suggestive facts. First, Mr. Hazen was a blackmailer.
He extorted large sums, not only from these four peo-
ple, but also from others, using his public-relations
business as a cover. He had in his possession—"
"You can't prove that," Mrs. Oliver blurted.
"But I can," he told her. "Item, you have in your bag
a check for two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. For
what? Account for it. I advise you, madam, to hold your
tongue. I would prefer to tell Mr. Cramer only what I
must to support my suggestion, and I'll go beyond that
only if you force me to. You shouldn't have challenged
me. Now that you have, were the amounts that you paid
Mr. Hazen, ostensibly for professional services, actu-
ally paid under coercion?"
She looked down at the bag in her lap, looked up
again, and said, "Yes."
"Then don't interrupt me." Wolfe returned to
Cramer. "Mr. Hazen had in his possession various ob-
jects, I don't know what, to substantiate his demands.
Last evening I told these four people that I had secured
these objects and that I would surrender them for one
million dollars, giving them twenty-four hours to meet
my terms. They are here. Three of them—"
The Homicide Trinity 133
"The objects are here?" Cramer demanded.
"No. I don't know where they are. I have never seen
them. The people are here. This will go better if you
keep your questions until I'm through. Three of them—
Mrs. Oliver, Mrs. Talbot, and Mr. Perdis—came pre-
pared to pay, and that was what I was after. I was
acting on the premise, certainly worth a test, that one of
Hazen's victims had killed him, and to kill him might
have been futile unless he got the object or objects that
had made it possible for Hazen to bleed him. For a
moment I abandon fact for surmise. Mr. Khoury did get
the object or objects. By some ruse, probably with the
promise of a large sum of money as a lure, he induced
Hazen to get his car from the garage Monday night and
drive somewhere, and to have with him the object or
objects. That surmise is not haphazard. The others
came here this evening prepared to pay, but not Mr.
Khoury. He knew I had nothing to support my threat.
Even when I told him that the objects pertaining to him
would be given to the police in ninety minutes he was
unmoved."
"Get back to facts," Cramer growled. His head
turned. "Mr. Khoury, do you want to comment?"
"No." From Khoury's smile you might have thought
he was enjoying it. "This is fascinating. I thought I had
decided not to bring my share of the million because I
didn't believe he had anything that threatened any-
body."
Wolfe, ignoring him, stayed at Cramer. "For a fact I
submit the conversation at the gathering Monday
evening after Mrs. Hazen and Mr. Weed had left. Of
course you and your staff have it in detail, but you
didn't know that Hazen was a blackmailer and that he
not only bled his prey, he was pleased to torment them.
In that conversation he introduced topics that obvi-
ously referred to the pinch he had them in—for in-
stance, poison. I don't know which of those present that
touched, and am not concerned. But one of his topics
pointed clearly at Mr. Khoury. He remarked that his
wife's father had been a great inventor, a genius; and
134 Rex Stout
his wife's father, Titus Postel, had been associated with
Mr. Khoury. So it seemed likely that his hold on Mr.
Khoury was in some way connected with Titus Postel,
but at the time I learned that, yesterday evening, I had
no reason to single out Mr. Khoury for special attention,
so I merely noted it for possible future application."
Wolfe took a breath. "But two incidents today did
single out Mr. Khoury. Shortly after one o'clock you
phoned me to say that the gun I had given you had been
the property of Titus Postel and that he had committed
suicide with it five years ago; and soon after that, on the
telephone with Mr. Khoury, he informed me that he
would be present this evening but that he was declining
my proposal. He didn't put it in those terms, but that
was the gist."
Khoury made a noise, a subdued snort. Cramer said,
"Yes, Mr. Khoury?"
"Nothing," Khoury said.
Wolfe resumed. "Now the guns. Call them Gun H,
Mr. Hazen's, the one he was shot with, left in his car;
and Gun P, Mr. Postel's, which I gave you this morning.
My account of them is not established fact, but it is
more than mere surmise because it is based on a high
degree of probability. When Mr. Khoury went to that
grotesque dinner party Monday evening he had Gun P
with him. During the—"
"You can prove he had it?"
"Certainly not. I'm telling you what happened, not
what I can prove. During the evening he found or made
an opportunity to go to Mr. Hazen's bedroom, took Gun
H from the drawer, and put Gun P in its place. With a
double purpose: first, and minor, so that Hazen would
find a gun there—they were the same make—if he
looked for it. Second, and major, to implicate Mrs. Ha-
zen. He intended to leave Gun H in the car after he
killed Hazen. The police would of course learn that it
had been Hazen's, kept in that drawer in his room, and
when they found Gun P there in its place, the gun that
had belonged to Mrs. Hazen's father, they would natu-
rally assume that she had put it there in a witless effort
The Homicide Trinity 135
to mislead them. By the way." His head turned. "Mrs.
Hazen. The gun that had belonged to your father—was
it in your possession?"
Lucy's lips formed a "No," but there was almost no
sound where I sat, five steps away.
"When did you see it last?"
She shook her head. "I don't understand." I could
hear her now. "When they told me the gun I brought
you was the one my father shot himself with I thought
they were lying. I don't understand."
"No wonder. Neither do the police. Did you ever have
that gun—your father's?"
"I had it for a while. They gave it to me after . . .
after he died. I kept it with some of his things. But it
disappeared."
"How long after his death did it disappear?"
"I don't know. It was about two years after that I
noticed it was gone."
"Had you any idea who took it?"
"I didn't know, but I thought perhaps Mrs. Khoury
had. I didn't ask her. She thought I shouldn't keep it
because it only reminded me . . ." She let it hang. "Is it
true that my husband was a blackmailer?"
"Yes. And your former employer is not only a mur-
derer, he tried to make you his scapegoat. You have
been unfortunate in your choice of male associates, but
I can relieve your mind about one you didn't choose,
&nbs
p; your father. He didn't commit suicide; he was mur-
dered. By Mr. Khoury."
"No," Khoury said. "Another one? You're piling it
on."
Wolfe leveled his eyes at him. "Your aplomb is admi-
rable, sir," he said, no sarcasm. "Of course you're count-
ing on what I said at the beginning, that I have no
evidence. You're too sanguine. The evidence almost
certainly exists, but to get it will require authority and
a large trained staff, and I have neither. I am obliged to
Mr. Hazen for a valuable hint, his remark that Mrs.
Hazen's father was a great inventor and a genius. That
suggested that you might have cheated him out of the
136 Rex Stout
proceeds of his genius, and immediately after talking
with you on the phone today I put a man on it."
Wolfe fumed to Cramer. "The man was Saul Panzer.
You know his capacities. He phoned me about an hour
ago, just before I called you, and what he reported was
the basis for my statement to Mrs. Hazen, that Khoury
killed her father. I don't tell you what he reported
because you will get it from him, and also because I
don't want Mr. Khoury to know what has been uncov-
ered, and neither do you. As I said, I am only offering a
suggestion, but I trust it is cogent enough to persuade
you to restrict Mr. Khoury's movements, and to put
some men to work. He may have taken Hazen's keys on
the chance that they might be useful, and he may still
have them, though not on his person. Find them. Ran-
sack his premises. He may even still have the object or
objects he certainly took; find them. If you see his wife
before he is allowed to communicate with her you may
leam something about Gun P." He flipped a hand. "But
this is superfluous; you know your job. If I have—"
Khoury had moved. No rush, he wasn't a bit dis-
turbed, but he was on his feet. "Really," he said,
"there's a limit." His straight line to the door was in
front of Mrs. Oliver and Perdis and Lucy, but it would
have been bad manners to cross their bows, so he
started around. On past Mrs. Oliver, and Perdis, and
Lucy, with Stebbins at her shoulder, before Cramer
spoke. "Stop him, Purley." Khoury whirled, saying
through his teeth, "Don't touch me."
"Nuts," Purley said, and began going over him for a
gun. Gun X, maybe. Anyway, Khoury couldn't have
made it to the hall because Theodore Weed was there
filling the door.
Chapter 10
I'll have to leave it with two loose ends.
First, the object or objects pertaining to Anne
Talbot, Mrs. Oliver, Perdis, and presumably other
assorted Hazen clients. They have never turned up. At
least, the cops never found them. If one of the clients
did, he didn't announce it. So if the hints Hazen scat-
tered around at the dinner party aroused your curios-
ity, I can't satisfy it.
Second, the fee that Wolfe had certainly earned.
Lucy refused to take any of Hazen's leavings; she
wouldn't even take the house. That was noble, and even
decent, considering how he had got it, but private de-
tectives have to eat. Unquestionably Nero Wolfe has to
eat. There's a chance that she'll get a chunk of Khoury's
pile eventually, on account of the evidence Cramer dug
up that Khoury had stolen a couple of Titus Postel's
inventions, but Khoury, who is now in the death house
while his lawyers hop around from court to court, has
admitted nothing, and neither has his wife. So if you're
curious as to how much Wolfe collected for his thirty-
six hours' work I can't satisfy you on that either.
As for a third point you might be curious about,
whether Lucy and Theodore Weed have found out how
they feel about each other, you may have one guess. If
you need more than one, what do you suppose makes
the world go around?
COUNTERFEIT
FOR MURDER
Chapter 1
My rule is, never be rude to anyone unless you
mean it. But when I looked through the one-
way glass panel of the front door and saw her
out on the stoop, my basic feelings about the opposite
sex were hurt. Granting that women can't stay young
and beautiful forever, that the years are bound to show,
at least they don't have to let their gray hair straggle
over their ears or wear a coat with a button missing or
forget to wash their face, and this specimen was guilty
on all three counts. So, as she put a finger to the button
and the bell rang, I opened the door and told her, "I
don't want any, thanks. Try next door." I admit it was
rude.
"I would have once, Buster," she said. "Thirty years
ago I was a real treat."
That didn't help matters any. I have conceded that
the years are bound to show.
"I want to see Nero Wolfe," she said. "Do I walk right
through you?"
"There are difficulties," I told her. "One, I'm bigger
than you are. Two, Mr. Wolfe can be seen only by
142
The Homicide Trinity 143
Rex Stout
i
appointment. Three, he won't be available until eleven
o'clock, more than an hour from now."
"All right, I'll come in and wait. I'm half froze. Are
you nailed down?"
A notion struck me. Wolfe believes, or claims he does,
that any time I talk him into seeing a female would-be
client he knows exactly what to expect if and when he
sees her, and this would show him how wrong he was.
"Your name, please?" I asked her.
"My name's Annis. Hattie Annis."
"What do you want to see Mr. Wolfe about?"
"I'll tell him when I see him. If my tongue's not
froze."
"You'll have to tell me, Mrs. Annis. My name—"
"Miss Annis."
"Okay. My name is Archie Goodwin."
"I know it is. If you're thinking I don't look like I can
pay Nero Wolfe, there'll be a reward and I'll split it with
him. If I took it to the cops they'd do the splitting. I
wouldn't trust a cop if he was naked as a baby."
"What will the reward be for?"
"For what I've got here." She patted her black
leather handbag, the worse for wear, with a hand in a
woolen glove.
"What is it?"
"I'll tell Nero Wolfe. Look, Buster, I'm no Eskimo.
Let the lady in."
That wasn't feasible. I had been in the hall with my
hat and overcoat and gloves on, on my way for a mom-
ing walk crosstown to the bank to deposit a check for
$7417.65 in Wolfe's account, when I had seen her
through the one-way glass panel aiming her finger at
the bell button. Letting her in and leaving her in the
office while I took my walk was out of the question. The
other inhabitants of that old brownstone on West 35th
Street, the property of Nero Wolfe except for the fur-
niture and other items in my bedroom, were around but
they were busy. Fri
tz Brenner, the chef and house-
keeper, was in the kitchen making chestnut soup. Wolfe
was up in the plant rooms on the roof for his two-hour
morning session with the orchids, and of course
Theodore Horstmann was with him.
I wasn't rude about it. I told her there were several
places nearby where she could spend the hour and thaw
out—Sam's Diner at the comer of Tenth Avenue, or the
drug store at the comer of Ninth, or Tony's tailor shop
where she could have a button sewed on her coat and
charge it to me. She didn't push. I said if she came back
at a quarter past eleven I might have persuaded Wolfe
to see her, and she turned to go, and then turned back,
opened the black leather handbag, and took out a pack-
age wrapped in brown paper with a string around it.
"Keep this for me, Buster," she said. "Some nosy cop
might take it on himself. Come on, it won't bite. And
don't open it. Can I trust you not to open it?"
I took it because I liked her. She had fine instincts
and no sense at all. She had refused to tell me what was
in it, and was leaving it with me and telling me not to
open it—my idea of a true woman if only she would
comb her hair and wash her face and sew a button on. So
I took it, and told her I would expect her at a quarter
past eleven, and she went. When I had seen her descend
the seven steps to the sidewalk and turn left, toward
Tenth Avenue, I shut the door from the inside and took
a look at the package. It was rectangular, some six
inches long and three wide, and a couple of inches thick.
Homicide Trinity Page 18
