Homicide Trinity
Page 7
"About where you are. About three feet closer to
me."
"What did she say?"
"That she wanted to see Nero Wolfe about something
46 Rex Stout
urgent. No, she said that at the door. She said her case
was private and very confidential."
"She used the word 'case'?"
"Yes."
"What else did she say?"
"That her name was Bertha Aaron and she was the
private secretary of Mr. Lament Otis, senior partner in
the law firm of Otis, Edey, Heydecker, and Jett."
"What else did she say?"
Naturally I had known that the time would come to
lie, and decided this was it. "Nothing," I said.
"Absolutely nothing?"
"Right."
"You are Nero Wolfe's confidential assistant. He was
engaged elsewhere. Do you expect me to believe that
you did not insist on knowing the nature of her case
before you went to him?"
The phone rang. "Not if you'd rather not," I said, and
swiveled, lifted the receiver and spoke. "Nero Wolfe's
residence, Archie Goodwin speaking."
I recognized the voice. "This is Rita Sorell, Mr. Good-
win. I have decided—"
"Hold it please. Just a second." I pressed a palm over
the transmitter and told Wolfe, "That woman you sent
a card to. The one who told me I was handsome." He
reached for his receiver and put it to his ear and I
returned to mine. "Okay. You have decided?"
"I have decided that it will be best to tell you what
you came this morning to find out. I have decided that
you were too clever for me, not mentioning at all what
you had written on the card, when that was what you
came for. Your saying that you made it up, that you
tried to write something that would make me curious—
you didn't expect me to believe that. You were too
clever for me. So I might as well confess, since you
already know it. I did sit with a man in a booth in a
lunchroom one evening last week—what evening was
it?"
"Monday."
The Homicide Trinity 47
"That's right. And you want to know who the man
was. Don't you?"
"It would help."
"I want to help. You are very handsome. His name is
Gregory Jett."
"Many thanks. If you want to help—"
She had hung up.
Chapter 6
I cradled the receiver and rotated my chair. Wolfe
pushed his phone back and said, "She is a con-
founded nuisance."
"Yes, sir."
"I suppose we'll have to humor her."
"Yes, sir. Or shoot her."
"Not a welcome option." He arose. "Gentlemen, I
must ask you to excuse me. Come, Archie." He headed
for the hall and I got up and followed. Turning left, he
pushed the door to the kitchen. Fritz was there at the
big table, chopping an onion. The door swung shut.
Wolfe turned to face me. "Very well. You know her.
You have seen her and talked with her. What about it?"
"I'd have to toss a coin. Several coins. You have seen
Jett and talked with him. It could be that she merely
wanted to find out if we already knew who it was, and if
so she might have named the right one and she might
not. Or it might have been a real squeal; she decided
that Jett killed Bertha Aaron, and either she loves
justice no matter what it costs her, or she was afraid
Jett might break and her spot would be too hot for
comfort. I prefer the latter. Or it wasn't Jett, it was
Edey or Heydecker, and she is trying to ball it up—and
she may be sore at Jett on account of the episode. If it
backfires, if we already know it was Edey or Hey-
48 Rex Stout
decker, what the hell. Telling me on the phone isn't
swearing to it on the stand. She can deny she called me.
Or she might—"
'That's enough for now. Have you a choice?"
"No, sir. I told you she's a gem."
He grunted. He reached for a piece of onion, put it in
his mouth, and chewed. When it was down he asked
Fritz, "Ebenezer?" and Fritz told him no, Elite. He
turned to me. "In any case, she has ripped it open. Even
if she is merely trying to muddle it we can't afford to
assume that she hasn't communicated with him—or
soon will."
"She couldn't unless he phoned her. They've been at
the DA's office all morning."
He nodded. "Then we'll tell him first. You'll have to
recant."
"Right. Do we save anything?"
"I think not. The gist first and we'll see."
He made for the door. In the hall we heard a voice
from the office, Edey's thin tenor, but it stopped as we
appeared. As I passed in front of Heydecker he stuck a
foot out, but possibly not to trip me; he may have been
merely shifting in his chair.
When Wolfe was settled in his he spoke. "Gentlemen,
Mr. Goodwin and I have decided that you deserve can-
dor. That was Mrs. Morton Sorell on the phone. What
she said persuaded us—"
"Did you say Sorell?" Heydecker demanded. He was
gawking and so was Edey. Evidently Jett never
gawked.
"I did. Archie?"
I focused on Heydecker. "If she had called twenty
seconds earlier," I told him, "I wouldn't have had to
waste a lie. I did insist on knowing the nature of Bertha
Aaron's case before I went to Mr. Wolfe, and she told
me. She said she had accidentally seen a member of the
firm in secret conference with Mrs. Morton Sorell, the
firm's opponent in an important ease. She said that
after worrying about it for a week she had told him
about it that afternoon, yesterday, and asked for an
The Homicide Trinity 49
explanation, and he didn't have one, so he was a traitor.
She said she was afraid to tell Mr. Otis because he had a
weak heart and it might kill him, and she wouldn't tell
another firm member because he might be a traitor too.
So she had come to Nero Wolfe."
I had been wrong about Jett. Now he was gawking
too. He found his tongue first. "This is incredible. I
don't believe it!"
"Nor I," Heydecker said.
"Nor I," Edey said, his tenor a squeak.
"Do you expect us to believe," Heydecker demanded,
"that Bertha Aaron would come to an outsider with a
story that would gravely damage the firm if it became
known?"
Wolfe cut in. "No more cross-examination, Mr. Hey-
decker. I indulged you before, but not now. If questions
are to be asked I'll do the asking. As for Mr. Goodwin's
bona fides, he has given a signed statement to the
police, and he is not an ass. Also—"
"The police?" Edey squeaked. "Good God!"
"It's absolutely incredible," Jett declared.
Wolfe ignored them. "Also I allowed Mr. Otis to read
a copy of the statement when he came here last night.
He agreed not to divulge its contents when he came
here last night. He agreed not to divulge i
ts contents
before ten o'clock tomorrow morning, to give me till
then to plan a course—a course based on the natural
assumption that Miss Aaron was killed by the man she
had accused of treachery—an assumption I share with
the police. Evidently the police have preferred to re-
serve the statement, and so have I, but not now—since
Mrs. Sorell has named the member of your firm she was
seen with. On the phone just now. One of you."
"This isn't real," Edey squeaked. "This is a night-
mare." Heydecker sputtered, "Do you dare to
suggest—"
"No, Mr. Heydecker." Wolfe flattened a palm on his
desk. "I will not submit to questioning; I will choose the
facts I'm willing to share. I suggest nothing; I am
reporting. I neglecting to say that Miss Aaron did not
50 Rex Stout
name the member of the firm she had seen with Mrs.
Sorell. Now Mrs. Sorell has named him, but I am not
satisfied of her veracity. Mr. Goodwin saw her this
morning and found her devious. I'm not going to tell you
whom she named, and that will make the pressure on
one of you almost unendurable."
The pressure wasn't exactly endurable for any of
them. They were exchanging glances, and they weren't
glances of sympathy and partnership. In a spot like that
the idea I mentioned might be expected to work, but it
didn't. Two of them were really suspicious of their
partners and one was only pretending to be, but it
would have taken a better man than me to pick him;
better even than Wolfe, whose eyes, narrowed to slits,
were taking them in.
He was going on. "The obvious assumption is that
you—one of you—followed Miss Aaron when she left
the premises yesterday after she had challenged you,
and when you saw her enter my house your alarm was
acute and exigent. You sought a telephone and rang
this number. In Mr. Goodwin's absence she answered
the phone, and consented to admit you. If you can—"
"It was pure chance that she was alone," Edey ob-
jected. The idea man.
"Pfui. If I'm not answering questions, Mr. Edey,
neither am I debating trifles. With your trained minds
that is no knot for you. Speaking again to one of you: if
you could be identified by inquiry into your where-
abouts and movements yesterday afternoon the police
would have the job already done and you would be in
custody. All that they have been told by you and by the
entire personnel of your office is being checked by an
army of men well qualified for the task. But since they
have reserved the information supplied by Mr. Good-
win, I doubt if they have asked you about Monday
evening of last week. Eight days ago. Have they?"
"Why should they?" It was Jett.
"Because that was when one of you was seen by Miss
Aaron in conference with Mrs. Sorell. I'm going to ask
you now, but first I should tell you of an understanding
The Homicide Trinity 51
I had with Mr. Otis last night. In exchange for informa-
tion he furnished I agreed that in exposing the mur-
derer I would minimize, as far as possible, the damage
to the reputation of his firm. I will observe that agree-
ment, so manifestly, for two of you, the sooner this is
over the better. Mr. Jett. How did you spend Monday
evening, December twenty-ninth, say from six o'clock
to midnight?"
Jett's eyes were still deep-set, but they weren't
dreamy. They had been glued on Wolfe ever since I had
recanted, and he hadn't moved a muscle. He spoke. "If
this is straight, if all you've said is true, including the
phone call from Mrs. Sorell, the damage to the firm is
done and you can do nothing to minimize it. No one
under heaven can."
"I can try. I intend to."
"How?"
"By meeting contingencies as they arise."
Heydecker put in, "You say Mr. Otis knows all this?
He was here last night?"
"Yes. I am not a parrot and you are not deaf. Well,
Mr. Jett? Monday evening of last week?"
"I was at a theater with a friend."
"The friend's name?"
"Miss Ann Paige."
"What theater?"
"The Drew. The play was Practice Makes Perfect.
Miss Paige and I left the office together shortly before
six and had dinner at Rusterman's. We were together
continuously until after midnight."
"Thank you. Mr. Edey?"
"That was the Monday before New Year's," Edey
said. "I got home before six o'clock and ate dinner there
and was there all evening."
"Alone?"
"No. My son and his wife and two children spent the
holiday week with us. They went to the opera with my
wife and daughter, and I stayed home with the chil-
dren."
"How old are the children?"
52 Rex Stout
"Two and four."
"Where is your home?"
"An apartment. Park Avenue and Sixty-ninth
Street."
"Did you go out at all?"
"No."
"Thank you. Mr. Heydecker?"
"I was at the Manhattan Chess Club watching the
tournament. Bobby Fischer won his adjourned game
with Weinstein in fifty-eight moves. Larry Evans drew
with Kaime and Reshevsky drew with Mednis."
"Where is the Manhattan Chess Club?"
"West Sixty-fourth Street."
"Did play start at six o'clock?"
"Certainly not. I was in court all day and had things
to do at the office. My secretary and I had sandwiches
at my desk."
"What time did you leave the office?"
"Around eight o'clock. My secretary would know."
"What time did you arrive at the chess club?"
"Fifteen or twenty minutes after I left the office."
Heydecker suddenly moved and was on his feet. "This
is ridiculous," he declared. "You may be on the square,
Wolfe, I don't know. If you are, God help us." He
turned. "I'm going to see Otis. You coming, Frank?"
He was. The brilliant idea man, judging from his
expression, had none at all. He pulled his feet back,
moved his head slowly from side to side to tell hope
good-by, and arose. They didn't ask the eleven-percent
partner to join them, and apparently he wasn't going to,
but as I was reaching for Edey's ulster on the hall rack
here came Jett, and when I opened the door he was the
first one out. I stood on the stoop, getting a breath of
air, and watched them heading for Ninth Avenue three
abreast, a solid front of mutual trust and understand-
ing, in a pig's eye.
In the office, Wolfe was leaning back with his eyes
closed. As I reached my desk the phone rang. It was
Saul Panzer, to report that there had been no sign of
Mrs. Sorell. I told him to hold the wire and relayed it to
The Homicide Trinity 53
Wolfe, and asked if he wanted to put them on the alibis
we had just collected. "Pfui," he said, and I told Saul t
o
carry on.
I swiveled. "I was afraid," I said, "that you might be
desperate enough to try it, checking their alibis. It's
very interesting, the different ways there are of crack-
ing a case. It depends on who you are. If you're just a
top-flight detective, me for instance, all you can do is
detect. You'd rather go after an alibi than eat. When
you ask a man where he was at eleven minutes past
eight you put it in your notebook, and you wear out a
pair of shoes looking for somebody who says he was
somewhere else. But if you're a genius you don't give a
damn about alibis. You ask him where he was only to
keep the conversation going while you wait for some-
thing to click. You don't even listen—"
"Nonsense," he growled. "They have no alibis."
I nodded. "You didn't listen."
"I did listen. Their alibis are worthless. One with his
fiancee, one watching a chess tournament, one at home
with young children in bed asleep. Bah. I asked on the
chance that one of them, possibly two, might be elimi-
nated, but no. There are still three."