The Black Mountain
Page 1
The Black Mountain
Rex Stout
The Black Mountain Rex Stout Series: Nero Wolfe [23] Published: 1998 Tags: Vintage Mystery
Vintage Mysteryttt
SUMMARY:
Enraged by the cold-blooded killing of his closest friend, Nero Wolfe leaves not only his home, but his country as well. In an exotic land where his life depends on a false passport, a knapsack filled with chocolate bars, and a razor-sharp knife, the great man faces the most dangerous adventure of his career.
SUMMARY:
Enraged by the cold-blooded killing of his closest friend, Nero Wolfe leaves not only his home, but his country as well. In an exotic land where his life depends on a false passport, a knapsack filled with chocolate bars, and a razor-sharp knife, the great man faces the most dangerous adventure of his career.
The Black MountainRex StoutSeries: Nero Wolfe [23] Published: 1998 Tags: Vintage Mystery
Vintage Mysteryttt
SUMMARY:
Enraged by the cold-blooded killing of his closest friend, Nero Wolfe leaves not only his home, but his country as well. In an exotic land where his life depends on a false passport, a knapsack filled with chocolate bars, and a razor-sharp knife, the great man faces the most dangerous adventure of his career.
SUMMARY:
Enraged by the cold-blooded killing of his closest friend, Nero Wolfe leaves not only his home, but his country as well. In an exotic land where his life depends on a false passport, a knapsack filled with chocolate bars, and a razor-sharp knife, the great man faces the most dangerous adventure of his career.
THE BLACK MOUNTAIN REX STOUT Thorndike Press � Chivers Press Thorndike, Maine USA Bath, England This Large Print edition is published by Thomdike Press, USA and by Chivers Press, England. Published in 1998 in the U.S. by arrangement with Rebecca Stout Bradbury. Published in 1998 in the U.K. by arrangement with Rebecca Stout Bradbury. U.S. Hardcover 0-7862-1569-0 (Thomdike Mystery Series Edition) U.K. Hardcover 0-7540-3511-5 (Chivers Large Print) U.K-Softcover 0-7540-3512-3 (Camden Large Print) Copyright � 1954, by Rex Stout All rights reserved. The text of this Large Print edition is unabridged. Other aspects of the book may vary from the original edition. Set in 16 pi. Plantin by Rick Gundberg. Printed in the United States on permanent paper. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data available Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data Stout, Rex, 18861975. The black mountain / Rex Stout. p. cm. ISBN 0-7862-1569-0 (Ig. print : he : alk. paper) 1. Wolfe, Nero (Fictitious character) -- Fiction. 2. Private investigators -- New York (State) -- New York -- Fiction. I. Title. [PS3537.T733B53 1998] 813'.52--dc21 9828860 Warning In a way this is a phony. A lot of the talk I report was in languages I am not on speaking terms with, so even with the training I've had there is no use pretending that here it is, word for word. But this is what happened, since I had to know what was going on to earn my keep, Nero Wolfe put it in English for me every chance he got. For the times when it had to be on the fly, and pretty sketchy, I have filled it in as well as I could. Maybe I shouldn't have tried to tell it at all, but I hated to skip it. Archie Goodwill Chapter 1 That was the one and only time Nero Wolfe had ever seen the inside of the morgue. That Thursday evening in March I barely caught the phone call. With a ticket for a basketball game at the Garden in my pocket, I had dined in the kitchen, because I would have to leave the house at ten to eight, and Wolfe refuses to sit at table with one who has to pack it in and run. And that time I couldn't eat early because Fritz was braising a wild turkey and had to convey it to the dining room on a platter for Wolfe to see whole before wielding the knife. Sometimes when I have a date for a game or a show I get things from the refrigerator around sixthirty and take my time, but I wanted some of that hot turkey, not to mention Fritz's celery sauce and corn fritters. I was six minutes behind schedule when, as I pushed my chair back and got erect, the phone rang. After asking Fritz to get it 7 on the kitchen extension and proceeding to the hall, I hant to the sergeant at the desk, whose name was Donovan, and told him I had identified the body but Mr. Wolfe was coming to take a look and I would stick around. Donovan shook his head. "I only got orders about you." "Nuts. You don't need orders. Any citizen and taxpayer can enter here to look for the 11 remains of a revive ^ friend or enemy. Mr. Wolfe is a c^zen and taxpayer. I make out his tax retur^g � "I thought yo^ ^as a private eye." CCT 1 91 "I 1 1 don t like tJ-^ ^y y^y gay ^ ^ j am. Also I am an accountant, an amanuensis, and a cocklebu^ Eight to five you never heard the word amanuensis and you never saw a cocklebur.^ He didn't rile. "Yeah, I know, you're an educated wit. Fo^ ^^ ^y^ j need orders. I know too much about him. Maybe he can get away with hi^ ^icks with Homicide and the DA. but noi: ^h me or none of my guests." I didn't feel lil^ arguing. Besides, I knew Donovan had a ^ to put up with. When the door opened ^o admit a customer it might be anything f^m a pair of hoodlums wanting to collec^ ^ata for a fake identification, to a hysterical female wanting to find out if she was a ^ow. That must have got on his nerves. S<^ ^ merely explained it to him. I told him ^ ^ ^^gg about Marko Vukcic. That he ^as one of the only ten men I knew of t^at Nero Wolfe called by their first names, ^hat for years he had dined once a mo^ at Wolfe's table, and Wolfe and I had q^ed once a month at his restaurant. That ^e and Wolfe had been 12 boys together in Mo^n^0' whlch was now a part of Yugosla^a- E>onovan seemed to be listening, but ^e wasn5t impressed. When I thought I ha^ made the sltuatlon perfectly plain and stepped for breath, he turned to his phone, ^lled Homicide, told them Wolfe was comilW and asked for instructions.
He hung up. "They'" ca11 back'" he informed me. No bones got brol^n. His instructions came a minute before the door opened to admit Wolfe. I went and opened the gate in the railing, and Wo^ stepped through. "This way," I said ar^ steered him to the corridor and along to the room. The doctor had g^t the ^ that had entered between the fiftn and slxth nbs3 and was going for the on^ lower down- I saw that from three paces o^ where J stoPPed Wolfe went on until tt^ P^ of hlm that is farthest front, his midd^ was touching the edge of the table. Tt^ doctor recognized him and spoke. "I understand he ^as a friend of ^ovirss Mr. Wolfe." "He was," Wolfe s^ a little louder than necessary. He moved sidewise, reached a hand, put fingertips under Marko's chin, and pushed the jaw HP s0 that the mouth 13 closed; but when he took his hand away the lips parted again. He turned his head to frown at the doctor. "That'll be arranged," the doctor assured him. Wolfe nodded. He put fingers and a thumb into his vest pocket, withdrew them, and showed the doctor two small coins. "These are old dinars. I would like to fulfill a pledge made many years ago." The scientist said sure, go ahead, and Wolfe reached to Marko's face again, this time to place the coins on the eyes. The head was twisted a little, and he had to level it so the coins would stay put. He turned away. "That's all. I have no further commitment to the clay. Come, Archie." I followed him out and along the corridor to the front. The dick who had been my escort, there chinning with the sergeant, told me I didn't need to sign a statement and asked Wolfe if he verified the identification. Wolfe said he did and added, "Where's Mr. Cramer?" "Sorry, I couldn't tell you." Wolfe turned to me. "I told the driver to wait. You said East Fifty-fourth Street. Marko's address?" "Right." 14 "We'll go there." He went, and I followed. That taxi ride uptown broke a precedent. Wolfe's distrust of machinery is such that he is never in a condition to talk when he is being conveyed in something on wheels, even when I am driving, but that time he mastered it. He asked me questions about Marko Vukcic. I reminded him that he had known Marko a lot longer and better than I had, but he said there were some subjects which Marko had never discussed with him but might have with me � for example, his relations with women. I agreed that was logical, but said that as far as I knew Marko hadn't wasted time discussing his relations with women, he just went ahead and enjoyed them. I gave an instance. When, a couple of years previously, I had taken one named Sue Dondero to Rusterman's for dinner, Marko had cast an eye on her and contributed a bottle of one of his best clarets, and the next day had phoned to ask if I would care to give him her address and phone number, and I had done so and crossed her off. Wolfe asked why. I said to give her a break. Marko, sole owner of Rusterman's, was a wealthy man and a widower, and Sue might hook him. But she hadn't, Wolfe said. No, I agreed, as far as I knew there had been 15 something wrong with the ignition. "What the hell," the hackie grumbled, braking. Having turned off Park Avenue into Fiftyfourth Street, he had made to cross Lexington, and a cop had waved him down. The cab stopped with a jerk that justified Wolfe's attitude toward machinery, and the hackie stuck his head out and objected. "My fare's number is in that block, officer." "Can't help it. Closed. Up or down." He yanked the wheel, and we swung to the curb. I paid him, got out, and held the door, and Wolfe emerged. He stood a moment to take a deep breath, and we headed east. Ten paces along there was another cop, and a little farther on still another. Ahead, in the middle of the block, was a convention: police cars, spotlights, men working, and a gathering of citizens on the sidewalk across the street. On our side a stretch of the sidewalk was included in a roped-off area. As we approached it a cop got in the way and commanded, "Cross over and keep moving."
"I came here to look at this," Wolfe told him. "I know. You and ten thousand more. Cross over." 16 "I am a friend of the man who was killed. My name is Nero Wolfe." "Yeah, and mine's General MacArthur. Keep moving." It might have developed into an interesting conversation if I hadn't caught sight, in one of the spotlights, of a familiar face and figure. I sang out, "Rowcliff!" He turned and peered, stepped out of the glare and peered some more, and then approached. "Well?" he demanded. Among all the array of Homicide personnel that Wolfe and I have had dealings with, high and low. Lieutenant Rowcliff is the only one of whom I am dead sure that our feelings are absolutely reciprocal. He would like to see me exactly where I would like to see him. So, having summoned him, I left it to Wolfe, who spoke. "Good evening, Mr. Rowcliff. Is Mr. Cramer here?" "No." "Mr. Stebbins?" "No." "I want to see the spot where Mr. Vukcic died." "You'll be in the way. We're working." "So am I." Rowcliff considered. He would have loved to order a couple of the help to take us to 17 the river and dump us in, but the timing would have been bad. Since it was unheard of for Wolfe to leave his house to work as a matter of routine, he knew this was something extraordinary, and there was no telling how his superiors might react if he let his personal inclinations take charge. Of course he also knew that Wolfe and Vukcic had been close friends. He hated to do it, but he said, "Come this way," and led us along to the front of the house and to the curb. "This is open to correction," he said, "but we think we've got it about right. Vukcic left the building alone. He passed between two parked cars to look west for a taxi. A car that was double-parked about twenty yards to the west -- not a hack, a black or dark blue Ford sedan -- started and came forward, and when it was about even with him an occupant of the car started shooting. It's not settled whether it was the driver or someone with him. We haven't found anyone that got a good look. He fell right there." Rowcliff pointed. "And stayed there. As you see, we're still at it here. Nothing from inside so far. Vukcic lived alone on the top floor, and there was no one there with him when he left. Of course he ate at his restaurant. Anything else?" 18 "No, thank you." "Don't step off the curb. We're going over the pavement again in daylight." He left us. Wolfe stood a moment, looking down at the spot on the pavement where Marko had dropped, then lifted his head to glance around. A moving spotlight hit his face, and he blinked. Since that was the first time to my knowledge that he had ever started investigating a murder by a personal visit to the scene of the crime -- not counting the occasions when he had been jerked loose by some other impulse, such as saving my life -- I was curious to see how he would proceed. It was a chance he had seldom had. He hopped on it by turning to me and asking, "Which way to the restaurant?" I nodded west. "Up Lexington four blocks and around the corner. We can get a taxi --" "No. We'll walk." He was off. I went along, more and more impressed. The death of his oldest and c
losest friend had certainly hit him hard. He would have to cross five street intersections, with wheeled monsters waiting for him at every corner, ready to spring, but he strode on regardless, as if it were a perfectly natural and normal procedure. 19 Chapter 2 Things were not natural and normal at Rusterman's. The six-foot, square-jawed doorman opened for us and let us pass through, and then blurted to Wolfe's broad back, "Is it true, Mr. Wolfe?" Wolfe ignored it and went on, but I turned and gave him a nod. Wolfe marched on past the cloakroom, so I did likewise. In the big front room, which Marko had called the lounge but which I called the bar because it had one at its far side, there were only a few customers scattered around at the tables, since it was nearly nine-thirty and by that hour the clientele were inside, busy with perdrix en casserole or tornados Beauhamais. The tone of the place, subdued but not stiff, had of course been set by Marko, with the able assistance of Felix, Leo, and Joe, and I had never seen one of them break training by so much as a flicker of an eyelash until that evening. As we entered, Leo, standing 20 at the entrance to the dining room, caught sight of us and started toward us, then wheeled and went back and shouted into the dining room, "Joe!" There were murmurs from the few scattered customers in the bar. Leo wheeled again, clapped his hand to his mouth, crossed to us, and stood staring at Wolfe. I saw sweat on his brow, another misdemeanor. In restaurants that sell squabs for five bucks or more apiece, captains and headwaiters are not allowed to sweat. "It's true," Leo hissed, his hand still covering his mouth. He seemed to be shrinking in front of our eyes, and he was not too big anyway -- not a shorty, but quite narrow up to his shoulders, where he spread out some. He let the hand fall, but kept his voice down. "Good God, Mr. Wolfe, is it true? It must --" A hand gripped his shoulder from behind. Joe was there, and Joe was built for gripping. His years with Marko had polished him so that he no longer looked like a professional wrestler, but he had the size and lines. "Get hold of yourself, damn it," he muttered at Leo. "Did you want a table, Mr. Wolfe? Marko's not here." "I know he's not. He's dead. I don't --" 21 "Please not so loud. Please. Then you know he's dead?" "Yes. I saw him. I don't want a table. Where's Felix?" "Felix is up in the office with two men. They came and said Marko had been shot and killed. He left the dinner to Leo and me and took them upstairs. No one has been told except Vincent at the door because Felix said Marko would not want the dinner to be spoiled. It makes me want to vomit to see them eating and drinking and laughing, but it may be that Felix is right -- and the face he had, it was no time to argue. Do you think he is right? I would myself want to put everybody out and lock the door." Wolfe shook his head. "No. Felix is right. Let them eat. I'm going upstairs. Archie?" He headed for the elevator. The third floor of the building had been remodeled a year or so previously to provide an office in front and three private dining rooms to the rear. Wolfe opened the door to the office, without knocking, and entered, and I followed. The three men in chairs over by a table turned to us. Felix Martin, a wiry, compact little guy with quick black eyes and gray hair -- in his uniform, of course -- got up and started toward us. The 22 other two stayed put. They rated uniforms too, one an inspector's and the other a sergeant's, but didn't wear them to work. "Mr. Wolfe," Felix said. You didn't expect a voice so deep from one that size, even after you were acquainted with it. "The worst thing on earth! The worst thing! everything was going so fine!" Wolfe gave him a nod and went on by to Inspector Cramer. "What have you got?" he demanded. Cramer controlled himself. His big round face was always a little redder, and his cold gray eyes a little colder, when he was exercising restraint. "I know," he conceded, "that you're interested in this one personally. Sergeant Stebbins was saying to me that we would have to make allowances, and I agreed. Also this is one time when I'll gladly take all the help you'll give, so let's all take it easy. Bring chairs, Goodwin." For Wolfe I went and got the one at Marko's desk because it was nearer the size desired than any of the others. For myself I wasn't so particular. As I was joining the party Wolfe was demanding, not taking it easy at all, "Have you got anything?" Cramer tolerated it. "Anything hot, no. The murder was committed just two hours ago." 23 "I know." Wolfe tried to shift to a more acceptable position in the chair. "Of course you have asked Felix if he can name the murderer." His eyes moved. "Can you, Felix?" "No, sir. I can't believe it." "You have no suggestions?" "No, sir." "Where have you been since seven o'clock?" "Me?" The black eyes were steady at Wolfe. "I've been right here." "All the time?" "Yes, sir." "Where has Joe been?" "Right here too." "All the time?" "Yes, sir." "You're sure of that?" "Yes, sir." "Where has Leo been?" "Here too, all the time. Where else would we be at dinnertime? And when Marko didn't come �" "If you don't mind," Cramer cut in, "I've already got this. I don't need �" "I do," Wolfe told him. "I have a double responsibility, Mr. Cramer. If you assume that I intend to see that the murderer of my friend is caught and brought to account with 24 the least possible delay, you are correct. But another onus is on me. Under my friend's will, as you will soon learn officially, I am executor of his estate and trustee ad interim. I am not a legatee. This restaurant is the only substantial asset, and it was left to six of the men who work here, with the biggest shares going to the three men I have just inquired about. They were told of the terms of the will when it was altered a year ago. Mr. Vukcic had no close relatives, and none at all in this country." Cramer was eyeing Felix. "What's this place worth?" Felix shrugged. "I don't know." "Did you know that if Vukcic died you would be part owner of it?" "Certainly. You heard what Mr. Wolfe said." "You hadn't mentioned it." "Good God!" Felix was out of his chair, on his feet, quivering. He stood a moment, got the quivering stopped, sat down again, and leaned forward at Cramer. "It takes time to mention things, officer. There is nothing about Marko and me, about him and us here, that I will not be glad to mention. He was hard about the work, hard and sometimes rough, and he could roar, but he was a great man. Listen, and I'll tell you 25 how I feel about him. Here I am. Here at my side is Marko." Felix tapped his elbow with a finger. "A man appears and points a gun at him and is going to shoot. I jump to put myself in front of Marko. Because I am a big hero? No. I am no hero at all. Only because that's how I feel about Marko. Ask Mr. Wolfe." Cramer grunted. "He was just asking you where you've been since seven o'clock. What about Leo and Joe? How do they feel about Marko?" Felix straightened up. "They will tell you." "How do you think they feel?" "Not like me because they are not of my temperament. But to suppose it possible they would try to hurt him -- never. Joe would not jump in front of Marko to stop the bullet. He would jump for the man with the gun. Leo -- I don't know, but it is my opinion he would yell for help, for the police. I don't sneer at that; it would take more than a coward to yell for help." "It's too bad one of you wasn't there when it happened," Cramer observed. It seemed to me uncalled-for. Obviously he didn't like Felix. "And you say you have no knowledge whatever of anyone who might have wanted Vukcic dead?" 26 "No, sir, I haven't." Felix hesitated. "Of course there is one thing -- or I should say, more than one. There is women. Marko was a gallant man. Only one thing could ever take him away from his work here: a woman. I will not say that to him a woman was more important than a sauce -- he could not be accused of ever neglecting a sauce -- but he had a warm eye for women. After all, it was not essential for him to be in the kitchen when everything was planned and ready, and Joe and Leo and I are competent for the tables and service, so if Marko chose to enjoy dinner at his own table with a guest there was no feeling about it among us. But it might have caused feeling among others. I have no personal knowledge. Myself, I am married with four children and have no time, but everybody knows that women can arouse strong feelings." "So he was a chaser," Sergeant Stebbins growled. "Pfui!" Wolfe growled back at him. "Gallantry is not always a lackey for lust." Which was a fine sentiment with company present, but the fact remained that Wolfe had himself asked me about Marko's relations with women. For the next three hours, there in Marko's office, that subject came close to monopolizing the conversation. 27 Felix was dismissed and told to s
end Joe up. Other Homicide dicks arrived, and an assistant district attorney, and waiters and cooks were brought up for sessions in the private dining rooms; and with each one, after a few personal questions, the emphasis was on the female guests who had eaten at Marko's own table in the past year or so. By the time Wolfe was willing to call it a day and got himself erect and stretched, it was well after midnight and a respectable bulk of data had been collected, including the names of seven women, none of them notorious. Cramer rasped at Wolfe, "You said you intend to see that the murderer is caught and brought to account with the least possible delay. I don't want to butt in, but I'll just mention that the Police Department will be glad to help." Wolfe ignored the sarcasm, thanked him politely, and headed for the door. On the way downtown in the cab I remarked that I had been pleased to note that no one had pronounced the name of Sue Dondero. Wolfe, on the edge of the seat, gripping the strap, set to jump for his life, made no reply. "Though I must say," I added, "there were enough of them without her. They're 28 not going to like it much. By noon tomorrow there'll be thirty-five dicks, five to a candidate, working on that list. I mention it merely for your consideration, in case you are thinking of telling me to have all seven of them in the office at eleven in the morning."