Red Box, The nwo-4

by Rex Stout

  Mr. Boyden McNair acted funny. When I stuck the box at him and asked him to take a piece he drew back a little, but lots of others did that. Then he pulled himself up and reached and looked in, and his fingers went straight to a Jordan almond and then jerked away, and he took a chocolate. I asked him quick to take another without giving him a chance to get it decided, and this time he touched two other pieces first and then took a Jordan almond, a white one. The third try he went straight to a gum drop and took it.”

  Fritz had come with beer for Wolfe and a scowl for me, and Wolfe had opened a bottle and was pouring. He murmured, “It was you who saw it, Archie. Your conclusion?”

  I tossed the slips onto my desk. “My conclusion is that McNair was Jordan almond-conscious. You know, the way a workingman like me is class-conscious or a guzzler like you is beer-conscious. I'll admit it's vague, but you sent me up there to see if any of that bunch would betray an idea that Jordan almonds are different from any other candy, and either Boyden McNair did just that or I've got the soul of a male stenographer. And I don't even use all my fingers.”

  “Mr. McNair. Indeed.” Wolfe had emptied one and was leaning back. “Miss Helen

  Frost, according to her cousin, our client, calls him Uncle Boyd. Did you know that I am an uncle, Archie?”

  He knew perfectly well that I knew it, since I typed the monthly letters to

  Belgrade for him, but of course he wasn't expecting an answer. He had shut his eyes and became motionless. His brain may have been working, but so was mine; I had to figure out some plausible way of getting out of there to hop in the roadster and run up to 52nd Street and kidnap Helen Frost. I wasn't worrying about the McNair thing. It was the one nibble I had got uptown, and I really thought there was a good chance that we might hook a fish from it; besides, I had given it to Wolfe straight and now it was up to him. But the two o'clock appointment I had mentioned, God help me…

  I got an idea. I knew that with Wolfe's eyes shut for his genius to work, he was often beyond the reach of external stimuli. Several times I had even kicked over my wastebasket without getting a flicker from him. I sat and watched him a while, saw him breathing and that was all, and finally decided to risk it. I drew my feet in under me and lifted myself out of my chair without making it creak. I kept my eyes on Wolfe. Three short steps on the rubber tile took me to the first rug, and on that silence was a cinch. I tiptoed it, holding my breath, accelerating gradually as I approached the door. I made the threshold-a step in the hall-another-

  Thunder rolled from the office behind me: “Mr. Goodwin!”

  I had a notion to dash on out, snaring my hat on the fly, but an instant's reflection showed that would have been disastrous. He would have relapsed again during my absence, out of pure damn meanness. I turned and went back in.

  He roared, “Where were you going?”

  I tried to grin at him. “Nowhere. Just upstairs a minute.”

  “And why the furtive stealth?”

  “I…why…egad, sir, I didn't want to disturb you.”

  “Indeed. You egad me, do you?” He straightened up in his chair. “Not disturb me?

  Ha! What else have you done but that during the past eight years? Who is it that violently disrupts any private plans which I may venture, on rare occasions, to undertake?” He wiggled a whole hand at me. “You were not going upstairs. You were going to sneak out of this house and rush through the city streets in a desperate endeavor to conceal the chicanery you practiced on me. You were going to try to get Helen Frost and bring her here. Did you think I was not aware of your mendacity, there in the kitchen? Have I not told you that your powers of dissimulation are wretched? Very well. I have three things to say to you. The first is a reminder: we are to have rice fritters with black currant jam, and endive with tarragon, for lunch. The second is a piece of information: you will not have time to lunch here. The third is an instruction: you are to proceed to the McNair establishment, get Miss Frost, and have her at this office by two o'clock. Doubtless you will find opportunity to get a greasy sandwich somewhere.

  By the time you arrive here with Miss Frost I shall have finished with the fritters and endive.”

  I said, “Okay. I heard every word. The Frost girl has a stubborn eye. Have I got a free hand? Strangle her? Wrap her up?”

  “But, Mr. Goodwin.” It was a tone he seldom used; I would call it a sarcastic whine. “She has an appointment here for two o'clock. Surely there should be no difficulty. If only common courtesy-”

  I beat it to the hall for my hat.

  Chapter Seven

  On the way uptown in the roadster I reflected that there was one obvious lever to use on Helen Frost to pry her in the direction I wanted her; and I'm a great one for the obvious, because it saves a lot of fiddling around. I decided to use it.

  The only parking space I could find was a block away, and I walked from there to the McNair entrance. The uniformed doorman stood grinning at a woman across the street who was trying to feed sugar to a mounted cop's horse. I went up to him:

  “Remember me? I was here this morning.”

  Being accosted by a gentleman, he started to straighten up to be genteel, then recollected that I was connected with the police, so he relaxed.

  “Sure I remember. You're the one that passed out the candy.”

  “Right. Attention, please. I want to speak to Miss Helen Frost privately, but I don't want to make any more fuss in there. Has she gone to lunch yet?”

  “No. She doesn't go until one o'clock.”

  “Is she inside?”

  “Sure.” He glanced at his watch. “She won't go for nearly half an hour.”

  “Okay.” I nodded thanks and moseyed off. I had a notion to hunt up some oats for a gobble, but decided it would be better to stick around. I lit a cigarette and strolled to the corner of Fifth Avenue, and across the street, and back toward

  Madison a ways. Apparently the public was still interested in the place where the beautiful model was poisoned, for I noticed people slowing up and looking at the McNair entrance as they passed by, and now and then some stopped. The mounted cop was hanging around. I went on sauntering in the neighborhood, not getting far away.

  At five minutes after one she came out, alone, and headed east. I tripped along, and crossed the street, and got behind her. A little before she got to Madison I snapped out:

  “Miss Frost!”

  She whirled on a dime. I took off my hat.

  “Remember me? My name's Archie Goodwin. I'd like to have a few words-”

  “This is outrageous!” She turned and started off.

  She was quite a sketch. As independent as a hog on ice. I took a hop, skip and jump, and planted the frame square in front of her. “Listen. You're more childish even than your cousin Lew. I merely need, in performance of my duty, to ask you a couple of questions. You're on your way to get something to eat. I'm hungry and have to eat myself sooner or later. I can't invite you to lunch, because I wouldn't be allowed to put it on my expense account, but I can sit at a table with you for four minutes and then go elsewhere to eat if that is your desire. I am a self-made man, and am a roughneck but not rowdy. I graduated from high school at the age of seventeen and only a few months ago I gave two dollars to the Red Cross.”

  On account of my firm aggressive talk people were looking at us, and she knew it. She said, “I eat at Moreland's, around the corner on Madison. You can ask your questions there.”

  One trick in. Moreland's was one of those dumps where they slice roast beef as thin as paper and specialize on vegetable plates. I let Helen Frost find a table, and trailed along and slid into a chair opposite her after she had sat down.

  She looked at me and said, “Well?”

  I said, “The waitress will hover. Order your lunch.”

  “I can order later. What do you want?”

  A sketch all right. But I stayed pleasant. “I want to take you to 918 West 35th

  Street for a conversation with Nero Wolfe.” />
  She stared at me. “That's ridiculous. What for?”

  I said mildly, “We have to be there at two o'clock, so we haven't much time.

  Really, Miss Frost, it would be much more human if you'd get something to eat and let me do the same, while I explain. I'm not something revolting, like a radio crooner or an agent for the Liberty League.”

  “I…I'm not hungry. I can see you're funny. A month ago I would have thought you were a scream.”

  I nodded. “I'm a knockout.” I beckoned to a waitress and consulted the card.

  “What will you have, Miss Frost?”

  She ordered some kind of goo, and hot tea, and I favored the pork and beans, with a glass of milk.

  With the waitress gone, I said, “There are lots of ways I could do this. I could scare you. Don't think I couldn't. Or I could try to persuade you that since your cousin is our client, and since Nero Wolfe is as square with a client as you would be with your twin if you had one, it's to your own interest to go and see him. But there's a better reason for your going than either of those.

  Ordinary decency. Whether Wolfe was right or wrong about what you said yesterday at McNair's doesn't matter. The point is that we've kept it to ourselves. You saw this morning what terms we're on with the police; they had me handling that test for them. But have they been ragging you on what you said yesterday? They have not. On the other hand, are you going to have to discuss it with someone-sooner or later? You're darned tooting you are, there's no way out of it. Who do you want to discuss it with? If you take my advice, Nero Wolfe, and the sooner the better. Don't forget that Miss Mitchell heard you say it too, and although she may be a good friend of yours-”

  “Please don't talk any more.” She was looking at her fork, which she was sliding back and forth on the tablecloth, and I saw how tight her fingers gripped it. I sat back and looked somewhere else.

  The waitress came and began depositing food in front of us. Helen Frost waited until she was through, and gone, and then said more to herself than to me, “I can't eat.”

  “You ought to.” I didn't pick up my tools. “You always ought to eat. Try it, anyhow. I've already eaten, I was only keeping you company.” I fished for a dime and a nickel and laid them on the table. “My car is parked on 52nd, halfway to

  Park Avenue, on the downtown side. I'll expect you there at a quarter to two.”

  She didn't say anything. I beat it and found the waitress and got my check from her, paid at the desk, and went out. Across the street and down a little I found a drug store with a lunch counter, entered, and consumed two ham sandwiches and a couple of glasses of milk. I wondered what they would do with the beans, whether they would put them back in the pot, and thought it would be a crime to waste them. I didn't wonder much about Helen Frost, because it looked to me like a pipe, all sealed up. There wasn't anything else for her to do.

  There wasn't. She came up to me at ten minutes to two, as I stood on the sidewalk alongside the roadster. I opened the door and she got in, and I climbed in and stepped on the starter.

  As we rolled off I asked her, “Did you eat anything?”

  She nodded. “A little. I telephoned Mrs. Lament and told her where I'm going and said I'd be back at three o'clock.”

  “Uh-huh. You may make it.”

  I drove cocky because I felt cocky. I had her on the way and the sandwiches hadn't been greasy and it wasn't two o'clock yet; and even down in the mouth and with rings under her eyes, she was the kind of riding companion that makes it reasonable to put the top down so the public can see what you've got with you.

  Being a lover of beauty, I permitted myself occasional glances at her profile, and observed that her chin was even better from that angle than from the front.

  Of course there was an off chance that she was a murderess, but you can't have everything.

  We made it at one minute past two. When I ushered her into the office there was no one there, and I left her there in a chair, fearing the worst. But it was okay. Wolfe was in the dining-room with his coffee cup emptied, doing his postprandial beaming at space. I stood on the threshold and said:

  “I trust the fritters were terrible. Miss Frost regrets being one minute late for her appointment. We got to chatting over a delicious lunch, and the time just flew.”

  “She's here? The devil.” The beam changed to a frown as he made preparations to arise. “Don't suppose for a moment that I am beguiled. I don't really like this.”

  I preceded him to open the office door. He moved across to his desk more deliberately even than usual, circled around Miss Frost in her chair, and, before he lowered himself, inclined his head toward her without saying anything.

  She leveled her brown eyes at him, and I could see that by gum she was holding the fort and she was going to go on holding it. I got at ease in my chair with my notebook, not trying to camouflage it.

  Wolfe asked her politely, “You wished to see me, Miss Frost?”

  Her eyes bulged a little. She said indignantly, “I? You sent that man to bring me here.”

  “Ah, so I did.” Wolfe sighed. “Now that you are here, have you anything in particular to say to me?”

  She opened her mouth and shut it again, and then said simply, “No.”

  Wolfe heaved another sigh. He leaned back in his chair and made a movement to clasp his hands on his front middle, then remembered that it was too soon after lunch and let them drop on the arms of his chair. With half-shut eyes he sat comfortable, motionless.

  At length he murmured at her, “How old are you?”

  “I'll be twenty-one in May.”

  “Indeed. What day in May?”

  “The seventh.”

  “I understand that you call Mr. McNair ‘Uncle Boyd.’ Your cousin told me that.

  Is he your uncle?”

  “Why, no. Of course not. I just call him that.”

  “Have you known him a long while?”

  “All my life. He is an old friend of my mother's.”

  “You would know his preferences then. In candy, for instance. What kind does he prefer?”

  She lost color, but she was pretty good with her eyes and voice. She didn't bat a lash. “I…I don't know. Really. I couldn't say…”

  “Come, Miss Frost.” Wolfe kept his tone easy. “I am not asking you to divulge some esoteric secret guarded by you alone. On this sort of detail many people may be consulted-any of Mr. McNair's intimates, many of his acquaintances, the servants at his home, the shops where he buys candy if he does buy it. If, for example, he happens to prefer Jordan almonds, those persons could tell me. I happen at the moment to be consulting you. Is there any reason why you should try to conceal this point?”

  “Of course not.” She hadn't got her color back. “I don't need to conceal anything.” She swallowed. “Mr. McNair does like Jordan almonds, that's perfectly true.” Suddenly the color did appear, a spot on her cheek that showed how quick her blood was. “But I didn't come here to talk about the kinds of candy that people like. I came here to tell you that you were entirely wrong about what I said yesterday.”

  “Then you do have something in particular to say to me.”

  “Certainly I have.” She was wanning up. “That was just a trick and you know it.

  I didn't want my mother and my uncle to come down here, but my cousin Lew lost his head as usual, he's always getting scared about me anyhow, as if I didn't have brains enough to take care of myself. You merely tricked me into saying something-I don't know what-that gave you a chance to pretend-”

  “But, Miss Frost.” Wolfe had a palm up at her. “Your cousin Lew is perfectly correct. I mean, about your brains. – No, permit me! Let me save time. I won't repeat verbatim what was said yesterday; you know as well as I do. I shall merely assert that the words you said, and the way you said them, make it apodictical that you knew the contents of that particular box of candy before

  Miss Mitchell removed the lid.”

  “That isn't true! I didn't say-”r />
  “Oh, but you did.” Wolfe's tone sharpened. “Understand me. Confound it, do you think I'll squabble with a chit like you? Or do you expect your loveliness to paralyze my intelligence? – Archie. Take this on the typewriter, please. One carbon. Letter-size, headed at the top, Alternative Statements for Helen Frost.”

  I swiveled around and swung the machine up and got the paper in. “Shoot.”

  Wolfe dictated:

  “1. I admit that I knew the contents of the box of candy, and am ready to explain to Nero Wolfe how I knew, truthfully and in detail.

  “2. I admit that I knew the contents. I refuse for the present to explain, but am ready to submit to questioning by Nero Wolfe on any other matters, reserving the right to withhold replies at my discretion.

  “3. I admit that I knew the contents, but refuse to continue the conversation.

  “4. I deny that I knew the contents.”

  Wolfe sat up. “Thank you, Archie. No, I'll take the carbon; the original to Miss

  Frost.” He turned to her. “Read them over, please. – You observe the distinctions? Here's a pen; I would like you to initial one of them. One moment.

  First I should tell you, I am willing to accept either number one or number two.

  I will not accept either of the others. If you choose number three or number four, I shall have to resign the commission I have undertaken for your cousin, and take certain steps at once.”

  She wasn't a goddess any more; she was too flustered for a goddess. But it took her only a few seconds to collect enough sense to see that she was only gumming the works by fiddling with the paper. She looked level at Wolfe: “I…I don't have to initial anything. Why should I initial anything?” The spots of color appeared again. “It's all a trick and you know it! Anybody that's clever enough can ask people questions and trick them around to some kind of an answer that sounds like-”