"You don't look it," Hattie said. "You would do fine
for Falstaff."
The Homicide Trinity 151
"Finish it," I told her. "And the car went on?"
"It must have. When I got up it was gone. A man and
a woman helped me up, and another man stopped, but
nothing was broke and I could walk. So I walked. I
didn't want to try climbing on a bus. I kept in close to
the buildings, and I stopped to rest about every block,
and the last two blocks I didn't think I would make it,
but I did. How did you know I was there if I fainted?"
"You rang the bell. I caught you before you hit bot-
tom."
"And you carried me in and I missed it. Carried by a
man and didn't know it. What's life up to?"
Wolfe came in a step. "Madam. I told Mr. Goodwin I
would give you two minutes."
She had lifted her head and I had put a cushion under
it. "I appreciate it," she said. "A wonderful day. Buster
carries me in and Falstaff gives me two minutes—and
here's another one with coffee!"
Fritz coming with the coffee eased the situation. To
Wolfe anyone having food or drink in his house is a
guest, and guests have to be humored, within reason.
He couldn't tell me to bounce her while I was bringing a
stand for the tray and Fritz was filling her cup. So he
stood and scowled. When she had taken a sip he spoke.
"Mr. Goodwin said you have something that you
think is good for a reward. What is it?"
She had sat up and taken off the woolen gloves. She
took another sip. "That's good coffee," she said. "First
I'll tell you how I got it. I own that house on Forty-
seventh Street. I was born in it." Another sip. "Do you
happen to know that all stage people are crazy?"
Wolfe grunted. "They have no monopoly."
"Maybe not, but theirs is a special kind. I'm not
saying I like them, but they give me a feeling. My father
owned a theater. My house is only an eight-minute walk
from Times Square, and I only need one room and a
kitchen, so they can live there whether they can pay or
not. Five of them are living there now—three men and
two girls—and they use the kitchen. They're supposed
to make their beds and keep their rooms decent, and
152 Rex Stout
some of them do. I never go in their rooms. My room is
the second floor front—"
"If you please." Wolfe was curt. "To the point."
"I'll get there, Falstaff. Let the lady talk." She took a
sip. "Good coffee. The ground floor front is the parlor.
Nobody goes in there much since my mother died years
ago, but once a week I go in and look around, and when
I went in yesterday afternoon a mouse ran out from
under the piano and went in back of the bookshelves.
Do you believe a mouse could run up a woman's leg?"
"No." Wolfe was emphatic.
"Neither do I. I got my umbrella from the hall and
poked behind the shelves, but he didn't come out.
There's no back to the shelves, so if I took the books out
I'd have him. The bottom shelf has a History of the
Thirteen Colonies in ten volumes and a set ofMacaulay
with the backs coming off. I took them all out, but the
mouse wasn't there. He must have moved while I was
getting the umbrella. But in back of the books was a
little package I had never seen before, and I opened it,
and that's what I've got. If I took it to the cops, good-by.
We can split the reward three ways, you and me and
Buster here."
"What's in it?"
Her head turned. "Open it, Buster."
I took it from my pocket, sat on a chair, untied the
string, and unwrapped the paper. It was a stack of new
twenty-dollar bills. I flipped through it at a comer and
then at another comer. All twenties.
"Imagine handing that to the cops," Hattie said. "Of
course he knew I had it and he tried to kill me."
Wolfe grunted. "How much, Archie?"
"About two inches thick. Two hundred and fifty to
the inch. Ten thousand dollars, more or less."
"Madam. You say he tried to kill you. Who?"
"I don't know which one." She put her cup down and
picked up the pot to pour. "It could be one of the girls,
but I'd rather not. If he hadn't tried to kill me I would
just as soon—"
The Homicide Trinity 153
The doorbell rang. After putting the lettuce and pa-
per and string on the chair, I went to the hall and took a
look. It was a medium-sized round-shouldered stranger
in a dark gray overcoat and a snap brim nearly down to
his ears. Before opening the door I shut the one to the
front room.
"Yes, sir?"
He took a leather fold from a pocket, flipped it open,
and offered it. I took it, Treasury Department of the
United States. Secret Service Division. Albert Leach.
In the picture he had no hat on, but it was probably him.
I handed it back.
"My name is Albert Leach," he said.
"Check," I said.
"I'd like to speak with Mr. Wolfe and Mr. Goodwin."
"Mr. Wolfe isn't available. I'm Goodwin."
"May I come in?"
It was a little ticklish. Of course I had smelled a rat
the second I saw his credentials. The walls and doors on
that floor were all soundproofed, but with Wolfe and
Hattie in there together there was no telling, and I
didn't want him inside. But it had started to snow and
the stoop had no roof, and I certainly wanted to know
what was on his mind.
I have him room and he stepped in. "I'm sorry," I
said, "but Mr. Wolfe is busy and I'm helping him with
something, so if you'll tell me—"
"Certainly." He had removed his hat. His hair was
going, but it would be a couple of years before he could
be called bald. "I want to ask about a woman named
Baxter. Tamiris Baxter or Tammy Baxter. Is she
here?"
"No. Around twenty-five? Five feet four, light brown
hair, hazel eyes, hundred and twenty pounds, fur coat
and fuzzy turban?"
He nodded. "That fits her."
"She was here this morning. She came at twenty
minutes past ten, uninvited and unexpected, and left at
ten-thirty."
"Has she been back?"
154 Rex Stout
"No."
"Has she phoned?"
"No."
"Another woman named Annis, Hattie Annis. Has
she been here?"
I cocked my head. "You know, Mr. Leach, I don't
mind being polite, but what the hell. Mr. Wolfe is a
licensed private detective and so am I, and we don't
answer miscellaneous questions just to pass the time.
I've heard of Hattie Annis because Miss Baxter asked if
she had been here, and I told her no. She asked me to
phone her if she came, but I probably won't. What if this
Hattie Annis comes and hires Mr. Wolfe to do a job?
She might not want anyone to know she had been here.
So skip it."
"I'm an officer
of the law, Goodwin. I'm an agent of
the United States government."
"So you are. And?"
"I want to know if Hattie Annis has been here today."
"Ask her. Miss Baxter gave me the phone number.
Do you want it?"
"I have it." He put his hat on. "I know your reputa-
tion, Goodwin, and Wolfe's. You may get away with
fancy tricks with the New York Police Department, but
I advise you not to try any with the Secret Service." He
turned and went, leaving the door open.
I shut the door and then went to the office. I got the
best glass from a drawer of Wolfe's desk and a new
twenty-dollar bill from the safe, and proceeded to the
front room. Wolfe was still standing, scowling down at
her, and she was talking. She broke off as I entered and
turned to me. "You're just in time, Buster. He's trying
to tell me there may be no reward, and I never heard
of—what are you doing?"
I had picked up the stack of bills and was going to a
window. Putting the one on top side by side with the
one I had taken from the safe, one minute with the glass
settled it. I took the one from the bottom of the stack,
and one from the middle, and used the glass on them.
The Homicide Trinity 155
The same. I stuck the good one in my pocket and
crossed to them.
"There'll probably be an award," I told her. "Official.
They're phonies. Counterfeit."
Chapter 2
I told a friend of mine about this incident one day a
few weeks later, and when I got this far I asked her
to guess what Hattie's reaction had been. "That's
easy," my friend said. "She accused you of taking good
bills from the package and substituting bad ones. You
should have known she would." My friend couldn't have
been more wrong, but I admit it was my fault. I hadn't
drawn Hattie true to life. What Hattie actually said was,
"Of course they're counterfeit. Why would he hide real
money in my parlor? And why would I bring it to Nero
Wolfe?"
"You knew they were phonies?" I demanded.
"I knew they must be."
"You didn't mention it."
"Why should I? To you two great detectives? You
knew it too or you wouldn't have examined them with a
magnifying glass."
I shook my head. "I didn't know it, I only suspected it.
I suspected it when I answered the bell just now and
found a T-man at the door. A T-man is a Secret Service
agent of the Treasury Department. He wanted to know
if a woman named Tamiris Baxter was here. I told him
no, that she was here this morning for ten minutes and
left her—"
"Tammy Baxter? Tammy was here?"
"Right. She wanted to know if you had been here and
I told her no. She left her phone number and asked me
to ring her if you came. Then the T-man asked if Hattie
156 Rex Stout
Annis had been here, and I told him I was against
answering miscellaneous questions, which is true, but
the thing was I had got curious about this stack of bills
and wanted to take a look. So he left and I came and
looked. Now you say you knew they were counterfeit."
"Archie." Wolfe was gruff. "You saw that man's cre-
dentials?"
"Of course."
"He asked for Miss Annis?"
"He asked if she had been here."
"Why didn't you bring him in?"
"Because he wanted to look at the bills. If they were
okay I saw no reason to let the T-man disturb a guest of
yours who appreciates Fritz's coffee."
The trouble was, she had finished with the coffee.
"Very well," he said, "you have looked at them. Does
the Secret Service have a New York office?"
"Yes." A list of the things any two-bit dick knows and
he doesn't would fill a book.
"Call them and report. If Miss Annis leaves before they
arrive keep the bills, and of course they will want the
wrapping paper. Give her a receipt if she wants one." He
turned and made for the office, shutting the door.
It didn't stay shut long. I admit I could have stopped
her, by taking a step and stretching an arm, but I
thought he might at least have given her a chance to
thank him for the coffee. So I didn't take the step until
she had the door open, and then went only to the sill.
Wolfe was in his chair behind his desk before he knew
she was there.
"Did you mean that?" she demanded. "Call the cops
and hand it over?"
"Not the cops, madam." He was sharp. "The Secret
Service. I have a responsibility as a citizen. Counterfeit
money is contraband. I can't let you walk out of my
house with it."
She put a hand on the desk edge for a prop. "Boot-
licker," she said. "The great detective Nero Wolfe just
a flunky for the cops. If Falstaff was here I'd apologize
to him. Maybe he wasn't much of a hero, but he was no
toady. You can't glare me down, the lady's going to talk.
The Homicide Trinity 157
I found that stuff in my house, and I thought, I'd rather
just burn it than turn it over to the cops. I thought the
thing to do was find out who put it there and then go to
a newspaper. Finding a counterfeiter ought to call for a
reward. But I didn't know how to find out because my
mind doesn't work like that, so I thought I would get a
detective and split the reward with him, and I might as
well get the best, so I go to Nero Wolfe, and this is what
happens. Counterfeit money may be contraband, but
it's not your counterfeit money, it's mine, I found it in
my house, but what do you care, you want to suck up to
the cops, so you tell him to call them and report, and
keep the bills, and swaggle out. I spit at you. I don't spit,
but I spit at you." She about-faced. "You too. Buster? Is
this what you carried me in for?"
"Madam," Wolfe said.
She whirled back. "Don't madam me!"
"You have a point," Wolfe said. "I reject your charge
of servility, but you have a point, and an interesting
one. I am not an officer of the law. Has a private citizen
the right to confiscate contraband? I doubt it. Even
if he has the right, is it a duty? Surely not. That coun-
terfeit money is yours until it is seized by public author-
ity. I confess to error, but I was prompted by
expedience, not sycophancy. I merely wanted to get
clear of a muddle. Now, confound it, you have raised a
point I can't ignore, but neither can I ignore my obliga-
tion as a citizen. I offer a suggestion: Mr. Goodwin will
put the bills in my safe and go with you to your house
and investigate. You say you wanted to engage me to
identify and expose the counterfeiter; he will decide if
that is feasible without prolonged and expensive in-
quiry. If it isn't I'll return your property to you, but I
shall notify the Secret Service that I am doing so. In
either case, I shall expect no fee. You are not my c
lient.
I am merely wriggling out of a muddle. Well?"
"We split the reward three ways," she said.
"I have no interest in a reward." He flipped a hand,
discarding it. "There probably won't be any."
"There had better be. I don't need it, I've got enough
158 Rex Stout
to go on and then some, but I've never earned any
money and this is my chance. Keeping it in your safe,
that's all right. I'm not going to apologize for what I said
until I see what happens."
"I wouldn't expect you to. Archie?"
I moved. The bills were still in my hand, but the
wrapping paper and string were on the chair. I went
and brought them, holding the paper by the comer. "A
question," I said. "Since he hid it where it might possi-
bly be found he might have had sense enough not to
leave prints, but he might not. If not, I've got him right
here. I can find out in ten minutes, but it would be
tampering with evidence, and the question is, do I?"
"Of course," Hattie said. "I thought of that but I
didn't know how."
"You can't test it without leaving traces," Wolfe said.
"No."
"Then don't. That can wait."
Of course my prints were already there, on both the
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