2:55 when the doorbell rang and I went to the hall for a
look through the one-way glass panel in the front door,
and there he was on the stoop, no sign of a sag in the
heavy broad shoulders, the round red face framed by
his turned-up overcoat collar and the brim of his gray
felt which should have been retired long ago. Since he
had no appointment it would have been proper to open
the door the two inches allowed by the chain bolt and
greet him through the crack, but that always annoyed
him, and if it turned out that I had tampered with
evidence it wouldn't hurt to show him now that I had
my good points. So I pulled the door wide open. Without
even a nod, let alone a civil greeting, he crossed the sill,
tramped down the hall into the office and on to Wolfe's
desk, and demanded, "What time did Mrs. Barry Hazen
get here this morning?"
Wolfe tilted his head back to look up at him and
inquired, "Is that snow on your hat?"
Having entered and detoured around him, I too
looked at the hat. There was nothing whatever on it
except signs of age, and outdoors the sun was shining.
It would fluster any man to have it put to him that one
removes one's hat when one enters a house, but Cramer
is ready for anything when he faces Wolfe. It didn't faze
him. He merely barked, "I asked you a question!"
"Half past eleven," Wolfe said.
"When did she leave?"
"Shortly before one o'clock."
Cramer took his overcoat off, ignored my offer to
take it, put it on the arm of the red leather chair, and
sat. "An hour and a half," he said, not barking but a little
hoarse. He is always a little hoarse when he is dealing
with Wolfe. "What did she have to say?" He hadn't
touched the hat.
Wolfe swiveled and leaned back. "Mr. Cramer. I
know that Mrs. Hazen's husband has been shot and
88 Rex Stout
killed. She was with me when the news came on my
radio. I know that when I have been consulted by a
person who is in any way connected with a death by
violence you automatically assume that I have knowl-
edge of evidence that would be useful in your investi-
gation. Sometimes your assumption is valid; sometimes
it isn't. This time it isn't; that is my considered opinion.
Mrs. Hazen consulted me in confidence. If at any time I
have reason to think that by refusing to disclose what
she told me I am obstructing justice, I'll communicate
with you at once."
Cramer got a cigar from a pocket, rolled it between
his palms, stuck it in his mouth, and clamped his teeth
on it. He does that instead of counting ten, when he
knows that the words that are on his tongue would
make things worse instead of better. He took the cigar
from his mouth. "Some day," he said, "you're going to
fall off and get hurt, and this could be it. If and when you
find it gets too hot to hang onto it any longer, and you
turn loose, arid you have obstructed justice by not
telling me now, I'll get your hide. Nothing and no one
will stop me. I'm asking you to tell me what Mrs. Barry
Hazen said when she came to see you nine hours after
her husband was murdered."
Wolfe shook his head. "I decline to tell you because I
believe, as matters stand now, that it is not pertinent to
your inquiry. Should I have occasion to change my
mind—and by the way, I can offer you an opportunity
to change it for me. Archie, where's that bullet?"
I got the envelope from my drawer, took the bullet
out, and handed it to him. Cramer's sharp gray eyes
were on me and followed the bullet back to Wolfe.
Wolfe took it in his fingers, barely glanced at it, handed
it back to me, and said, "Give it to Mr. Cramer." As I did
so he turned to Cramer. "This will be pointless if you
have found the weapon that was used to shoot Mr.
Hazen. Have you?"
"No."
"It will also be pointless if you have not found the
bullet that killed him. Have you?"
The Homicide Trinity 89
"Yes."
"Then I suggest that you have your laboratory com-
pare that bullet with it. If you find that they were shot
by the same gun let me know at once and I'll have some
information for you. I would want to see the laboratory
report, certified."
"You would." Cramer's eyes were slits and his lips
tightened. "Where did you get this bullet?"
"I'll tell you, or I won't, when I get your report."
"By God." Cramer was hoarser. "This is pertinent.
This is evidence. I'll take you down, both of you—"
"Nonsense. Evidence of what? I don't know and nei-
ther do you. If it wasn't fired by the gun that killed Mr.
Hazen it is evidence of nothing, and I am not obliged to
account for it until I know. I'm not indulging in a prank,
Mr. Cramer. There is a possibility that the bullets will
match, and if so it will indeed be evidence. Let me
know."
Cramer opened his mouth to say something, vetoed
it, got to his feet, put the bullet in his pocket, threw the
cigar at my wastebasket and missed, picked up his coat
and put it on, ignoring my offer to help, and marched
out. I went to the hall to see that when the door shut he
was on the outside. When I returned to the office Wolfe
growled. "Confound these interruptions. We have forty
minutes. Where were we on that letter to Mr. Hewitt?"
I sat, got my notebook, and told him.
At four o'clock, when he left to go up to the plant
rooms for his two-hour afternoon session with the or-
chids, I got busy at the typewriter. On various occa-
sions I have had a little trouble turning out perfect
letters to orchid collectors and providers of food spe-
cialties when my mind had other interests and con-
cerns, and that day was one of the worst. Cramer had
left at 3:20. He would lose no time getting the bullet to
the laboratory; they probably had it by 3:50, or four
o'clock at the latest. Examining two bullets with a
comparison microscope is a simple chore; ten minutes is
ample to decide if they were fired by the same gun. 4:10.
Allow a quarter of an hour for writing the report, which
90 Rex Stout
wouldn't have to be in shape for a judge and jury. 4:25.
Cramer would have a man there waiting for it. He
should phone by 4:30, or ring the doorbell by 4:45. He
didn't.
By 5:151 had to keep my jaw set to hit the right keys.
If you think I was keyed up more than the circum-
stances warranted, look it over. If the bullets matched I
was a sap. It was a million to one that the murderer
hadn't sneaked into the house to put the gun back in the
drawer in Hazen's room; why would he? Murderers
often do crazy things, but not that crazy. Therefore
Mrs. Hazen had lied, and she had either killed him or
knew who did, and I was a beetlehead. I had to do three
of the letters twice.
By six o'clock, when Wolfe came down from the plant
rooms, I had begun to relax. He went to his desk and
started on the letters I had put there, which he always
reads with care. After he had finished a couple and
signed them I remarked, "Of course Cramer wouldn't
bother to phone if the bullets didn't match."
He grunted.
"And the laboratory got it more than two hours ago,
so we might as well—"
The doorbell rang, and the bottom of my spine curled.
Cramer had waited until six o'clock, when he knew
Wolfe would be available. I went to the hall and
switched the stoop light on, and my spine went back to
normal. It was a stranger, a man about my age, maybe
a little younger, with no hat and a mop of brown hair
shuffled by the wind. I had never been so delighted to
see a stranger, but had it under control by the time I got
to the door and opened it and said, "Yes, sir?"
"I want to see Nero Wolfe. My name's Weed, Theodore
Weed."
I should have had him wait there while I went and
told Wolfe, that was the routine, but I was so glad to see
him that I invited him in and helped him off with his
coat. Then I went to the office and announced, "The-
odore Weed to see you. One of the dinner guests. The
one who—"
The Homicide Trinity 91
"What does he want?"
He knew damn well I hadn't had time to ask what he
wanted. I said, "You."
"No. I've been pestered enough on a matter in which
I have no interest. Tell him so and don't—"
Weed was there. He crossed to the red leather chair,
plumped into it as if he owned it, and said, "I'm not
going to pester you. I'm going to hire you."
Wolfe glared at me. I had let a man in without con-
sulting him; he would have something to say about that
when we were alone. Weed was going on. "I know you
come high, but I pay my bills. Do you want a retainer?"
Wolfe had transferred the glare to him. "No. You not
only intrude, you presume. Archie, show him the door."
"Now wait a minute. I'm not very . . ." He let it
hang and started to work his jaw. He had plenty of jaw,
a little bony but not out of proportion. He got it under
control. "All right, I started wrong. I'll try again. Mrs.
Barry Hazen came to see you this morning and left a
gun with you. Where is it?"
"Intrusion and presumption," Wolfe said, "and now
effrontery. I must insist—"
"Damn it, I know she did! She told me so! She was
here when she heard about it, that they had found his
body! And she wanted to hire you, she wanted to give
you a check, and you wouldn't take it!" He paused to
control his jaw. "So I want to hire you, and I'll pay your
bill. I just left the District Attorney's office and she's
still there. They wouldn't let me see her, but she's there
and they're going to charge her with murder. I can't see
why it's presumption for me to want to hire you—
you're in the detective business and my money is as
good as anybody's. All right, I got ahead of myself
asking you about the gun, but when I'm your client
there's no reason why you shouldn't tell me where it is."
He stuck a hand in his pocket and brought out a wad of
bills, not a thick one, and unfolded it.
I was trying to decide. Either he thought that Lucy
Hazen had killed her husband, and was being ehival-
92 Rex Stout
rous, or he didn't think she had but was selling Wolfe
the idea that he did think so. Whichever it was, he was
willing to spend money on it, for he got up from his chair
to put the bills on Wolfe's desk.
As Wolfe started to speak the phone rang, and I
turned and got it. It was Lucy Hazen. She asked for
Wolfe, and I told her to hold it and turned to him. "The
woman that brought the sausage this morning wants to
know if it will do. If you want to ask Fritz you can talk
on the kitchen extension."
He got up and went, and I held on. In a moment
his voice was in my ear. "This is Nero Wolfe. Mrs.
Hazen?"
"Yes. You said this morning that if I need your ser-
vices you would see." Her voice was shaky. "I do need
them. I'm going to be arrested, and I—"
"Where are you?"
"At the District Attorney's. I don't know any—"
"Say only what you must say on the telephone."
"I'm in a booth with the door closed."
"Pfui. It is probably not only heard but also recorded.
Say only what you must."
"All right." A little pause. "He said I could phone a
lawyer, and I don't know any except my husband's, and
I don't want him. Will you get one for me?"
"I'll send one to you. After speaking with him you can
decide whether to engage him."
"I will. Of course. But I want to engage you too. You
said you would if I needed you."
"I said I would see." A pause, longer than hers. If he
committed himself he would have to work, and he
would rather eat than work. "Very well." He growled
it. "I am engaged. One question: have you disclosed any
of your conversation with me? Yes or no."
"No."
"Satisfactory. One instruction: if you have an inten-
tion to reject property left you by your husband you
will neither declare it nor indicate it. You're going to
have some bills to pay."
"But I don't want anything from him! I told you—"
The Homicide Trinity 93
"We're on the phone. The lawyer will join me in that
instruction. His name is Nathaniel Parker. Archie, get
Mr. Parker. I'll talk from here."
Chapter 4
I pushed the button down, released it, dialed Park-
er's home number, got him, buzzed the kitchen, and
Wolfe got on. He gave Parker the necessary facts,
and not much more—nothing of what Mrs. Hazen had
told us that morning, nothing about the gun. He did say
that I had formed the conclusion that she had not shot
her husband, and that he had accepted it. Parker was to
arrange for bail if she was bailable, if they held her on
the big charge he was to get what he could at the DA's
office. I waited to hang up until Wolfe was at the office
door. He went to his desk, sat, leveled his eyes at
Theodore Weed, and spoke.
"Now sir. That was timely. It was Mrs. Hazen on the
phone. I have sent—"
"Where is she?"
"At the District Attorney's office. She thinks she is
going to be held. I have sent a lawyer to her, and I have
agreed to act in her behalf. You were assuming that I
declined her offer of a check because I thought she was
guilty of murder or at least was implicated, but you
were wrong. She is now my client." He wiggled a finger
at the bills on the desk. "Your money. Take it."
Weed's jaw was hanging, his lips parted. He found
words. "But you—I don't see why you—"
explain. Why do you think Mrs. Hazen killed her hus-
band? Was it merely surmise?"
"I don't—I don't think she killed him. She didn't!"
"If I had taken your money what were you going to
ask me to do?"
94 Rex Stout
"I don't know exactly. I was going ... to consult
you. I wanted to know what you did with the gun. Have
the police got it?"
Wolfe shook his head. "I am acting for her now, Mr.
Weed. You are the enemy—one of them. What if you
killed Mr. Hazen, or know who did, and would like to see
it imputed to her, and suspecting, for whatever reason,
that she left a gun with me this morning, you want to
find out? What if you are indeed the enemy?"
Weed sat and stared at him. His jaw started to work
again and he stopped it. "Look here," he said. "I want to
know something. I know your reputation, I know about
you. Is that straight, Mrs. Hazen phoned you just now
and you're working for her?"
"It is."
"All right, then this is straight too." He stuck an arm
out. "You can cut off this arm if it will help her any. And
the other one. If that's corny, okay, that's where I
stand."
Wolfe regarded him with narrowed eyes. So did I. He
looked as if he meant it, but even if he did, that didn't
make him our pal. If he would give an arm to help her,
and if he had known how she felt about her husband, he
might have taken steps to get rid of him for her, which
Homicide Trinity Page 12
