your questions and signed a statement, and why ten o'clock?" To Wolfe: "Anyway, here's her check. She wants you to get the murderer before the police do, and let her phone the DA and tell him to come for him--or she and I will deliver him to the DA's office, either way. Of course I told her you wouldn't take the job on those terms, but you might possibly consider investigating the abuse of hospitality by one of her guests. I also told her you charge high fees, but she already knew that. I bring this up now because you just told Cramer you're not involved, and if you take this retainer you vrill be involved. I told Miss Rowan you probably wouldn't take it because you're already in the ninety per-cent bracket for the year and you hate to work."

He was glowering at me. He knew that I knew he wouldn't turn it down with Cramer there. "It will be a costly gratification of a pique," he said.

"I told her so. She can afford it."

"Her reason for hiring me is the most capricious in my experience. But I have not only eaten her bread and salt, I have eaten her grouse. I am in her debt. Mr. Cramer. I change my answer to your last question. I do have an involvement. My other answer holds. I have no information for you."

Cramer's jaw was clamped. "You know the law," he said, and wheeled and headed for the door.

When a visitor leaves the office it is my custom to precede him to the hall and the front door to let him out; but when it's Cramer and he's striding out in a huff I would have to hop on it to get ahead of him, which would be undignified, so I just follow to see that he doesn't take our hats from the shelf and tramp on them. When I emerged from the office Cramer was halfway down the hall, and after one glance I did hop on it. Out on the stoop, reaching a finger to the bell button, was Laura Jay.

I can outhop Cramer any day, but he was too far ahead and was

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opening the door when I reached it. Not wanting to give him an excuse to take me downtown, I didn't bump him. I braked. He said, "Good morning, Miss Jay. Come in."

I got Laura's eye and said, "Inspector Cramer is just leaving."

"I'm in no hurry," Cramer said, and backed up a step to give her room. "Come in, Miss Jay."

I saw it coming in her eyes--that is, I saw something was coming. They were at Cramer, not at me, but I saw the sudden sharp gleam of an idea, and then she acted on it. She came in all right, on the jump, through the air straight at Cramer, hands first reaching for his face. By instinct he should have jerked back, but experience is better than instinct. He ducked below her hands and came up against her with his arms around her, clamping her to him, leaving her nothing to paw but air. I got her wrists from the rear, pulled them to me, and crossed her arms behind her back.

"Okay," I said, "you can unwrap."

Cramer slipped his arms from under hers and backed away. "All right, Miss Jay," he said. "What's the idea?"

She tried to twist her head around. "Let me go," she demanded. "You're breaking my arm."

'Will you behave yourself?"

"Yes."

As I let go she started to tremble, but then she stiffened, pulling her shoulders back. "I guess I lost my head," she told Cramer. "I didn't expect to see you here. I do that sometimes, I just lose my head."

"It's a bad habit, Miss Jay. What time is your appointment with Nero Wolfe?"

"I haven't got an appointment."

"What do you want to see him about?"

"I don't want to see him. I came to see Archie Goodwin."

"What about?"

Before she could answer a voice came from behind Cramer. "Now what?" Wolfe was there, at the door to the office.

Cramer ignored him. "To see Goodwin about what?" he demanded.

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"I think I know," I said. "It's a personal matter. Strictly personal."

That's it," Laura said. "It's personal."

Cramer looked at me, and back at her. Of course the question was, if he took us downtown and turned us over to a couple of experts could they pry it out of us? He voted no. He spoke to me. "You heard me tell Wolfe he knows the law. So do you," and marched to the door, opened it, and was gone.

"Well?" Wolfe demanded.

I tried the door to make sure it was shut, and turned. "Miss Jay came to see me. I'll take her in the front room."

"No. The office." He turned and headed for the kitchen.

I allowed myself an inside grin. Thanks to my having produced the check with Lily's offer of a job in Cramer's presence, he was actually working. When Laura and I had entered the office he would emerge from the kitchen and station himself at the hole. On the office side the hole was covered by a picture of a waterfall, on the wall at eye level to the right of Wolfe's desk. On the other side, in a little alcove at the end of the hall, it was covered by a sliding panel, and with the panel pushed aside you could not only hear but also see through the waterfall. I had once stood there for three hours with a notebook, recording a conversation Wolfe was having with an embezzler.

Laura retrieved her handbag, a big gray leather one, from the floor where it had dropped when she went for Cramer, and I escorted her to the office, took her jacket and put it on the couch, moved a chair for her to face my desk, swiveled my chair around, and sat. I looked at her. She was a wreck. I wouldn't have known her, especially since I had previously seen her all rigged out, and now she was in a plain gray dress with a black belt. Her cheeks sagged, her hair straggled, and her eyes were red and puffed. You wouldn't suppose a dashing cowgirl could get into such a state.

"First," I said, "why? Why did you go for him?"

She swallowed. "I just lost my head." She swallowed again. "I ought to thank you for helping me, when he asked what I came to see you for. I didn't know what to say."

"You're welcome. What do you say if I ask you?"

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"I came to find out something. To find out if you told them what Cal told you yesterday. I know you must have because they've arrested him."

I shook my head. "They're holding him as a material witness because it was his rope and he found the body. I promised Cal I wouldn't repeat what he told me, and I haven't. If I did they'd have a motive for him, they couldn't ask for better, and they'd charge him with murder."

"You haven't told them? You swear you haven't?"

"I only swear on the witness stand and I'm not there yet. I have told no one, but I am now faced with a problem. Miss Rowan has hired Nero Wolfe to investigate the murder, and he will ask me for a full report of what happened there yesterday. I can't tell him what Cal told me because of my promise to Cal, and I'll have to tell him I am leaving something out, which he won't like. If Cal were available I would get his permission to tell Mr. Wolfe, but he isn't."

"Then you haven't even told Nero Wolfe?"

"No."

"Will you promise me you won't tell the police? That you'll never tell them no matter what happens?"

"Certainly not." I eyed her. "Use your head if you've found it again. Their charging Cal with murder doesn't depend only on me. They have found out that Eisler took a woman to his apartment Sunday night and they're going over it for fingerprints. If they find some of yours, and if they learn that you and Cal are good friends, as they will, he's in for it, and I would be a damn fool to wait till they get me on the stand under oath."

I turned a palm up. "You see, one trouble is, you and me talking, that you think Cal killed him and I know he didn't. You should be ashamed of yourself. You have known him two years and I only met him last week, but I know him better than you do. I can be fooled and have been, but when he got me aside yesterday and asked me how to go about taking some hide off a toad he was not getting set to commit a murder, and the murder of Wade Eisler was premeditated by whoever took Cal's rope. Not to mention how he looked and talked when he showed me the body. If I thought there was a chance that Cal killed him I wouldn't leave anything

T?ze Rodeo Murder 155

out when I report to Mr. Wolfe. But I can't promise to hang onto it no matter what happens."

"You can if you will," she said. "I don't think Cal killed him. I know he didn't. I did."

My eyes widened. "You did what? Killed Eisler?"

"Yes." She swallowed. "Don't you see how it is? Of course I've got to tell them I killed him, but when they arrest me Cal will say he killed him because I told him about Sunday night. But I'll say I didn't tell him about Sunday night, and it will be my word against his, and they'll think he's just trying to protect me. So it does depend on you. You've got to promise you won't tell them what Cal told you yesterday. Because I killed him, and why should you protect me? Why should you care what happens to me if I killed a man?"

I regarded her. "You know," I said, "at least you've answered my question, why you went for Cramer. You wanted to plant the idea that you're a holy terror. That wasn't so dumb, in fact it was half bright, but now listen to you. You might possibly sell it to the cops that you killed him, at least you could ball them up a while, but not me. When I went to the shack yesterday and found you there with Cal, the first thing he said was that you thought he had killed him. And now you--"

"Cal was wrong. How could I think he had killed him when I knew I had?"

"Nuts. I not only heard what he said, I saw his face, and I saw yours. You still think Cal killed him and you're acting like a halfwit."

Her head went down, her hands went up to cover her face, and she squeezed her breasts with her elbows. Her shoulders shook.

I sharpened my voice. "The very worst thing you could do would be to try telling the cops that you killed him. It would take them about ten minutes to trip you up, and then where would Cal be? But maybe you should tell them about Sunday night, but of course not that you told Cal about it. If they find your fingerprints in Eisler's apartment you'll have to account for them, and it will be better to give them the account before they ask for it. That won't be difficult; just tell them what happened."

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"They won't find my fingerprints," she said, or I thought she did. Her voice was muffled by her hands, still over her face.

"Did you say they won't find your fingerprints?" I asked.

"Yes. I'm sure they won't."

I gawked at her. It wasn't so much the words as the tone--or not the tone, muffled as it was, but something. Call it a crazy hunch, and you never know exactly what starts a hunch. It was so wild that I almost skipped it, but it never pays to pass a hunch. "You can't be sure," I said. "You must have touched something. I've been to a party in that apartment. When you entered did you stop in the hall with the marble statues?"

"No. He ... we went on through."

"To the living room. You stopped there?"

"Yes."

"Did he take you across to look at the birds in the cages? He always does. The cages are stainless steel, perfect for prints. Did you touch any of them?"

"No, I'm sure I didn't." She had dropped her hands and lifted her head.

"How close did you go to them?"

"Why . . . not very close. I'm sure I didn't touch them."

"So am 1.1 am also sure that you're a damn liar. There are no marble statues or bird cages in Eisler's apartment. You have never been there. What kind of a double-breasted fool are you, anyway? Do you go around telling lies just for the hell of it?"

Naturally I expected an effect, but not the one I got. She straightened up in her chair and gave me a straight look, direct and steady.

"I'm not a liar," she said. "I'm not a fool either, except about Cal Barrow. The kind of a life I've had a girl gets an attitude about men, or anyway I did. No monkey business. Keep your fences up and your cinch tight. Then I met Cal and I took another look, and after a while I guess you would say I was in love with him, but whatever you call it I know how I felt I thought I knew how he felt too, but he never mentioned it, and of course I didn't. I only saw him now and then, he was mostly up north, and when I came to New York for this rodeo here he was. I thought he was glad to

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see me, and I let him know I was glad to see him, but still he didn't mention it, and when two weeks went by and pretty soon we would scatter I was trying to decide to mention it myself, and then Sunday night Nan told me about Wade Eisler, how he had--"

"Nan Karlin?"

"Yes. He had told her he was having a party at his apartment, and she went with him, and when they got there there wasn't any party, and he got rough, and she got rough too, and she got away."

"She told you this Sunday night?"

"Yes, when she got back to the hotel she came to my room. It's next to hers. Then there was this ear." She lifted a hand to push her hair back over her left ear. "I'm telling you the whole thing. I got careless with a bronc Sunday night and got bruised by a buckle, and I didn't want to admit to Cal that I didn't know how to keep clear around a horse. So when we met for breakfast yesterday morning I told him--you know what I told him. I guess I thought when he heard that, how a man had tried to bulldog me, he would see that it was time to mention something. I know I was a damn fool, I said I'm a fool when it comes to Cal Barrow, but I guess I don't know him as well as I thought I did. He never goes looking for trouble. I thought he would just ride herd on me, and that would be all right, I wanted him to. I never dreamt he would kill him."

"He didn't. How many times do I have to tell you he didn't? Who else did Nan tell about it?"

"She was going to tell Roger, Roger Dunning. She asked me if I thought she should tell Roger, and I said yes, because he had asked us to go easy with Eisler, not to sweat him unless we had to, so I thought he ought to know. Nan said she would tell him right away."

"Who else did she tell?"

"I guess not anybody. She made me promise not to tell Mel."

"Mel Fox?"

"Yes. She and Mel are going to tie up, and she was afraid he might do something. I'm sure she didn't tell him."

"Did you tell him?"

"Of course not. I promised Nan I wouldn't."

"Well." I lifted my hands and dropped them. "You're about the

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rarest specimen I've ever come across. I know something about geniuses, I work for one, but you're something new, an anti-genius. It wouldn't do any good to try to tell you--"

The phone rang, and I swiveled my chair around to get it. It was Lon Cohen of the Gazette. He wanted to know how much I would take for an exclusive on who roped Wade Eisler and why, and I told him I did and when I typed my confession I would make an extra carbon for him but at the moment I was busy.

As I reached to cradle the receiver Wolfe's voice sounded behind me, not loud but clear enough though it was coming through the waterfall that covered the hole. "Archie, don't move. Don't turn around. She has taken a gun from her bag and is pointing it at you. Miss Jay. Your purpose is clear. With Mr. Goodwin dead there will be no one to disclose what you told Mr. Barrow at breakfast yesterday but Mr. Barrow himself, and you will deny it. You will of course be doomed since you can't hope to escape the due penalty for killing Mr. Goodwin, but you accept it in order to save Mr. Barrow from the doom you think you have contrived for him. A desperate expedient but a passable one; but it's no good now because I have heard you. You can't kill me too; you don't know where I am. Drop the gun. I will add that Mr. Goodwin has worked with me many years; I know him well; and I accept his conclusion that Mr. Barrow did not kill Wade Eisler. He is not easily gulled. Drop the gun."

I had stayed put, but it wasn't easy. Of course tingles were chasing up and down my spine, but worse than that I felt so damned silly, sitting there with my back to her while Wolfe made his speech. When he stopped it was too much. I swiveled. Her hand with the gun was resting on her knee, and she was staring at it, apparently wondering how it got there. I got up and took it, an old snub-nosed Graber, and flipped the cylinder. Fully loaded.

As I jiggled the cartridges out Wolfe entered from the hall. As he approached he spoke. "Archie. Does Mr. Barrow cherish this woman?"

"Sure he does. This could even key him up to mentioning it."

"Heaven help him." He glared down at her. "Madam, you are the most dangerous of living creatures. However, here you are, and

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I may need you." He turned his head and roared, "Fritz!" Fritz must have been in the hall; he appeared immediately. "This is Miss Laura Jay," Wolfe told him. "Show her to the south room, and when lunch is ready take her a tray."

"I'm going," Laura said. "I'm going to--I'm going."

"No. You'd be up to some mischief within the hour. I am going to expose a murderer, and I have accepted Mr. Goodwin's conclusion that it will not be Mr. Barrow, and you will probably be needed. This is Mr. Fritz Brenner. Go with him."

"But I must-"

"Confound it, will you go? Mr. Cramer would like to know why you came to see Mr. Goodwin. Do you want me to ring him and tell him?"

She went. I got her jacket from the couch and handed it to Fritz, and he convoyed her out and to the elevator. Wolfe commanded me, "Get Mr. Dunning," and went to his desk and sat. I put the Graber and the cartridges in a drawer, looked in the book for the number of the Paragon Hotel, got at the phone, and dialed. The girl said Dunning's room didn't answer, and I asked her to have him paged. When he couldn't be found I left a message, and tried Madison Square Garden, and finally got him.

Wolfe took his phone. I stayed on mine. "Mr. Dunning? This is Nero Wolfe. We met yesterday at the home of Miss Lily Rowan. Miss Rowan has hired me to investigate what she calls an abuse of her hospitality--the death by violence of one of her guests--and I would like to see you. If you will please come to my office, say at a quarter past two?"

"I can't," Dunning said. "Impossible. Anyway, I've told the police everything I know. I suppose Miss Rowan has a right to hire you if she wants to, but I don't see why . . . anyhow, I can't. It's a nightmare, this is, a nightmare, but we're going to have a performance tonight if I live that long."

"Murder hatches nightmares. Did you tell the police about Miss Karlin's visit to Mr. Eisler's apartment Sunday night?"

Silence. Five seconds.

"Did you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

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"That won't do, Mr. Dunning. I can ask the police that question if I must, but I would rather not. I would prefer to discuss it with you, and with Miss Karlin and Mr. Fox. If you will please be here with them at a quarter past two? A yes or no will be sufficient. It might be unwise to discuss it on the phone."

Another silence. Six seconds.

"I'll be there."

"With Miss Karlin and Mr. Fox?"

"Yes."

"Good. I'll expect you." He hung up and looked at me. "Archie. Will that woman try climbing out a window?"

"No. She's hooked."

"Very well." He looked up at the wall clock. "Lunch in forty minutes. Report."

rv

When the company arrived I wasn't there to let them in. They came five minutes early, at ten after two, and I was upstairs with Laura Jay. The south room is two flights up, on the same floor as my room, in the rear, above Wolfe's room. I left the lunch table before Wolfe finished his coffee, and mounted the two flights, partly to make sure she was still there, partly to see if she had eaten anything from the tray Fritz had taken up, and partly to tell her that Nan and Mel and Roger Dunning were expected and if Wolfe wanted her to join the party later I would either come and get her or send Fritz for her. All three purposes were served. She was there, standing at a window, the sun setting fire to her honey colored hair. There was only one Creole fritter left on the plate and no salad in the bowl. I had expected her to insist on going down with me instead of waiting for a summons, but she didn't. Just for curiosity I asked her if she had intended to pull the trigger as soon as I hung up or wait until I turned around, and she said I ought to know she wouldn't shoot a man in the back.

When I descended to the office they were there--Roger Dunning

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in the red leather chair, and Nan Karlin and Mel Fox in two of the yellow ones facing Wolfe's desk. When I entered and circled around them I got no glances; they were too intent on Wolfe, who was speaking.

". . . and the source of my information is not important. If you persist in your denial you will merely he postponing your embarrassment. The police have learned, not from me, that Eisler took a woman to his apartment Sunday night, and they are going over it for fingerprints. Almost certainly they will find some of yours, Miss Karlin, and Mr. Goodwin has told me that all of you permitted them to take samples last evening. You're in a pickle. If you refuse to discuss it with me I advise you to tell the police about it at once, before they confront you with it."

Nan turned her head to look at Mel, and I had her full-face. Even without her pink silk shirt and Levis and boots, in a blouse and skirt and pumps, she would have been spotted by any New Yorker as an alien. The skin of a girl's face doesn't get that deep tone from week ends at the beach or even a two weeks' go-now-pay later trip to Bermuda.

Mel Fox, meeting her look, said, "What the hell."

Nan went back to Wolfe. "Laura told you," she said. "Laura Jay. She's the only one that knew about it except Roger Dunning and he didn't."

"He says he didn't," Mel said. His eyes went to Dunning. "You wouldn't be letting out anybody's cinch, would you, Roger?"

"Of course not," Dunning said. It came out a little squeaky, and he cleared his throat. His narrow, bony face was just a sliver. I have noticed over and over that under strain a fat face gets fatter and a long face gets longer. He asked Wolfe, "Did I tell you?"

"No." To Nan: "You say that Miss Jay and Mr. Dunning are the only ones who knew about it. When did you tell them?"

"Sunday night when I got back to the hotel. Laura's room is next to mine and I went in and told her. I thought I ought to tell Roger and so did she, and when I went to my room I phoned him and he came and I told him."

"Why him? Are you on terms of intimacy with him?"

"With him? Good lord. Him?"

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"The question arises. It is conceivable that he was so provoked by the outrage that he decided to Mil Eisler, moved perhaps by an unavowed passion. Is it not?"

"Look at him," Nan said.

We did so. With no desire to slander him, it must be admitted that he didn't look like a man apt to burn with passion, avowed or unavowed.

"I never killed a man yet," he said. "Why Nan told me, she thought she ought to and she was absolutely right. It was partly my fault she had gone with Eisler to his apartment, I had asked the girls to let him have a little rope as long as he didn't get too frisky, I knew they could take care of themselves, and Nan wanted to tell me that if he ever came near her again she would give him worse than a scratch, and I couldn't blame her."

"Why did you ask them to give him rope?"

"Well." Dunning licked his lips. "In a way I was hog-tied. If Eisler hadn't put up the money we wouldn't have made it to New York this year, or anyhow it wouldn't have been easy. I didn't know much about him when I first signed up with him except that he had the money. Anyhow he was all right except with the girls, and I didn't know he was that kind. I knew if he didn't pull up there might be trouble, but I figured it wouldn't do any good to tell him so. What could I do? I couldn't fence him out. When Nan told me about Sunday night I thought that might stop him, it might show him that a girl that can handle a bronc can handle his kind."

"Did you tell him that?"

"No, I didn't. I hoped I wouldn't have to. But I decided I would keep my eyes open. Up there yesterday when I noticed he wasn't on the terrace I looked around for him some, inside and outside. When I couldn't find him and I saw all the girls were there I thought he had up and gone, and that suited me fine."

"What time was that? When you looked around and couldn't find him."

Dunning shook his head. "I can't make it close. The police wanted me to and I did the best I could, but all I can say, it wasn't long after Miss Rowan went in for some more coffee--maybe three

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minutes, maybe more than that. Then when I went back in after looking outside Cal Barrow said his rope was gone and he was looking for it, and I wondered if Eisler had took it but I couldn't guess why."

"How many people did you tell about Miss Karlin's experience at Eisler's apartment?"

"How many?" Dunning frowned. "No people at all. What good would that do?"

"You told no one?"

"No."

"And you haven't told the police?"

"No." He licked his lips. "I figured it would just sick them on Nan, and I couldn't see any sense in that. What you asked her about her and me, there's nothing to that, she's just one of the girls, but I know her pretty well and she wouldn't kill a man just because he had pawed at her. I'd like to ask you a question. You say Miss Rowan has hired you to investigate?"

"Yes."

"You weren't there when it happened, and neither was Goodwin. Is that right?"

"Yes."

"But Miss Rowan was, and she hires you. She's paying you. So you're not going to investigate her, naturally. I got the idea there yesterday that she didn't Like Eisler any too well. I don't suppose you're interested in that? I suppose you think it has to be one of us, the boys and girls and me?"

Wolfe grunted. He turned his head. "Archie. I haven't asked you. Did Miss Rowan kill Mr. Eisler?"

"No,- sir."

"Then that's settled. Mr. Dunning, obviously it was one of you. By the way, Miss Karlin, I haven't asked you: did you kill Mr. Eisler?"

"No."

"Mr. Fox. Did you?"

"No."

"When did you first learn of Miss Karlin's visit to Eisler's apartment Sunday night?"

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"Today. Two hours ago. Roger told me after you phoned him. If I'd knew about it Sunday night or yesterday morning Eisler wouldn't of got killed there yesterday because he wouldn't of been there. He would of been in bed or maybe in the hospital."

"Then it's a pity you didn't know."

"Yeah. Roger told me because you told him to bring me along, he didn't know why and I don't either, but I can make a guess. You're a friend of Harvey Greve's."

"Mr. Goodwin is."

"Yeah. So Harvey tells him things. He tells him about Nan and me, that we're fixing to get hitched, which we are, and you--"

"Not Harvey," Nan said. "Laura. Laura told him. Because they've arrested Cal."

"All right, maybe Laura." Mel stayed at Wolfe. "So that looks like a good setup. Eisler went after my girl and I killed him. So you tell Roger to bring me along. I understand you're about as slick as they come, you can bend a loop around a corner, but let's see you try. Here's Roger says he didn't tell anybody about Nan going there. Here's Nan says she didn't tell anybody but Laura and Roger. So I didn't know about it unless Eisler told me himself, and that don't seem practical, and he's dead. So here I am and it's your move."

"You did know about it!" It was Laura Jay's voice and it came from the waterfall that covered the hole, which was only a couple of arms' lengths from Roger Dunning, and he jerked around. I bounced up and started for the hall, but had got only halfway when here came Laura.

She went straight to Mel and stopped, facing him, and spoke. "You knew about it because I told you." She turned to Wolfe: "Yesterday. I told him yesterday morning. I thought he--"

She was interrupted. Nan flew at her and smacked her on the side of the head.

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Somehow when two women tie into each other it's harder to separate them than it is two men. It's not just that you don't want to hurt a woman if you can help it; they're actually more wriggly and you're more apt to get scratched or bit; and when it's two active cowgirls it's a real problem. However, I had help. Roger and Mel were closer than I was, and Roger had Laura's shoulders, and Mel had Nan around the waist, when I reached them. They yanked them apart, and I merely stepped in between. Laura wriggled free from Roger, but I was there. Mel had Nan wrapped up.

"Pfui," Wolfe said. "Miss Jay, your talent for turmoil is extraordinary. Archie, put her--"

"She's a liar," Nan said. She was panting a little, and her eyes were blazing. "I knew it was her. I knew she--"

"Hold it, Nan," Mel commanded her. His eyes were narrowed at Wolfe. "So you had it rigged good, huh? So you had her all primed, huh?"

"I did not." Wolfe was emphatic. "This is becoming farcical. You were right, up to a point, Miss Karlin. Miss Jay, concerned on account of Mr. Barrow, came to see Mr. Goodwin, to tell him of your experience at Bister's apartment. She stated that you made her promise not to tell Mr. Fox, and that she had kept the promise. Thinking it well to have her at hand, I had her shown to a room upstairs and told her to stay there. Her abrupt entry surprised me as much as you. Miss Jay, did you tell Mr. Goodwin that you had not told Mr. Fox?"

"Yes." Laura's chin was up.

"But you now say you had?"

"Yes."

"Precisely where and when?"

"Yesterday morning at the hotel. In the lobby after breakfast."

"You had breakfast with Mr. Barrow. Was he present?"

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"No. He went to buy some cigarettes, and I saw Mel there and went and told him."

"Look here, Laura," Mel said. "Look at me."

Her head came around, slowly, and she met his eyes, straight.

"You know darned well that ain't so," he said. "This slicker talked you into it. He told you that was the way to get Cal out of trouble. Didn't he?"

"No."

"You mean you can stand there and look me in the eye and lie like that?"

"I don't know, Mel, I never tried."

"Listen, Laura," Roger Dunning said, to her back. "If it's on account of Cal, I don't think you have to. I've got a lawyer on it and he'll soon have him out on bail, thirty thousand dollars. He may be out already. They can't charge him with murder unless they can show some reason why he wanted to kill Eisler, and there wasn't any."

"It's not just her," Mel said. He had backed Nan up and moved in front of her. He turned to me. "You're slick too, huh?"

"Not very," I said. "I manage somehow."

"I bet you do. I bet you're pretty good at answering questions. What if I asked you where you was yesterday while someone was killing Eisler?"

"That's easy. I was driving a car. Driving Mr. Wolfe home and then back to Sixty-third Street."

"Was anybody else along?"

"Nope. Just us two."

"Did you see anybody on the way that knows you?"

"No."

"Did anybody here see you except Wolfe?"

"No, I didn't come in. I wanted to get back in time for the roping--I mean the contest, not roping Eisler. You're asking pretty good questions, but you'll hit the same snag with me as with Cal Barrow. You'll have to show some reason why I wanted to kill Eisler."

"Yeah. Or why Wolfe would want you to, the man you work

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for. Or why that Miss Rowan would, the woman that's hired him." He turned to Wolfe. "You better look out with this Laura Jay. She ain't cut out for a liar." He turned to Laura. "I'll he having a talk with you, Laura. Private." He turned to Roger Dunning. "This lawyer you got to get bail for Cal, is he any good?"

Roger's long narrow face was even longer. "I think he's all right. He seems to know his way around."

"I want to see him. Come on, Nan. You come along. We're not going to get--"

The doorbell rang. Mel had Nan under control, so I went. A glance through the glass of the front door showed me a hundred and ninety pounds of sergeant out on the stoop--Sergeant Purley Stebbins of Homicide. I proceeded, put the chain bolt on, opened the door to the two-inch crack the chain permitted, and said politely, "No dues today. Out of stock."

"Open up, Goodwin." Like a sergeant. "I want Nan Karlin."

"I don't blame you. She's a very attractive--"

"Can it. Open up. I've got a warrant for her and I know she's here."

There was no use making an issue of it, since there had probably been an eye on the house ever since Cramer left. As for the warrant, of course the prints she had left at Eisler's apartment had caught up with her. But Wolfe doesn't approve of cops' taking anyone in his house, no matter who. "What if you brought the wrong warrant?" I asked.

He got it from a pocket and stuck it through the crack, and I took it and looked it over. "Okay," I said, "but watch her, she might bite." Removing the chain, swinging the door open, and handing him the warrant as he crossed the sill, I followed him to the office. He didn't make a ceremony of it. He marched across to Nan, displayed the paper, and spoke. "Warrant to take you as a material witness in the murder of Wade Eisler. You're under arrest. Come along."

My concern was Laura. As like as not, she would blurt out that he should take Mel too because she had told him about it, so I lost no time getting to her, but she didn't utter a peep. She stood

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stiff, her teeth clamped on her lip. Wolfe let out a growl, hut no words. Nan gripped Mel's arm. Mel took the warrant, read it through, and told Stebbins, "This don't say what for."

"Information received."

"Where you going to take her?"

"Ask the District Attorney's office."

"I'm getting a lawyer for her."

"Sure. Everybody ought to have a lawyer."

"I'm going along."

"Not with us. Come on, Miss Karlin."

Wolfe spoke. "Miss Karlin. You will of course be guided by your own judgment and discretion. I make no suggestion. I merely inform you that you are under no compulsion to speak until you have consulted an attorney."

Stebbins and Mel Fox both spoke at once. Stebbins said, "She didn't ask you anything." Mel said, "You goddam snake." Stebbins touched Nan's elbow and she moved. I stayed with Laura as they headed out, Nan and Stebbins in front and Mel and Roger following; seeing them go might touch her off. She still had her teeth on her lip. When I heard the front door close I went and took a look and came back.

I expected to find Wolfe scowling at her, but he wasn't. He was leaning back with his eyes closed and his lips moving. He was pushing out his lips, puckered, and then drawing them in--out and in, out and in. He only does that, and always does it, when he has found a crack somewhere, or thinks he has, and is trying to see through. I am not supposed to interrupt the process, so I crossed to my desk, but didn't sit, because Laura was still on her feet, and a gentleman should not seat himself when a lady or a wildcat is standing.

Wolfe opened his eyes. "Archie."

"Yes, sir."

"It would help to know whether Miss Jay had told Mr. Fox or not. Is there any conceivable way of finding out?"

I raised a brow. If that was the crack he had been trying to see through he was certainly hard up for cracks. "Not barehanded,"

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I said. "It would take a scientist. I know where you can get one with a lie detector. Or you might try a hypnotist."

"Pfui. Miss Jay, which is it now, now that Miss Karlin is in custody? Had you told Mr. Fox?"

"Yes."

"Yesterday morning in the hotel lobby?"

"Yes."

"I suppose you understand what that will let you in for--or rather, I suppose you don't. You will be--"

The phone rang. I got it. "Nero Wolfe's office, Archie Goodwin speaking."

"This is Cal, Archie. Do you know where Laura is?"

"I might have an idea. Where are you?"

"I'm at the hotel. I'm out on bail. They say she went out this morning and she hasn't been back, and she's not at the Garden. I thought maybe she might have been to see you."

"Hold the wire a minute. I'll go to another phone."

I got my memo pad, wrote on it, Cal Barrow out on hail looking for Laura, get him here & you can check her, tore off the sheet, and handed it to Wolfe. He read it and looked up at the clock. His afternoon date with the orchids was at four.

"No," he said. "You can. Get her out of here. Of course you must see him first."

I resumed at the phone. "I think I know where to find her. It's a little complicated, and the best way--"

"Where is she?"

"I'll bring her. What's your room number?"

"Five-twenty-two. Where is she?"

"I'll have her there in half an hour, maybe less. Stay in your room."

I hung up and faced Laura. "That was Cal. He's out on bail and he wants to see you. I'll take--"

"Cal! Where is he?"

"I'll take you to him, but I'm going to see him first. I don't ask you to promise because you'd promise anything, but if you try any tricks I'll show you a new way to handle a calf. Where's your jacket?"

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"It's upstairs."

"Go get it. If I went for it you might not be here when I came back."

VI

The Paragon Hotel, around the corner from Eighth Avenue on 54th Street, not exactly a dump but by no means a Waldorf, is convenient for performers at the Garden--of course not including the stars. When Laura and I entered there were twenty or more cow persons in the lobby, both male and female, some in costume and some not. We went to the elevator, and to my surprise she stuck to the program as agreed upon in the taxi, getting out at the fourth floor to go to her room. I stayed in, left at the fifth, found Room 522 and knocked on the door, and it opened before I was through knocking.

"Oh," Cal said. "Where is she?"

He was still in the same outfit he had worn yesterday--bright blue shirt, blue jeans, and fancy boots. His face wasn't any fresher than his clothes.

"She's in her room," I said. "She wanted to fix her hair. Before she joins us I want to ask you something. Do I see a chair in there?"

"Why sure. Come on in and sit." He gave me room and I entered. There were two chairs, about all there was space for, what with the bed and chest of drawers and a little table. I took one. Cal stood and yawned, wide.

"Excuse me," he said. "I'm a little short on sleep."

"So am I. Some things have been happening, but Laura can tell you about them. Miss Rowan has hired Nero Wolfe to investigate, and he knows about what you told me yesterday. Laura can tell you how he found out. I haven't told the cops or anyone else."

He nodded. "I figured you hadn't or they would have asked me. I guess you've got your tongue in straight. I'm mighty glad. I guess I picked the right man to tell."

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"Frankly, you could have done worse. Now you can tell me something else. Yesterday morning you met Laura downstairs and had hreakfast with her. Remember?"

"Sure I remember."

"Mel Fox says that when you and Laura went into the lobby after breakfast you left her and went to the cigar counter to buy cigarettes, and he went and had a little talk with you. Remember that?"

"I don't seem to." He frowned. "I didn't buy no cigarettes. I got a carton here in my room. Mel must of got mixed up."

"I'd like to be sure about this, Cal. Go back to it, it was only yesterday. You and Laura had breakfast in the coffee shop?"

"Yes."

"Then you went into the lobby together. If you didn't leave her to buy cigarettes, maybe it was to buy a paper. The newsstand is--"

"Wait a minute. We didn't go into the lobby. We left the coffee shop by the street door. We went down to the Garden to look at some things."

"Then it might have been when you came back. You went into the lobby then."

"We didn't come back. When we left the Garden we went up to that Miss Rowan's. I guess you might tell me why this is so particular. What does Mel say we talked about?"

"You'll know pretty soon. I had to be sure--"

There was a knock at the door, and he lost no time getting to it. It was Laura. She was running true to form. We had agreed on fifteen minutes, and it had been only ten. The reunion was mighty dramatic. Cal said, "Well, hello." Laura said, "Hello, Cal." He stood aside so she wouldn't have to brush against him as she entered. I arose and said, "You fudged a little but I expected you to." Cal shut the door and came and said, "Gosh, you look like you got throwed by a camel."

I took command. "Look," I told them, "when I leave you'll have all the time there is, but now I've got some talking to do and you can listen. Sit down."

"You've already talked," Laura said. "What did you tell him?"

"Nothing yet but I'm going to. If you don't want to listen I know

172 3 at Wolfe's Door

who will--Inspector Cramer if I phone him and say I'm ready to unload. Sit down!"

Laura sat in the other chair. Cal sat on the edge of the bed. "I guess you got the drop on us, Archie," he said. "I hope you don't feel as mean as you sound."

"I don't feel mean at all." I sat. "I'm going to tell you a love story. I take valuable time to tell it because if I don't God only knows what Laura will be up to next. Yesterday she told you a colossal lie. Today she told me she killed Wade Eisler. Then she shut up, both of you! Then she pointed a loaded gun at my back and would have plugged me if she hadn't been interrupted. Then she told another lie, trying to frame Mel Fox for the murder. That's-"

"No!" Laura cried. "That was the truth!"

"Nuts. You and Cal didn't go to the lobby after breakfast. You went to the Garden and from there to Miss Rowan's. You didn't tell Mel Fox what you said you did. You were framing him, or trying to."

"You're talking pretty fast," Cal said. "Maybe you'd better slow down and back it up a little. If you can. What was the lie she told me yesterday?"

"That she had gone to Eisler's apartment Sunday night. She hadn't. She has never been there. It was Nan Karlin that Eisler took there Sunday night, and Nan told Laura about it when she got back to the hotel. Laura told you she had been there for two reasons: she didn't want to admit she had been careless about a horse and got her ear bruised, and the real reason, she hoped it would make you realize it was time to break out the bridle. All for love. You are her dream man. She wants to hook you. She wants you to take her for better or for worse, and she has done her damnedest to make it worse."

"I didn't say that!" Laura cried.

"Not in those words. Was that why you told him that lie or wasn't it? Try telling the truth once."

"All right, it was!"

Cal stood up. "You might go and leave us alone awhile. You can come back."

The Rodeo Murder 173

"This is a respectable hotel. A gentleman isn't supposed to be in his room alone with a lady. I'll go pretty soon, after I fill in a little. Sit down. She came today and told me she killed Eisler because she thought you had--she still thinks so--and it was her fault and she wanted to take the rap. When I showed her that wouldn't work she took a gun from her bag--she had thoughtfully brought it along--when my back was turned, and got set to let me have it, the idea being that I was the only one who knew you had a motive. She can tell you why that didn't work either. Then--" "She wouldn't of shot you," Cal said.

"The hell she wouldn't. Then Mel and Nan and Roger came, and she got another idea. She announced that she had told Mel about Nan going to Eisler's place Sunday night, the idea being to give Mel a motive for killing Eisler. She said she told him yesterday morning when you and she went to the lobby after breakfast and you went to buy cigarettes. I have now stepped on that one." I turned to Laura. "You'd better see Mel and tell him. Tell him you had a fit."

I returned to Cal. "Of course that's fairly thick, trying to dump a murder on a guy, but after all, she would have dumped it on herself if she could. She tried that first, so I admit I should make allowances. I'm telling you all this for three reasons: first, so you'll know what she's capable of and you'll head her off. No one else can. If she keeps on having ideas there'll be hell to pay and you'll probably do the paying. Second, I want you both to realize that whoever killed Eisler is going to get tagged, and the sooner the better. It's one of six people: Nan Karlin, Anna Casado, Harvey Greve, Mel Fox, and Roger Dunning and his wife. If you know of any reason, anything at all, why one of them might have wanted Eisler dead, I expect you to tell me and tell me now."

| "You say Laura still thinks I killed him," Cal said.

I "She may be losing her grip on that. After the way her other sf ideas have panned out she must be shaky on that one." I looked

I at her. "Make it hypothetical, Laura. If Cal didn't, who did?"

; "I don't know."

i "What about Harvey Greve? He's a friend of mine, but I'll over

I look that if he's it. Could he have had a motive?"

174 3 at Wolfe's Door

"I don't know."

"What about Roger Dunning? Did Eisler make passes at his wife?"

"If he did I never saw him. Neither did anybody else. She's not well, you saw her--why would he? With all the girls to paw at. She must be nearly fifty."

Ellen Dunning probably wasn't a day over forty, but I admit she was a little faded. I turned to Cal. 'Tour turn. If you didn't kill him who did?"

He shook his head. "You got me. Does it have to be one of them six?"

"Yes."

"Then I pass. I just couldn't guess."

"It will take more than a guess. My third reason for taking up your time, not to mention mine: I wanted to have another look at you and listen to you some more. You're the only one with a known motive, and I'm the one that knows it. Nero Wolfe has bought my conclusion that you're out, and I haven't told the cops, and if I'm wrong I'm sunk. Besides, Laura would have the laugh on me, and I'd hate that. Did you kill him?"

"I'll tell you, Archie." He was actually grinning at me, and there was nothing but me between him and a murder trial. "I wouldn't want her to have the laugh on me, either. And she won't."

"Okay." I got up. "For God's sake keep an eye on her. Do you know Harvey's room number?"

"Sure. He's down the hall. Five-thirty-one."

I went.

Knocking on the door of Room 531, first normal and then loud, got no result. I intended to see Harvey. He might be down in the lobby, and if he wasn't I would try the Garden. There was no hurry about getting back to the office, since it was only four-thirty and Wolfe wouldn't be down from the plant rooms until six. Taking the elevator down, I found that there were more people in the lobby than when I came. Moving around, I didn't see Harvey, but I saw a man I knew, standing over in a corner chinning with a couple of cowboys. It was Fred Durkin. Fred, a free-lance, was second-best of the three operatives whom Wolfe considers good

The Rodeo Murder 175

enough to trust with errands when we need help on a job. I looked at my watch: 4:34. Nearly an hour and a half since I had left with Laura, time enough for Wolfe to get Fred on the phone, brief him, and put him to work. Had he? Of course it could be that Fred was there on a job for one of the agencies that used him, but that would have been quite a coincidence and I don't like coincidences.

That question would have to wait for an answer. Knowing that Harvey Greve liked a drink when one was handy, I crossed the lobby and entered the bar. The crowd there was smaller but noisier. No Harvey, but there were booths along the wall, and I strolled back for a look, and found him. He was in a booth, deep in conversation with a man. Neither of them saw me, and I went on by, circled and backtracked, returned to the lobby, and on out to the street.

The man with Harvey was Saul Panzer. Saul is not only the first-best of the three men Wolfe uses for errands, he is the best operative south of the North Pole. That settled it. Fred could have been a coincidence, but not both of them. Wolfe had got busy on the phone the minute I was out of the house, or darned soon after What had stung him? No answer. At Ninth Avenue I flagged a taxi. When I gave the hackie the number on West 35th Street, he said, "What a honor. Archie Goodwin in person. Your name in the paper again but no pitcher this time. Stranglin' a guy with a lasso right on Park Avenue, can you beat that? Whodunit?"

I'm all for fame, but I was too busy guessing to smirk.

The hackie had another honor coming. When the cab rolled to a stop in front of the old brownstone and I climbed out, a man appeared from behind a parked car and spoke to him. It was Sergeant Purley Stebbins. He said to the hackie, "Hold it, driver. Police." He said to me, "You're under arrest. I've got a warrant." He took a paper from a pocket and offered it.

He was enjoying it. He would have enjoyed even more to see me squirm, so I didn't. I didn't bother to look at the paper. "Information received?" I asked politely. "Or just on general principles?"

"The inspector will tell you. We'll use this cab. Get in."

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I obeyed. He climbed in beside me and told the driver, "Two thirty West Twentieth," and we rolled.

I chose to snub him. He was of course expecting me to try some appropriate cracks, so of course I didn't. I didn't open my trap from the time I climbed in the cab until he ushered me into the office of Inspector Cramer, which is on the third floor of the dingy old building that houses the precinct. I didn't open it even then. I waited until I was in a chair at the end of darner's desk, and he said, "I've been going over your statement, Goodwin, and I want to know more about your movements yesterday afternoon. The District Attorney does too, but I'll have a go at it first. You left with Wolfe, to drive him home, at twelve minutes after three. Right?"

I spoke. "It's all in my statement, and I answered a thousand questions, some of them a dozen times. That's enough. I am now clamming, unless and until you tell me why I am suddenly grabbed. If you think you dug up something, what?"

"That will develop as we go along. You left with Wolfe at three twelve?"

I leaned back and yawned.

He regarded me. He looked up at Stebbins, who was standing. Stebbins said, "You know him. He hasn't said a word since I took him."

Cramer looked at me. "A woman phoned headquarters this afternoon and said she saw you there yesterday at half past three on the terrace in the rear of the penthouse. She was sure about the time. She didn't give her name. I don't have to tell you that if Wolfe came home in a taxi we'll find the driver. You left with him at three-twelve?" '

"Thanks for the warning. What time did the woman phone?"

"Three-thirty-nine."

I looked at it. Laura and I had got to the hotel about twenty-five to four. The first thing on my program when I got loose would be to wring her neck and toss her in the river. "Okay," I said, "naturally you're curious. You say the DA is too, so it will be a long discussion. I'll talk after I make a phone call. May I use your phone?"

The Rodeo Murder 177

"In my hearing."

"Certainly, it's your phone."

He moved it across and I got it and dialed. Fritz answered and I asked him to buzz the plant rooms. After a wait Wolfe's voice came, cranky, as it always is when he is interrupted up there.

"Yes?"

"Me. I'm with Cramer in his office. When I got home Stebbins was waiting for me out front with a warrant. A woman, name unknown, phoned the police that she saw me at half past three yesterday afternoon on Miss Rowan's terrace. If you think you'll need me tomorrow you'd better get Parker. Of the two contradictory statements you sent me to check, the first one is true. Tell Fritz to save some of the veal knuckle for me. He can warm it over tomorrow."

"At half past three yesterday afternoon you were with me in the car."

"I know it, but they don't. Cramer would give a month's pay to prove I wasn't."

I hung up and sat back. "Where were we1? Oh yes. I left with Mr. Wolfe at three-twelve. Next question?"

vn

At 10:39 Wednesday morning, standing at the curb on Leonard Street waiting for an empty taxi, I said to Nathaniel Parker, the lawyer, "It's a dirty insult. Did you say five hundred?"

He nodded. "It is rather a slap, isn't it? As your attorney, I could hardly suggest a higher figure. And of course the cost will be much --here comes one." He stepped off the curb and raised an arm to stop an approaching cab.

The insult, having my bail set at a measly five C's, one-sixtieth of Cal Barrow's, was merely an insult. The injuries were what I would some day, preferably that one, get even for. I had spent fourteen hours in a detention room with too much heat and not enough air; I had asked for corned-beef sandwiches and got ham

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and rubbery cheese; I had been asked the same questions over and over by four different county and city employees, none of whom had a sense of humor; I had been served lukewarm coffee in a paper thing that leaked; I had not been allowed to use the phone; I had been told three times to take a nap on a bumpy couch and had been roused for more questions just as I was fading out; and I had been asked to sign a statement that had four mistakes in content, three misspelled words, and five typographical errors. And at the end of it all, which must have cost the taxpayers at least a thousand bucks, counting overhead, they were exactly where they had been when they started. After climbing out of the taxi in front of the old brownstone and thanking Parker for the lift, I mounted the stoop, let myself in, and headed for the office to tell Wolfe that I would be available as soon as I had showered, shaved, brushed my teeth, cleaned my nails, brushed my hair, dressed, and had breakfast. It was five minutes past eleven, so he would be down from the plant rooms.

But he wasn't. The overgrown chair behind his desk was empty. Four of the yellow chairs were grouped in front of his desk, facing it, and Fritz was emerging from the front room carrying two more of them. On the couch at the far side at right angles to my desk two people sat holding hands--Cal Barrow and Laura Jay. As I entered Cal jerked his hand away and stood up.

"We came a little early," he said. "We thought you might tell us what's up."

"Roping contest," I said. "I run down the block and you snare me from the stoop. Orchids for prizes." I turned to Fritz. "There's a mermaid in the sink." I wheeled and went to the kitchen, and in a moment he came.

"Where is he?" I demanded.

"In his room with Saul and Fred. Your tie's crooked, Archie, and your--"

"I fell off a horse. Having a party?"

"Yes. Mr. Wolfe-"

"What time?"

The Rodeo Murder 179

"I was told they would come at half past eleven. The lady and gentleman on the couch--"

"Came early to hold hands. Excuse my manners, I spent the night with louts and it rubbed off on me. I've got to rinse it off. Could you possibly bring up toast and coffee in eight minutes?"

"Easy. Seven. Your orange juice is in the refrigerator." He went to the range.

I got the glass of juice from the refrigerator, got a spoon and stirred it, took a healthy sip, and headed for the hall and the stairs. One flight up the door of Wolfe's room was at the left, but I kept going and mounted another flight to my room, which was to the right, at the front of the house.

Ordinarily, what with my personal morning fog, it takes me around forty minutes to get rigged for the day, but that time I made it in thirty, with time out for the juice, toast and jam, and coffee. When Fritz came with the tray I asked him to tell Wolfe I was there, and he said he had done so on his way up, and Wolfe was pleased. I don't mean Wolfe said he was pleased; Fritz said he was. Fritz thinks he is a diplomat. At 11:42, cleaner and neater but not gayer, I went down to the office.

They were all there, all of Lily's Monday luncheon guests but Wade Eisler. Lily was in the red leather chair. Cal and Laura were still on the couch, but not holding hands. The other six were on the yellow chairs, Mel Fox, Nan Karlin, and Harvey Greve in front, and Roger Dunning, his wife, and Anna Casado in the rear. Saul Panzer and Fred Durkin were off at the side, over by the big globe.

Wolfe, at his desk, was speaking as I entered. He stopped to dart a glance at me. I halted and inquired politely, "Am I intruding?"

Lily said, "You look pretty spruce for a man who spent the night in jail."

Wolfe said, "I have told them why you were delayed. Now that you're here I'll proceed." As I circled around the company to get to my desk he went on, to them, "I repeat, I have been employed by Miss Rowan and am acting in her interest, but I am solely responsible for what I am about to say. If I defame I alone am liable;

i8o

3 at Wolfe's Door

she is not. You are here at my invitation, but you came, of course, not to please me but to hear me. I won't keep you longer than I must"

"We have to be at the Garden by a quarter after one," Roger Dunning said. "The show starts at two."

"Yes, sir, I know." Wolfe's eyes went right and then left. "I think it likely that one of you won't be there. I am not prepared to say to one of .you, "You killed Wade Eisler and I can prove it,' but I can offer a suggestion. All of you had the opportunity and the means; you were there, the steel rod was there, the rope was there. None of you was eliminated with certainty by a check of your movements. I made no such check, but the police did, and at that sort of thing they are inimitable. So it was a question of motive, as it often is."

He pinched his nose with a thumb and forefinger, and I suppressed a grin. He is convinced that when a woman is present, let alone four of them, the air is tainted with perfume. Sometimes it is, naturally, but not then and there. I have a good nose and I hadn't smelled any on the cowgirls, and you have to get a good deal closer to Lily than Wolfe was to catch hers. But he pinched his nose.

He resumed. "From the viewpoint of the police two facts pointed to Mr. Barrow: it was his rope, and he found the body. Rather, it seemed to me, they pointed away from him, but let that pass. He had a motive, but no one knew it but Miss Jay and Mr. Goodwin. If the police had known it he would have been charged with murder. I learned of it only yesterday, and I ignored it because Mr. Goodwin told me to. He was convinced that Mr. Barrow was innocent, and he is not easy to convince. Mr. Barrow, you and I are in his debt--you because he saved you from a mortal hazard, and I because he saved me from wasting time and trouble on you."

"Yes, sir," Cal said. "That's not all I owe him." He looked at Laura, and for a second I thought he was going to take her hand in public, but he reined in.

"I also learned yesterday," Wolfe went on, "that Miss Karlin had had a motive, and, according to Miss Jay, that Mr. Fox had had one. But later Miss Jay recanted. Miss Jay, did you tell Mr. Fox of Miss Karlin's experience at Eisler's apartment?" The Rodeo Murder 181

"No. I must have been--"

"The 'no' is enough. But you did phone the police yesterday that you saw Mr. Goodwin on Miss Rowan's terrace at half past three Monday afternoon?"

"What?" Laura stared. "I never phoned the police anything!"

"You must have. It is of no consequence now, but--"

"I phoned the police," Ellen Dunning said. "I phoned them and told them that because it was true, and I thought they ought to know."

"But you didn't identify yourself."

"No, I didn't. I was afraid to. I didn't know what they might do because I hadn't told about it before. But I thought they ought to know."

I wouldn't have dreamed that the day would ever come when I would owe Laura an apology.

"I doubt," Wolfe said, "if you have earned their gratitude. Certainly not mine or Mr. Goodwin's. To go back to Mr. Fox--by the way, Miss Kailin, you were released on bail this morning?"

"Yes," Nan said.

"You were questioned at length?"

"I certainly was."

"Did they worm it out of you that you had told Mr. Fox of your visit to Eisler's apartment?"

"Of course not! I hadn't told him! He didn't know about it until yesterday!"

Wolfe's eyes moved. "Do you confirm that, Mr. Fox?"

"I sure do." Mel was on the edge of his chair, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, his head tilted up. "If this is the suggestion you said you'd offer you can stick it somewhere."

"It isn't. I'm merely clearing away the brush. Even if you and Miss Karlin are lying, if she did tell you, it can't be proven. Therefore it is impossible to establish a motive for you. No, that is not my suggestion. I only--"

"Wait a minute," Roger Dunning blurted. "I've held off up to now, but I might have known I couldn't forever. I told Mel about it--about Nan going to Eisler's place and what he did."

"When?"

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"I told him Sunday night. I thought he ought to know because I knew he-"

"You're a dirty liar. Get on your feet." Mel was on his. Dunning's chair was right behind his, and Mel had turned to face him.

"I'm sorry, Mel," Dunning said. "I'm damn sorry, but you can't expect--"

"On your feet!"

"That won't help any, Mel. That won't-"

Mel smacked him on the jaw with his open hand, his right, and his left was on the way to countersmack him as his head swayed, but Saul Panzer and Fred Durkin were there. I was up, but they were closer. They got his arms and backed him up and turned him, and Wolfe spoke.

"If you please, Mr. Fox. I'll deal with him. I know he's lying."

Mel squinted. "How the hell do you know he's lying?"

"I know a cornered rat when I see one. Move your chair and sit down. Saul, see if Mr. Dunning has a weapon. We don't need any melodrama."

Dunning was on his feet, focused on Wolfe. "You said Miss Rowan's not responsible," he said, louder than necessary. "You said you are." He turned to Lily. "You hired him. I advise you to fire him quick."

Lily looked at me. I shook my head. Fred moved behind Dunning and took his arms, and Saul went over him. Mel Fox moved his chair away and sat. Cal said something to Laura, and Anna Casado spoke to Harvey Greve. Saul turned and told Wolfe, "No gun." Dunning said to his wife, "Come on, Ellen, we're going." She reached and grabbed his sleeve.

Wolfe spoke. "You are not going, Mr. Dunning. When you do go you will be under escort. I repeat, I can't say to you, Tou killed Wade Eisler and I can prove it,' but I do say that the probability of your guilt is so great that I stake my reputation on it. I must confess that this is impetuous, but your motive couldn't be established widiout warning you; and I wished to gratify a caprice of my client, Miss Rowan, who invited me to her table for a memorable meal. She wants to deliver you to the District Attorney. Mr. Panzer and Mr. Durkin will go along to give him some information

The Rodeo Murder 183

they have gathered. You are going willy-nilly. Do you want to challenge me here and now?"

Dunning turned his head to see where his chair was, and sat. He pulled his shoulders up and lifted his chin. "What information?" he asked.

"I'll tell you its nature," Wolfe said. "I doubt if the District Attorney would want me to give you the particulars. But first, what fixed my attention on you? You did--something that you said when you were here yesterday morning. I didn't worm it out of you, you volunteered it, that on Monday at Miss Rowan's place you noticed that Mr. Eisler wasn't on the terrace and you looked around for him, inside and outside. I asked you when, and you said--I quote you verbatim: 'It wasn't long after Miss Rowan went in for some more coffee--maybe three minutes, maybe more than that.' That was entirely too pat, Mr. Dunning. You were accounting for your absence in case it had been remarked by anyone, and more important, you were accounting for your appearance in the rear of the penthouse in case you had been observed. And you did it gratuitously; I hadn't asked for it."

"I said it because it was true." Dunning licked his lips.

"No doubt. But it suggested the question, what if, instead of looking for him, you were killing him? What if, having got the rope from the closet and concealed it under your jacket, you got Eisler to go with you to that shack on some pretext, or to meet you there? That attracted me. Of the persons there you were the only one whose absence during that period could be established; you yourself avowed it. But then the question, what impelled you? Had you had a cogent motive? To avenge his misconduct with Miss Karlin or with another woman or women?"

Wolfe shook his head. "That seemed unlikely, though not impossible. More probably it had been some other factor of your relations with him. But when I put Mr. Panzer and Mr. Durkin on your trail I told them to explore all avenues, and they did so. They found no hint that you had a personal interest in any of the young women Mr. Eisler had pestered, but they gathered facts that were highly suggestive. By the way, a detail: on the phone last evening I asked Miss Rowan if you knew of that shack in the rear of the

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penthouse, and she said that you not only knew of it, you had been in it. You went there on Sunday to make sure that the terrace would be cleared of obstructions so the ropes could be manipulated, and she took you to the shack to see the grouse that were hanging there. Is that correct, Miss Rowan?"

Lily said yes. She didn't look happy. Since it was beginning to look as if she was going to get her money's worth, she should have been pleased, but she didn't look it.

"That's a lie," Dunning said. "I didn't know about that shack. I never saw it."

Wolfe nodded. "You're desperate. You knew I wouldn't arrange this gathering unless I had discovered something of consequence, so you start wriggling; you try to implicate Mr. Fox, your word against his, and you deny you knew of the shack, your word against Miss Rowan's. Indeed, you started wriggling yesterday, when you had your wife phone the police in an effort to implicate Mr. Good win. Probably you have learned that something has been taken from your hotel room. Have you inspected the contents of your suitcase since ten o'clock last evening? The old brown one in the closet that you keep locked?"

"No." Dunning swallowed. "Why should I?"

"I think you have. I have reason to believe that an envelope now in my safe came from that suitcase. I have examined its contents, and while they don't prove that you killed Wade Eisler they are highly suggestive of a possible motive. I said I'll tell you the nature of the information I have but not the particulars. However, you may have one detail." His head turned. "Mr. Greve. You told Mr. Panzer that in the past two years you have purchased some three hundred horses, two hundred steers and bulls, and a hundred and fifty calves, in behalf of Mr. Dunning. Is that correct?"

Harvey didn't look happy either. "That's about right," he said. "That's just rough figures."

"From how many different people did you buy them?"

"Maybe a hundred, maybe more. I scouted around."

"How did you pay for them?"

"Some I gave them a check, but mostly cash. They like cash."

"Your own checks?"

The Rodeo Murder 185

"Yes. Roger made deposits in my account, eight or ten thousand dollars at a time, and I paid out of that."

"Did Mr. Dunning tell you not to divulge the amounts you paid for the animals?"

Harvey screwed up his mouth. "I don't like this."

"Neither do 1.1 am earning a fee. You are exposing a man who made you a party to a swindle and who is almost certainly a murderer. Did he tell you not to divulge the amounts?"

"Yes, he did."

"Has anyone asked you to?"

"Yes. Wade Eisler. About ten days ago. I told him Roger had all the records and he'd have to ask him."

"Did you tell Mr. Dunning that Mr. Eisler had asked you?"

"Yes."

"That's a lie," Dunning said.

Wolfe nodded. "Again one person's word against yours. But I have the envelope, and I have the names of three other men who have made purchases for you under similar arrangements, and Mr. Durkin and Mr. Panzer have spoken with them. Two of them were asked for figures recently hy Wade Eisler, as was Mr. Greve. I don't know how much you cheated Eisler out of, but from the contents of the envelope I surmise that it was many thousands." His head turned. "Saul and Fred, you will escort Mr. Dunning to the District Attorney's office and deliver the envelope and the information you have collected. Archie, get the envelope from the safe."

I moved. As I passed behind Dunning's chair he started up, but Saul's hand on one shoulder and Fred's on the other stopped him. As I opened the safe door Wolfe said, "Give it to Saul. Miss Rowan, do you want Mr. Goodwin to phone the District Attorney to expect you?"

I had never seen Lily so completely got. "Good lord," she said, "I didn't realize. You couldn't drag me. I wish I hadn't. . . No, I don't. . . but I didn't realize how--how hard it is."

"You're not going?"

"Of course not!"

"You, Mr. Greve? You might as well. If you don't you'll be sent for later."

186 3 at Wolfe's Door

"Then I'll go later." Harvey was on his feet. "We've got a show on." He looked at Cal and Mel. "What about it? Think you can handle a calf if I hold his tail?"

"But we can't," Nan Karlin said. "Just go and--we can't!" "The hell we can't," Cal Barrow said. "Come on, Laura."

vm

One snowy morning in January I got a letter from Cal Barrow.

Dear Archie:

You used them two dots like that when you wrote me on the typewriter so if you can I can. I read in the paper today about Roger Dunning getting convicted and Laura said I ought to write you and I said she ought to and she said did I want her writing letters to the man she should have married instead of me: and so it went. Remember when I said about that blowout I didn't want to stink it up, well it sure got stunk up. We are making out pretty well here in Texas but it is cold enough to freeze the tits on a steer if he had any. Laura says to give you her love but don't believe it. Best regards.

Yours truly:

Cal

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