Some Buried Caesar

by Rex Stout

  "Two bits? That's on the level?"

  "Absolutely. Wait a minute, come back here. Since you're a trusty and are therefore technically one of us, you're eligible to join yourself if you want to. But you don't get any two bits for signing yourself up. It wouldn't be ethical. Would it. Presi- dent Goodwin? Wouldn't that be e pluribus unum corpus delicti?"

  "Right."

  "Okay. Go ahead. Slim. Noon is the deadline."

  Basil went back and sat down and picked up the brush. "No damn good as an agitator?" he inquired sarcastically.

  "As an agitator, above average," I admitted. "As a treasurer, only so-so. You're inchned to overdraw."

  I don't know to this day what the C. C. P. U. membership amounted to at its peak. When Slim had got 4 new members signed up he came to our cell and requested a dollar before proceeding further, and I paid him, and by 10 o'clock he had 4 more and got another dollar, but at that point I was re- moved from the scene by a keeper coming to get me. I started out, but Basil interposed to say that I had better leave the other $1.75 with him, since I had assumed the obligation, just in case. I told him he shouldn't be so pessimistic about the President but agreed that his point was valid, and shelled out.

  Captain Barrow, still with no sign of flinching, was wait- ing in the hall outside the warden's office. He told me curtly to come on, and from behind my elbow directed me out of that wing of the building, up two flights of stairs, and along an upper corridor to a door which I had entered on Tuesday afternoon in the company of Osgood and Wolfe. We passed through the anteroom to the inner chamber, and there sat District Attorney Waddell at his desk, with bleary eyes that made him look pudgier than ever.

  I marched up to the desk and told him offensively, "Nero Wolfe wants to see you, mister."

  Barrow snarled, "Sit down, you."

  I sat, and scratched my thigh and shoulder and side and arm ostentatiously.

  Waddell demanded, "What about it? Have you changed your mind?"

  "Yes," I said, "I have. I used to think that the people who make speeches and write books about prison reform are all sentimental softies, but no more. They may or may not-"

  'Turn it off," Barrow growled. "And quit scratching." Waddell said sternly, "I advise you not to be flippant. We have evidence that you possess vital information in a murder case. We want it." He laid a fist on his desk and leaned for- ward. "We're going to get it."

  I grinned at him. "I'm sorry, you'll have to excuse me. My head is fairly buzzing with this new idea I've got and I can't think of anything else, not even murder." I erased the grin and pointed a finger at him and made my tone ominous;

  "Your head will soon be buzzing too. Don't think it won't. The C. C. P. U. is going to clean up, and how would you like to be kicked out of office?"

  "Bah. You damn fool. Do you think Osgood runs this county? What's the C. C. P. U.?"

  I knew he'd ask, since elected persons are always morbid about organizations. I told him impressively, "The Crow- field County Prisoners Union. I'm President. We'll be 100 per cent by noon. Our demands include-"

  I stopped and got my feet under my chair ready for leverage, because Barrow had got up and taken two steps and from his expression I thought for a second he was going to haul off and aim one. He halted and said slowly, "Don't get scared, I couldn't do it here. But there's a room down in the basement or I could take you out to the barracks. Get this. You cut the comedy."

  I shrugged. "If you fellows really want to talk seriously, I'll tell you something. Do you?"

  "You'll find out how serious we are before we finish with you."

  "Okay. First, if you think you can scare me by threats about basements you're too dumb for a mother's tears. Com- mon sense is against it, the probabilities are against it, and I'm against it. Second, the comedy. You asked for it by start- ing it, yesterday afternoon. You have no judgment. It's per- fectly true that there are people who can be opened up by making faces at them and talking loud, but if I was one of them how long do you think I'd last as Nero Wolfe's favorite employee, eating with him at his table? Look at me, anyhow! Can't you tell one kind of mug from another kind? Third, the situation we're in. It's so simple I understand it myself. You think I have knowledge which is your legal property because you're cops working on a murder, and I say I haven't. Under those circumstances, what can I do? I can keep my mouth shut. What can you do? You can arrest me and put me under bond to appear on demand. Finally, when you've gath- ered up everything you can find and put it in order, you can.either pin something on me, like obstruction of justice or accessory or perjury if I've been under oath, or any of that crap, or you can't. I return for a moment to your objection to my comedy. You deserved it because you've acted like a pair of comics yourselves."

  I turned my palms up. "Were any of the words too long for you?"

  Barrow sat down and looked at Waddell. The District At- torney said, "We don't think you have knowledge of facts, we know you have. And that's no comedy. Will you give them to us?"

  "Nothing to give."

  "Do you know your jeopardy? Have you had legal advice?"

  "I don't need it. Didn't you hear my lecture? Find a lawyer that can beat it."

  "You mentioned a bond. If you apply for release on bail, I'll oppose it. If your application is granted, it will be as high as I can make it."

  "That's jake. Don't start worrying your little head about that on top of all your other troubles. I don't believe a rustic judge can look me in the eye and hold me without bail. The amount is a matter of indifference. My sister's father is a rich sewer tycoon."

  "Your father? Where?"

  "I said my sister's father. My family connections are none of your business, and besides, they're too complicated for you to understand. He is also occasionally my mother's father, on account of the fact that on the telephone last night my sister was my mother. But he isn't my father because I've never met him."

  Barrow's head was twisted with his eyes fixed on me search- ingly. "By God, I don't know," he said in a tone of doubtful surprise. "Maybe we ought to have Doc Sackett examine you."

  Waddell disagreed. "It would cost 5 dollars and it's not worth it. Put him back in.the cooler. If he's starting any trou- ble down there with this C. C. P. U. stuff, tell Oilie to put him in solitary. Tell Oilie he'd better investigate-"

  The door popped open and Nero Wolfe walked in.

  He looked neat and rested, with a clean yellow shirt on and the brown tie with tan stripes which Constanza Berin had sent him from Paris, but his shoes hadn't been shined. My glance took in those details as he crossed the room to us with his cus- tomary unhurried waddle. I scratched my leg furiously.

  He stopped in front of me and demanded, "What are you doing? What's the matter?"

  "Nothing. I itch."

  "Look at your coat. Look at your trousers. Did you sleep in them?"

  "What do you think I slept in, silken raiment? I'm glad you stopped in, it's nice to see you. We've been chatting. They're just sending me back to the you know. Did you hear from my mother? She's stricken."

  He muttered, "Pfui," turned from me and looked at the other two and said good morning, and cast his eyes around. Then he took a step toward Barrow and said in his best man- ner, "Excuse me. Captain, but you have the only chair that is endurable for me. I'm sure you wouldn't mind changing," Barrow opened his mouth, but shut it again and got up and moved.

  Wolfe nodded thanks, sat down, and directed a composed gaze at the district attorney. "You're a hard man to catch, sir," he observed. "I spent hours last evening trying to find you. I even suspect I was being evaded."

  "I was busy."

  "Indeed. To any effect?"

  Barrow growled. Waddell leaned forward again with his fist on his desk. "Look here, Wolfe," he said in a nasty tone. "I've concluded you're no better than a waste of time, and probably worse. Thinking over what you told me about your talk with Bronson, what does it add up to? Zero. You were stringing me. You talk about evading! For the present
I've only got one thing for you: a piece of advice. Either instruct your man here to open up and spill it, or do so yourself."

  Wolfe sighed. "You're in a huff. Yesterday Captain Barrow, now you. You gentlemen are extraordinarily touchy."

  "I'm touchy enough to know when I'm being strung. I don't enjoy it. And you're making a mistake when you figure that with Fred Osgood behind you, you can get away with any- thing you want to. Osgood may have owned this county once, but not any more, and he may be headed for a disagreeable surprise himself."

  "I know." Wolfe was mild, and look resigned. "It's incredi- ble, but judging from rumors that have reached Mr. Osgood you are actually entertaining a theory that Bronson killed his son, and the killing of Bronson was an eye for an eye. Mr. Waddell, that is infantile. It is so obviously infantile that I refuse to expound it for you. And your suggestion that I rely on Mr. Osgood's position and influence to protect me from penalties I have incurred is equally infantile. If I palaver with you at all-"

  "You don't need to," Waddell snapped. "Peddle it some- where else." Abruptly he stood up. "For two cents I'd stick you in with Goodwin. Beat it. On out. The next time I listen to you it will be in a courtroom. Take Goodwin down. Cap- tain."

  "Oh, no." Wolfe was still mild. "No, indeed. I bothered to see you only on Mr. Goodwin's account. You'll listen to me now."

  "And who'll tell me why?"

  "I will. Because I know who murdered Clyde Osgood and Howard Bronson, and you don't."

  Barrow straightened. Waddell stared. I grinned, and wished Basil was there to tell me which spoon the bean was under.

  "Furthermore," Wolfe went on quietly, "there is a very slim chance that you could ever find out, and no chance at all that you would ever be able to prove it. I have already found out, and I shall soon have proof. Under the circumstances, I should say it is even your duty to listen to me."

  Barrow snapped, "I'd suggest having a judge listen to you."

  "Pfui. For shame. Captain! You mean threaten me with the same treatment you have given Mr. Goodwin? I merely tell the judge I blathered. If he proves to be also an imbecile and holds me, I procure bail and then what do you do? You are helpless. I assure you-"

  Waddell exploded, "It's a goddam cheap bluff!" Wolfe grimaced. "Please, sir. My reputation… but no, I have too much respect for my reputation-"

  "You say you know who murdered Clyde Osgood? And Bronson?"

  "I do."

  "Then by God you're right. I'll say I'll listen to you." Wad- dell sat down and pulled his phone over, and after a moment barked into it, "Send Phillips in."

  Wolfe raised his brows. "Phillips?"

  "Stenographer."

  Wolfe shook his head. "Oh, no. You misunderstand. I only came for Mr. Goodwin. I need him."

  "You do? So do we. We're keeping him. I repeat to you what I've told him, if there's an application for bail I'll oppose it."

  The door opened and a young man with pimples appeared.

  Waddell nodded at him and he took a chair, opened his note- book, poised his pen, and inquired, "Names?" Waddell mut- tered at him, "Later. Take it."

  Wolfe, disregarding the performance, said in a satisfied tone, "Now we've arrived at the point. It's Mr. Goodwin I want. If you hadn't eluded me last night I'd have got him then. Here are the alternatives for you to choose from. It is simplified for me by the fact that the sheriff, Mr. Lake, hap- pens to be a protege of Mr. Osgood's, while you are not. I understand you and Mr. Lake are inclined to pull in opposite directions.

  "First. Release Mr. Goodwin at once. With his help I shall shortly have my proof perfected, and I'll deliver it to you, with the murderer, alive or dead.

  "Second. Refuse to release Mr. Goodwin. Keep him. With- out his help and therefore with more difficulty, I'll get the proof anyway, and it and the murderer will go to Mr. Lake. I am told that the Crowfield Daily Journal will be glad to cooperate with him and see that a full and correct account of his achieve- ment is published, which is fortunate, for the public deserves to know what it gets for the money it pays its servants. It's a stroke of luck for you that you have Mr. Goodwin. But for that, I wouldn't be bothering with you at all."

  Wolfe regarded the district attorney inquiringly. "Your choice, sir?"

  I grinned. "He means take your pick."

  Barrow growled at me, "Close your trap."

  Waddell declared, "I still think it's a bluff."

  Wolfe lifted his shoulders a quarter of an inch and dropped them. "Then it's Mr. Lake."

  "You said you know who murdered Clyde Osgood and Howard Bronson. Do you mean one man committed both crimes?"

  "That won't do. You get information after my assistant is released, not before,-and when I'm ready to give it." "In a year or two, huh?"

  "Hardly that long. Say within 24 hours. Less than that, I hope."

  "And you actually know who the murderer is and you've got evidence?"

  "Yes, to the first. I'll have satisfactory evidence." "What kind of evidence?"

  Wolfe shook his head. "I tell you it won't do. I'm not play- ing a guessing game, and I won't be pumped."

  "Convincing evidence?"

  "Conclusive."

  Waddell sat back, pulled at his ear, and said nothing. Fi- nally he turned to the stenographer and told him, "Give me that notebook and beat it." That command having been obeyed, he sat again a minute and then looked at Barrow and demanded sourly, "What about it. Captain? What the hell are we going to do?"

  "I don't know." Barrow compressed his Ups. "I know what I'd like to do."

  "That's a big help. You've had 6 or 8 men on this thing and they haven't dug up a single solitary fragment, and this smart elephant knows who did it and will have conclusive evidence within 24 hours. So he says." Waddell suddenly jerked up his chin and whirled to Wolfe: "Who knows it be- sides you? If Lake or any of his deputies have been holding out on me-"

  "No," Wolfe assured him. "That's all right. They're in the boat with you and Captain Barrow, with no hooks and no bait."

  "Then when did you pick it up? Where have you been? Goodwin certainly didn't help any, since we collared him soon after Bronson's body was found. By God, if this is a stall…"

  Wolfe shook his head. "Please. I've known who killed Clyde Osgood since Monday night; I knew it as soon as I saw the bull's face; and I knew the motive. Your incredulous stare only makes you look foolish. Likewise with Mr. Bronson; the thing was obvious."

  "You knew all about it when you were sitting there in that chair Tuesday afternoon? Talking to me, the district attorney?"

  "Yes. But there was no evidence-or rather, there was, but before I could reach it it had been destroyed. Now I must find a substitute for it, and shall."

  "What was the evidence that was destroyed?"

  "Not now. It's nearly 11 o'clock, and Mr. Goodwin and I must be going. We have work to do. By the way, I don't want to be annoyed by surveillance. It will be futile, and if we're followed I shall consider myself released from the bargain."

  "Will you give me your word of honor that you'll do lust what you've agreed to do, with no reservations and no quib- bling?"

  "Not a word of honor. I don't like the phrase. The word "honor' has been employed too much by objecnoname people and has been badly soiled. I give you my word. But I can't sit here talking about it all day. I understand that my assistant has been legally committed, so the release must be legal too."

  Waddell sat and pulled at his ear. He frowned at Barrow, but apparently read no helpful hint on the captain's stony countenance. He reached for his telephone and requested a number, and after a little wait spoke into it: "Frank? Ask Judge Hutchins if I can run up and see him for a minute. I want to ask him to vacate a warrant."

  19

  I ASKED, "Shall I go get him?" Wolfe said, "No. We'll wait."

  We were in a room at the exposition offices, not the one where we had met Osgood Tuesday afternoon. This was small- er and contained desks and files and chairs and was cluttered with papers. It was n
oon. On leaving the courthouse with Wolfe I had been surprised to find that our sedan was parked out front; he explained that an Osgood employee had brought it from where I had left it the day before. He had instructed me to head for the exposition grounds, and our first stop had been the main exhibits building, where we gave the orchids an inspection and a spraying, and Wolfe arranged with an official for their care until Saturday, and the crating and shipping when the exposition closed. Then we had walked to the offices and been shown to Room 9. I was allowed to know that we expected to meet Lew Bennett there, but he hadn't arrived, and at noon we were still waiting for him.

  I said, "If you ask my opinion, I think the best thing we can do is disguise ourselves as well as possible and jump in the car and drive like hell for New York. Or maybe across the line to Vermont and hide out in an old marble quarry."

  "Stop that scratching."

  I stuck my hands in my pockets. "You realize that I have been studying your face for 10 years, its lights and its shadows, the way it is arranged, and the way you handle it. And I say in all disrespect that I do not believe that the evidence which you mentioned to those false alarms is in existence."

  "It isn't."

  "I refer to the evidence which you promised to deliver within 24 hours."

  "So do I."

  "But it doesn't exist."

  "No."

  "But you're going to deliver it?"

  "Yes."

  I stared. "Okay. I suppose it was bound to happen sooner or later, but it's so painful to see that I wish it had happened to me first. Once at my mother's knee, back in 1839 I think it was-"

  "Shut up, I'm going to make it."

  "What? The bughouse?"

  "The evidence. There is none. The bull was cremated. Noth- ing else remained to demonstrate the motive for murdering Clyde, and even if there had been other incriminating de- tails-and there were none-they would have been useless. As for Bronson, Mr, Lake reports a vacuum. No fingerprints, ex- cept yours on the wallet, no one who remembers seeing him enter the shed, no one who saw him in anybody's company, no one with any discoverable motive. From the New York end, tracing his phone calL so far nothing-and of course there can be nothing. A complete vacuum. Under the circum- stances there is only-ah! Good morning, sir."