The Mother Hunt

by Rex Stout

  Cramer glared at Upton. "Did she?"

  "Yes," Upton said.

  "Why the hell didn't you say so yesterday?"

  "I wasn't asked. And I didn't know what I know now. I repeat my formal demand, that you arrest Nero Wolfe and Archie Goodwin on my complaint. But I'll answer your question. Carol Mardus told me that Julian Haft had met her at the airport, or right after she left it, and took the baby." He turned to Haft, beside him. "Julian, you can't expect me—" He didn't finish it. Haft was trying to take the cheaters off, and his hands were trembling so he couldn't manage it.

  Cramer asked Mrs. Valdon, "Where's a phone?"

  She pointed. "There."

  He started for it but stopped and wheeled. "Stay where you are," he commanded. "All of you. I'm sending for cars and I'm taking you to the District Attorney's office." He focused on Wolfe. "Including you. You never leave your house, huh? Now that you've left it you'll go back when I say so." He headed for the cabinet.

  Wolfe turned to the client. "Mrs. Valdon. You have indulged me and I am beholden to you. I suggest that you leave the room. Go upstairs and bolt the door. In Mr. Cramer's present temper he'll insist that you go along and there's no reason why you should. Please go."

  Lucy got up and walked out. Forty-eight days had passed since she had walked out on me from that same room.

  Chapter 20

  AT MY BREAKFAST TABLE in the kitchen one morning last week, the kind of a snowy blowy January morning when it's nice to be inside a window looking out, I chewed slowly on my third bite of scrapple, swallowed it, and turned to Fritz.

  "Creating again?" I asked.

  He beamed at me. "You're learning to taste, Archie. To distinguer. In ten years more you'll have a palate. Can you tell me what I did?"

  "Certainly not. But you did something. What?"

  "I reduced the sage a little and added a touch of oregano. What do you think?"

  "I think you're a genius. Two geniuses in one house, and one of them is easy to live with. You may quote me to the other one." I took a bite of scrapple, no bacon. Ordinarily I take bacon after the first two or three bites of scrapple, but I wanted to develop my palate. "Speaking of him, I suppose you've read the morning paper?"

  "Yes. That murderer, that Haft, his appeal was denied."

  "He'll try again. With money to pay lawyers you can do a lot of dodging. That's one of the disadvantages of being poor, you don't dare kill anybody."

  He was at the range, flipping the next slice of scrapple. "I'm sorry I kept you waiting, Archie, but the griddle was cold. I didn't expect you down until later. You said you were going to the Flamingo."

  I swallowed scrapple and bacon. "Circling around again," I said. "You could just ask, why did I not go to the Flamingo, and if I did go why did I come home early."

  "Bien. I ask."

  "Good. I answer. First, I went. Second, I came home early because we left early. Third, why did we leave early. The baby had a temperature and my companion was worried about it. A worrying woman should not be dancing. Does that cover it?"

  "Yes." He came and got my plate, and in a moment returned it with a slice of hot scrapple. "He is worried too, Archie. He thinks there is danger that you may marry that woman."

  "I know he does. That suits me fine. In a month or so I can hit him for a raise." I took a bite of homemade scrapple with a touch of oregano.