by Rex Stout
Wolfe grunted, “About Miss Livsey, by the way, there is a detail. For over an hour, earlier that Friday evening, your brother walked the streets with her, talking. What were they talking about?” Cecily looked surprised. “I have no idea.” She twisted around. “What was it, Miss Livsey?” Hester was silent.
Wolfe tried it. He opened his eyes at her. “Surely you’re not going to stick to that lie now? If you do, I warn you I’ll resent it. This will be left with either my witness a liar or you, and I don’t intend it to be him. What were you discussing with Mr. Naylor?” Hester spoke, to Wolfe, emphatically not to Cecily. “He wanted to see me. He asked me to meet him.” “What did he want?” “He thought I had letters that Mr. Pine had written me, and he wanted them.” “Did you give them to him?” “I didn’t have them. I had destroyed them.” Hester swallowed. “He didn’t believe me. He had asked for them before, and he threatened to dismiss me-from my job -if I didn’t give them to him.” “Good God!” I blurted. I couldn’t help it. “Why didn’t you say so long ago?” She was on speaking terms with me too, for her eyes came my way. “How could I?
And have it all come out-about Mr. Pine?” “Does Hoff know all this?” “No. He just knows I need help.” “Did you know Pine had killed Moore? And Naylor?” “No, I-I didn’t really know anything. How could I? What I thought-what does that matter?” Wolfe wasn’t interested. He took over, asking Cecily, “What about the letters your husband got from Miss Livsey? Your brother had them. They weren’t found among his papers. Where are they?” “They were destroyed too,” she said. “My husband destroyed them. He got them- that Friday evening.” She was frowning. “But isn’t that enough? I have trusted you further than I have ever trusted any man. I admit I had to. What assurance have I that it won’t go to the police?” I gawked at her. Was she, in addition to everything else, a ninny?
“None at all,” Wolfe said. “You have done what you could to straighten it out, but there is the matter of your husband to be taken care of. Surely you can’t expect-” The phone rang. I transferred my notebook to my right hand and picked up the receiver.
“Nero Wolfe’s office, Archie Goodwin speaking.” “Archie, get this!” It was Bill Gore’s voice.
“Okay, give it to me.” He did so. It was a straight factual report of an event. I listened, asked a question or two, hung up, and turned to tell Wolfe.
“News from Bill Gore. Mr. Jasper Pine fell from a window of his office on the thirty-sixth floor. Bill has seen him, and from his description I would say that he is in worse shape than if a car had run over him. Dead on arrival.” A little gasp had come from Hester’s corner. Cecily made no sound and no move.
Wolfe heaved a sigh. He spoke to Cecily.
“You didn’t spend all your time dressing, did you, Mrs. Pine? A telephone call was enough, was it? Naturally I am not surprised. I was quite aware that you would have been much more discreet with me otherwise.” No, it wasn’t a ninny that she was. Protect your woman? Not that one. She didn’t need it.
CHAPTER Thirty-Five
Four days and nights had brought us to another Saturday. There had been, on Wednesday, a long session with Cramer. He had left, after two hours in the red leather chair, with as little love for us as when he arrived. He could beef, and did, but that was all, for he had no peg on which to hang anything. He would have dearly loved to see a headline in the Gazetee, POLICE SOLVE TWO MURDERS, but he never did.
There had been, on Friday, the day after Jasper Pine’s funeral, a long session with the three vice-presidents, one of whom was acting president. It was strictly off the record, and as far as we were concerned that was as far as it ever got. Cecily had talked to them, with her block of stock to back it up, and I suppose her father had too. The Board of Directors never got to see a transcript of the notes in my book. Only one copy of the transcript was made, and it was locked in our safe and is still there.
Saturday at eleven in the morning, when Wolfe came down from the plant rooms I was busy at my desk. There were a couple of little typing jobs connected with the Naylor-Kerr affair, one of them being the bill for services rendered. It included a careful and exact itemization of expenses incurred- Wolfe was always a stickler for that-but the expenses were peanuts compared to the main entry, the fee. I would have been willing to defend the position that he had really earned one-tenth of it, which after all meant only one extra cipher.
I was typing the itemization of expenses when the phone rang and I answered it.
“Archie? Guess who this is!” “Now, Gwynne darling. That voice? Don’t be silly.” “Then you haven’t entirely forgotten me? I was sure you had. Aren’t we ever going to see you in the stock department again?” “I guess not. I can’t stand the propinquity. P-R-O-“ “Don’t be so smart. It’s too bad because I have a lot of things to tell you! I never knew so much to happen in one week! Mr. Rosenbaum is the new head of the department, and Mr. Appleton has been made-oh, I just have to see you! I have nothing to do this evening. Have you?” The fact was I hadn’t. I had had a date with Lily Rowan, but she was in bed with a cold.
“I am simply dying,” I declared, “to hear about Mr. Appleton. Meet me at the bar at Rusterman’s at seven.” “But they don’t have dancing there! I thought we-” “Excuse me for interrupting, but I have work to do. We can move on after we eat and dance all night. See you at seven o’clock, dearie.” I ignored the snort from Wolfe’s direction and resumed at the typewriter. When the bill was finished I read it over and checked the additions, folded it neatly and put it in an envelope, and filed the carbon in the cabinet over by the couch. Then I returned to the typewriter, inserted a sheet of my personal stationery, dated it, and started: Dear Mrs. Pine: Last night I went I had to stop to answer the phone again.
“Archie? This is Rosa.” “Well, well. You don’t need to tell me. That voice. How are the curves?” “Now really.” She tittered. “How can you find out on the telephone? You know, I went to bed last night at nine o’clock, and I didn’t get up till ten this morning, and I feel simply wonderful! While I was drinking my coffee it reminded me of you, and this is Saturday, and I wondered if you were doing anything this evening.” “Nothing special. Are you?” “No, that’s why I called. I thought-” “Good for you. Meet me at the bar at Rusterman’s at seven o’clock.” “Oh, that wonderful wine! A.nd steak?” “Sure, two steaks. Or maybe thiree. Seven sharp?” “Yes!” Wolfe snorted again, and again. I ignored it. Anyway, I had to put ray rnimd on my work. This was not a case of transcribing from notes; I had to concentrate on a job of original composition. I proceeded with it: Dear Mrs. Pine: Last night I went to a fortune-teller, which is something I seldom do. What was bothering me was your remark the other day that everybody gets tiresome sooner or later, and I wanted to find out where I stood. She told me that the most I could count on was two months. It seems that I am wonderful as long as I last and then I go tiresome all at once without any warning.
I regret to say that under the circumstances it wouldn’t be worth it to you, and I am therefore returning herewith the baseball tickets. It is still two weeks before the season starts, so you have plenty of time to dig up another prospect.
Sincerely, I was debating whether to sign it just Archie or with my full name, and had decided in favor of the latter when the phone interrupted me again. I picked it up.
“Nero Wolfe’s office, Archie Goodwin speaking.” “This is Hester Livsey, Mr. Goodwin.” “Good morning.” I cleared my throat. “What do you want?” “I know I deserve that,” she said. “I want to say I’m sorry I was rude to you when you phoned Thursday evening. I-I hope you’ll understand. I didn’t feel like anything, and I was terribly rude. I wanted to explain-” “Don’t mention it. Feeling better?” “Oh, yes, much better. I really would like to explain some things to you. Would you care to come over here this evening-you know my address, don’t you? It’s just a little apartment where I live with my mother.” “In Brooklyn.” “Yes. Twenty-three ninety-four-” “Yeah, I know. I gues
s I can find it. How about taking a ride with me tomorrow, in Mr. Wolfe’s rackety old sedan, to the country somewhere and see if spring has come?” “I’m sorry, I couldn’t make it tomorrow because my mother and I are going to visit some friends. Don’t bother, really-” “No bother at all.” An idea struck me. “The trouble is I’m so uncouth I’m afraid I’d make a bad impression on your mother. I think you ought to know me better before you invite me to your home. Do you know where Rusterman’s restaurant is?”
“Rusterman’s? Certainly.” “That’s a nice quiet place with good food. How about meeting me in Rusterman’s bar at seven this evening?” “Well-that wasn’t-I wasn’t fishing for a dinner-” “No, I know, you don’t fish. But I think it might be very enjoyable, at least for me. Will you?” “Well-” “You will.” “All right, I will.” I hung up, reached for my pen, and signed the letter to Cecily.
Wolfe growled at me, “What the devil are you going to do with all of them?” I grinned at him. “God knows, I don’t. I’m so damn sociable. I can’t bear to disappoint people.”
The End
About this Title
This eBook was created using ReaderWorks® Publisher 2.0, produced by OverDrive, Inc.
For more information about ReaderWorks, please visit us on the Web at www.overdrive.com/readerworks
This file was created with BookDesigner program
[email protected]
21/08/2007
LRS to LRF parser v.0.9; Mikhail Sharonov, 2006; msh-tools.com/ebook/
FB2 document info
Document ID: 4063c8ac-94cf-4196-ba39-870c0668ef2f
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 30.4.2012
Created using: calibre 0.8.13 software
Document authors :
Rex Stout
About
This file was generated by Lord KiRon's FB2EPUB converter version 1.1.5.0.
(This book might contain copyrighted material, author of the converter bears no responsibility for it's usage)
Этот файл создан при помощи конвертера FB2EPUB версии 1.1.5.0 написанного Lord KiRon.
(Эта книга может содержать материал который защищен авторским правом, автор конвертера не несет ответственности за его использование)
http://www.fb2epub.net
https://code.google.com/p/fb2epub/
