Stout, Rex - Black Orchids

by Black Orchids (lit)

  The doorbell rang, but I kept my seat and left it for Fritz because I had no reason to expect any undesirable intrusions. As it turned out, however, it was exactly the kind of invasion Wolfe resents more than anything else. An insurance salesman or a wife wanting her husband tailed is merely a mosquito to be brushed off, with me to do the brushing, but this wasn't as simple as that. The sound of Fritz's voice came from the hall, in indignant protest, and then the door flew open and Inspector Cramer strode in. I mean strode. His first glance caught me, and was it withering. Then he saw who Daniel was, emitted a triumphal grunt, spread his feet apart, and rasped out:

  "Come along, you!" And to me: "You too, bud! Come on!"

  I grinned at him. "If you ever find time to glance over an interesting document called the Constitution of the United-"

  "Shut up, Archie," Wolfe snapped. "Mr. Cramer. What in the name of heaven is the matter with you?"

  "Not a thing," Cramer said sarcastically. "Matter with me? Not a damn thing." I never saw him sorer or sourer. "Listen!" he said. He stepped to the desk and tapped a heavy finger on it, sounding like a hammer. "Last night, sitting right at this desk, what did you say? What did you tell me?"

  Wolfe was grimacing with distaste. "Your tone and manner, Mr. Cramer-"

  "You said, in case you've forgotten, that you weren't interested in the death of Bess Huddleston! Knew nothing about it! Weren't interested!" Cramer went on tapping the desk. "Well, this afternoon somebody in my office got an idea-we do that once in a while! I sent a man up there, and young Huddleston showed him where the monkey poured some of that iodine, and when he went to take some of that turf for analysis, he found it had already been taken! It had been carefully filled up with other turf, but the grass didn't match. He asked questions, and he learned that Daniel Huddleston had done it, taken the turf away, and Goodwin had been there and gone with him!"

  "Not with him," I corrected emphatically. "After him."

  Cramer ignored me. "We went for Huddleston and couldn't find him. So I come to see you. You and Goodwin. And what do I find? By God! I find Huddleston! Sitting here eating! This is the rawest one you've ever pulled! Removing evidence, destroying evidence-"

  "Nonsense," Wolfe said curtly and coldly. "Stop shouting. If you wish to know the purpose of Mr. Huddleston's visit-"

  "Not from you I don't! I'll get it from him! And from Goodwin! And separately! I'm taking them downtown."

  "No," Wolfe said. "Not from my office."

  That was the central point of the situation. Twenty minutes earlier Daniel's empty stomach was all that had kept Wolfe from chasing him to the police, and it wouldn't have hurt his appetite any if I had gone along to keep Daniel company, but this was different. For a cop to remove persons from the house, any person whatever, with or without a charge or a warrant, except at Wolfe's instigation, was an intolerable insult to his pride, his vanity, and his sense of the fitness of things. So as was to be expected, he acted with a burst of energy amounting to violence. He sat up straight in his chair.

  "Mr. Cramer," he said, "sit down."

  "Not a chance." Cramer meant it. "You're not going to take me in with one of your goddamn-"

  "Archie, show Mr. Cramer that report from the Fisher Laboratories."

  I stuck it under his nose. His impulse was to push it away, but no cop, not even an Inspector, dares to refuse to look at a paper. So he snatched it and scowled at it. Daniel started to say something, but Wolfe shushed him, and Daniel finished off the cheese and the last cracker, and put sugar in his tea and began to stir it.

  "So what?" Cramer growled. "How do I know-"

  "I sometimes doubt if you know anything," Wolfe said shortly. "I was not and am not interested in Miss Huddleston's death, though you and Mr. Huddleston and Archie keep pestering me about it. I have no client. My client died. You are even affronted to find Mr. Huddleston here eating. If he's hungry, why the devil shouldn't he eat? When he appeared here at one o'clock with that turf, I told him to take it to the police. He said they regarded him as a nuisance. Why he returned here with the laboratory report, I do not know; I only know he was hungry. If you are disgruntled because you have no assurance that the piece of turf examined by the laboratory is the piece onto which the chimpanzee poured some of the contents of the bottle of supposed iodine, I can't help it. Why didn't you get the turf yourself when Mr. Huddleston first called on you, five days ago? It was an obvious thing to do."

  "I didn't know then that the chimpanzee had poured-"

  "You should have. Proper questioning would have got it. Either it was worth investigating competently, or not at all. Well, sir, there's your report. Keep it. You'll get a bill for it from the Fisher Laboratories. Archie, make a note of that. It wasn't iodine in that bottle; it was argyrol, and it was reeking with tetanus bacilli. An uncommonly ugly thing to do. I have never heard of a more objectionable way of committing murder, nor of an easier or simpler one. I trust, sir, that you'll make an arrest. You should, since you have only five people to deal with-the five who were there, not counting Archie-"

  "Wait a minute," Daniel protested. "You're wrong. That bottle could have been put there any time-"

  Wolfe shook his head. "No. Only that afternoon. If we had to we could argue that it is not credible that it was left in the cupboard for an extended period, for just anyone to use, but we don't have to. The bottle in that cupboard contained good iodine at four o'clock that afternoon."

  Cramer growled. Daniel demanded, "How do you know that?"

  "Because it was used at that hour. By Archie. He tripped on an alligator and scratched his hand."

  "By God," Cramer said, and sat down. Daniel looked at me, and I nodded at him.

  Daniel looked at Wolfe, his jaw hanging open and his face gray. "Then it c-couldn't have been-" he stammered.

  "Couldn't have been what?" Cramer demanded.

  "It couldn't have been someone-" Daniel shook his head weakly, as if trying to reject something. Suddenly he exclaimed fiercely, "I can't believe that! One of them? Those two girls or Larry or Brady?"

  "Or you, sir," Wolfe said dryly. "You were there. As for your trying to get the police started on it, you may be more devious than you look. Save your indignation. Calm yourself. Your digestive processes will make a botch of that soup and cheese if you don't. So, Mr. Cramer, I give you that. It was an impromptu job. Not that it was unpremeditated; far from it; it was carefully prepared; an iodine bottle had been emptied and washed and replenished with argyrol and an army of tetanus germs."

  Wolfe compressed his lips. "Very ugly. It would take an extremely unattractive person to think of that, let alone do it. It was done. I presume a situation was to be created requiring the use of the iodine; in fact, there is reason to believe that it had been created, or was in process; but the accident on the terrace provided an opportunity too good to be missed. From the standpoint of technique, it was brilliantly conceived and managed. Only two things needed to be done: drop a piece of glass into Miss Huddleston's slipper, which was quite simple with everyone jostling around picking up the pieces, and substitute the bottle of bogus iodine for the one that was in the cupboard. With no risk whatever. If Miss Huddleston shook the glass out of her slipper before putting it on, if for any reason she didn't cut herself, the bottle could be switched again and nothing lost. There is a point, of course: if the bottle in the cupboard had a different kind of label-"

  "They all had the same label," Cramer rumbled.

  "All?"

  "Yes. There were seven bottles of iodine in that house, counting the kitchen, and they were all the same, size and shape and label."

  "They bought it wholesale," I explained, "on account of Mister and the bears."

  "That," Wolfe said, "is precisely the sort of thing you would know, Mr. Cramer. Seven. Not eight. Seven. And of course you had it all analyzed and it was all good iodine."

  "It was. And what the hell is there in that to be sarcastic about? It clears up your point, don't it? And I might mention an
other point. The murderer had to leave the terrace, go in the house, between the time the glasses got broken and the time Miss Huddleston cut herself, to switch the iodine bottles."

  Wolfe shook his head. "That offers nothing. They all went in the house during that period. Miss Nichols went for brooms and pans. The nephew went for another tray of supplies. Miss Timms went for a vacuum cleaner. Dr. Brady carried off the debris."

  Cramer stared at him in exasperation. "And you know nothing about it! Jesus. You're not interested!"

  "I didn't," Daniel put in. "I didn't leave the terrace during that period."

  "So far as I know," Wolfe agreed, "that is correct. But if I were you I wouldn't brag about it. You went for the iodine. It was the bottle you handed to Dr. Brady that he used. Your jaw is loose again. You bounce, Mr. Huddleston, from wrath to indignation, with amazing agility. Frankly, I doubt if it is possible to suspect you of murdering your sister. If you did it, your facial dexterity surpasses anything in my experience. If you'll stay and dine with me, I'll reach a decision on that before the meal is finished. Partridges in marinade. En escabeche." His eyes gleamed. "They are ready for us." He pushed back his chair and got himself onto his feet. "So, Mr. Cramer, it seems likely that it is limited to four, which simplifies your task. You'll excuse me, I'm sure-"

  "Yeah," Cramer said, "glad to." He was up too. "But you'll enjoy your partridges alone. Huddleston and Goodwin are going with me." His glance took us in. "Let's go."

  Wolfe looked displeased. "I have already cleared away the brush for you. If you insist on seeing them this evening, they can call at your office-say at ten o'clock?"

  "No. They're coming now."

  Wolfe's chin went up. His mouth opened and then closed again. It was an interesting sight, especially for me, knowing as I do how hard he is to flabbergast, next to impossible, but I can't truthfully say I enjoyed it, because of who was doing it. So I spoke up:

  "I'm staying for the partridges. And I may or may not show up at ten o'clock, depending-"

  "To hell with you," Cramer rumbled. "I'll deal with you later. We'll go, Mr. Huddleston."

  Wolfe took a step, and his voice was as close to trembling with rage as it ever got. "Mr. Huddleston is my invited guest!"

  "I've uninvited him. Come, Mr. Huddleston."

  Wolfe turned to Daniel. He was controlling himself under insufferable provocation. "Mr. Huddleston. I have invited you to my table. You are under no compulsion, legal or moral, to accompany this man on demand. He struts and blusters. Later Mr. Goodwin will drive you-"

  But Daniel said firmly, "I guess I'll go along with him, Mr. Wolfe. After the days I've spent trying to get them started on this . . ."

  The partridge was swell, and I ate nearly as much as Wolfe did. Otherwise it was one of the dullest meals I had ever had under Wolfe's roof. He didn't say a word, clear to the coffee.

  Chapter 6

  I described that scene in detail, because if it hadn't been for that I doubt if the murderer of Bess Huddleston would ever have been caught. One of Cramer's bunch might possibly have doped it out, but they never in the world would have got enough evidence for an arrest. And Wolfe, with no client and no commitment, was through with it, or would have been if Cramer hadn't kidnapped a dinner guest right under his nose and made him so damn mad he had to take Amphojel twice that evening.

  Twice. The first dose was right after dinner, when he sent me up to his room for the bottle. The second was long after midnight, when I got home after my call on Inspector Cramer downtown. I sneaked quietly up the two flights to my room, but was just starting to undress when the house phone on my table buzzed, and, answering it and getting a summons, I descended to Wolfe's room and entered. The light was on and he wasn't in his bed, and, proceeding to his bathroom, I found him taking another shot of Amphojel, with a scowl on his face that would have scared Joe Louis right out of the ring. He was a spectacle anyway, draped in the ten yards of yellow silk that it took to make him a suit of pajamas. "Well?" he demanded.

  "Nothing. Routine. Questions and a signed statement."

  "He'll pay for this." Wolfe made a face like an infuriated gargoyle and put the Amphojel bottle back in the cabinet. "I haven't had to take this stuff since that hideous experiment with eels in the spring. He'll pay for it. Go to Riverdale early in the morning. Consult the stableman and learn-"

  "I doubt if there is one. The horses are gone. The creditors get two percent."

  "Find him. Wherever he is. I wish to know whether anyone has recently removed anything, any material, from the vicinity of the stable. A small paper bag filled at the manure pile would have been ideal. Question him. If he's difficult, bring him here. Also-is there a servant on the place?"

  I nodded. "The butler. I think he's hanging on hoping to get paid."

  "Ask him about that bottle that Miss Huddleston found broken in her bathroom. Whatever he knows about it. Ask any other servant who was there at the time. All details possible-"

  "The others too? Maryella, Janet, Larry-"

  "No. Mention it to no one but the servants. Phone before returning. Before you go, leave phone numbers on my desk-Riverdale, Mr. Huddleston, Dr. Brady-that's all. He'll pay for this. Good night."

  So we had a case. We had no client, no retainer, and no fee in sight, but at least we had a case, which was better than sitting around on my tail listening to the radio.

  I made six hours' sleep do me, and before eight o'clock next morning I was up at Riverdale. I didn't phone in advance, since I had to go anyway to get my car which I had left on the driveway the day before. Greeted at the door by Hoskins, I was told that the stableman was gone and maybe Maryella had his address. I would have preferred asking Janet or even Larry, but Hoskins said they were both late sleepers and Maryella was already eating breakfast, so I got the address from her, and by good luck it wasn't Bucyrus, Ohio, but merely Brooklyn. Whatever else you want to say about Brooklyn, and so do I, it does have one big advantage, it's close.

  That errand was one of the simplest I have ever performed, once I found the address and the stableman. His name was Tim Lavery and a scar on his cheek made him look mean until he grinned. I started with him cautiously, pretending that my mind was on something else, but soon saw that it wasn't necessary to sneak up on him, and put it to him straight.

  "Sure," he said, "one day about a month ago, maybe a little more, Doc Brady filled up a box he brought, an empty candy box. I helped him. He said he wanted it for a test. One of his patients had died of tetanus-I forget her name-"

  I pretended there was nothing to be excited about. "Where'd he take it from? The stall?"

  "No. The pile. I dug into the middle of the pile for him." "Who was with him that day? One of the girls?" Tim shook his head. "He was alone when he did it. They had been riding-I forget who was with him that day-and they went to the house and then he came back alone with that box and said what he wanted." "Do you remember the day? The date?" The best he could do on that was the last week in July. I got the details all filled in, made sure that he would be available if and when needed, and, leaving, stopped at the first phone booth and called Wolfe. Answering from the plant rooms and therefore with his mind occupied, he displayed no exultation, which he wouldn't anyway, and informed me that my discovery made no change in the rest of my assignment.

  Arriving at the Huddleston place in Riverdale a little after ten o'clock, my luck still held. Instead of stopping by the side gate, I continued along the drive, where another gate opened onto a path leading to the back door, and Hoskins was there in the kitchen having a conversation with a depressed-looking female in a maid's uniform. They acted reserved but not hostile; in fact, Hoskins invited me to have a cup of coffee, which I accepted. Taking an inventory as a precaution against any unwelcome interruptions, I was told that Larry and Maryella had both gone out, Daniel hadn't shown up that morning, no city employees were on the premises, and Janet had just had breakfast in bed. The field was clear, but I had a hunch that a delegation from Cr
amer's office might be appearing any minute, so I got down to business without wasting any time.

  They both remembered all about it. Shortly after lunch that Tuesday afternoon Hoskins had been summoned to Miss Huddleston's room upstairs and requested to take a look at the bathroom. Broken glass was everywhere, in the tub, on the floor, the remnants of a large bottle of bath salts that had been kept on a high shelf above the bathtub. Miss Huddleston hadn't done it. Hoskins hadn't done it. The maid, summoned, said she hadn't done it, and then she and Hoskins cleaned up the mess. I asked what about the orangutan. Possibly, they said, with that beast anything was possible, but it had not been permitted upstairs and seldom went there, and had not been observed inside the house that day.

  I filled in details all I could, even asking to view the remains of the broken bottle, which they said had been thick and heavy and creamy yellow in color, but that had been carted away. Then I asked Hoskins to let me take a look at the bathroom, and when we started for the stairs the maid came along, mumbling something about Miss Nichols' breakfast tray. Bess Huddleston's room was more like a museum than a bedroom, the walls covered with framed autographed photographs and letters, and all the available space filled with everything from a lady manikin in an Eskimo suit to a string of Chinese lanterns, but what I was interested in was the bathroom. It was all colors, the World War camouflage type, or Devil's Rainbow. It made me too dizzy to do a decent job of inspection, but I managed to note such details as the position of the shelf on which the bottle of bath salts had stood. There was a new bottle there, nearly full, and I was reaching for it to take it down to look at it when I suddenly jerked around and cocked an ear and stepped to the door. Hoskins was standing in the middle of the room in a state of suspended animation, his back to me.

  "Who screamed?" I demanded.

  "Down the hall," he said without turning. "There's nobody but Miss Nichols-"