Red Box, The nwo-4

by Rex Stout

  “Miss Frost! Please. Do you mean to stick to your absurd denial?”

  “Certainly I stick to it, and there's nothing absurd about it. I can warn you, too, when my cousin Lew-”

  Wolfe's head pivoted and he snapped, “Archie. Get Mr. Cramer.”

  I pulled my phone across and dialed the number. They switched me to the extension and I got the clerk and asked for Inspector Cramer. For the sake of

  Wolfe's cake that had to have a hot griddle right then, I was hoping he wouldn't be out, and he wasn't. His voice boomed at me in the receiver:

  “Hello! Hello, Goodwin! You got something?”

  “Inspector Cramer? Hold the wire. Mr. Wolfe wants to speak to you.”

  I gave Wolfe a nod and he reached for his instrument. But the chit was on her feet, looking mad enough to eat nettle salad. Before lifting his receiver Wolfe said to her:

  “As a courtesy, you may have a choice. Do you wish Mr. Goodwin to take you to police headquarters, or shall Mr. Cramer send for you?”

  Her voice at him was a croak: “Don't…don't…” She grabbed up the pen and wrote her name under statement number two on tie paper. She was so mad her hand trembled. Wolfe spoke into the phone:

  “Mr. Cramer? How do you do. I was wondering if you have arrived at any conclusions from this morning… Indeed…I wouldn't say that…No, I haven't, but I've started a line of inquiry which may develop into something later… No, nothing for you now; as you know, I fancy my own discretion in these matters…You must leave that to me, sir…”

  When he hung up, Helen Frost was sitting down again, looking at him with her chin up and her lips pushed together. Wolfe picked up the paper and glanced at it, handed it across to me, and settled back in his chair. He reached forward to ring for beer, and settled back again.

  “So. Miss Frost, you have acknowledged that you possess information regarding an implement of murder which you refuse to disclose. I wish to remind you that I have not engaged to keep that acknowledgment confidential. For the present I shall do so; I am not committing myself beyond that. Do you know the police mind? One of its first and most constant assumptions is that any withheld knowledge regarding a crime is guilty knowledge. It is a preposterous assumption, but they hug it to their bosoms. For instance, if they knew what you have just signed, they would proceed on the theory that you either put the poison in the candy or know who did. I shall not do that. But as a matter of form I shall ask the question: did you poison that candy?”

  She was pretty good, at that. She answered in a calm voice that was only pinched a little, “No. I didn't.”

  “Do you know who did?”

  “No.”

  “Are you engaged to be married?”

  She compressed her lips. “That is none of your business.”

  Wolfe said patiently, “I shall have to ask you about many things which you will regard as none of my business. Really, Miss Frost, it is foolish of you to irritate me unnecessarily. The question I just asked is completely innocuous; any of your friends could probably answer it; why shouldn't you? Do you imagine this is a friendly chat we are having? By no means. It is a very one-sided affair. I am forcing you to reply to questions by threatening to turn you over to the police if you don't. Are you engaged to be married?”

  She was cracking a little. Her fists were clenched in her lap, and she looked smaller, as if she had shrunk, and her eyes got so damp that finally a tear formed in the corner of each one and dripped out. Without paying any attention to them, she said to Wolfe, looking at him, “You're a dirty fat beast.

  You…you…”

  He nodded. “I know. I ask questions of women only when it is unavoidable, because I abominate hysterics. Wipe your eyes.”

  She didn't move. He sighed. “Are you engaged to be married?”

  Tears of rage were also in her voice. “I am not.”

  “Did you buy that diamond on your finger?”

  She glanced at it involuntarily. “No.”

  “Who gave it to you?”

  “Mr. McNair.”

  “And the one set in your vanity case-who gave you that one?”

  “Mr. McNair.”

  “Astonishing. I wouldn't have supposed you cared for diamonds.” Wolfe opened a bottle of beer and filled his glass. “You mustn't mind me, Miss Frost. I mean, my seeming inconsequence. A servant girl named Anna Fiore sat in that chair once and conversed with me for five hours. The Duchess of Rathkyn did so for most of a night. I am apt to poke into almost any comer, and I beg you to bear with me.”

  He lifted the glass and emptied it in par. “For instance, this diamond business is curious. Do you like them?”

  “I don't…not ordinarily.”

  “Is Mr. McNair fond of them? Does he make gifts of them more or less at random?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “And although you don't Wee them, you wear these out of…respect for Mr.

  McNair? Affection for an old friend?”

  “I wear them because I happen to feel like it.”

  “Just so. You see, I know very little about Mr. McNair. Is he married?”

  “As I told you, he is an old friend of my mother's. A lifelong friend. He had a daughter about my age, a month or so older, but she died when she was two years old. His wife had died before, when the baby was born. Mr. McNair is the finest man I have ever known. He is…he is my best friend.”

  “And yet he puts diamonds on you. You must forgive my harping on the diamonds; I happen to dislike them. – Oh, yes, I meant to ask, do you know anyone else who is fond of Jordan almonds?”

  “Anybody else?”

  “Besides Mr. McNair.”

  “No, I don't.”

  Wolfe poured more beer and, leaving the foam to settle, leaned back and frowned at his victim. “You know, Miss Frost, it is time something was said to you. In your conceit, you are assuming, for your youth and inexperience, a terrific responsibility. Molly Lauck died nine days ago, probably through bungling of someone's effort to kill another person. During all that time you have possessed knowledge which, handled with competence and dispatch, might do something much more important than wreak vengeance; it might save a life, and it is even possible that the life would be one worth saving. What do you think; isn't that responsibility pretty heavy for you? I have too much sense to try coercion.

  There's too much egotism and too much mule in you. But you really should consider it.” He picked up his glass and drank.

  She sat and watched him. Finally she said, “I have considered it. I'm not an egotist. I…I've considered.”

  Wolfe lifted his shoulders an inch and dropped them. “Very well. I understand that your father is dead. I gathered that from the statement of your uncle, Mr.

  Dudley Frost, that he is the trustee of your property.”

  She nodded. “My father died when I was only a few months old. So I've never had a father.” She frowned. “That is…”

  “Yes? That is?”

  “Nothing.” She shook her head. “Nothing at all.”

  “And what does your property consist of?”

  “I inherited it from my father.”

  “To be sure. How much is it?”

  She lifted her brows. “It is what my father left me.”

  “Oh, come, Miss Frost. Sizes of estates in trust are no secrets nowadays. How much are you worth?”

  She shrugged. “I understand that it is something over two million dollars.”

  “Indeed. Is it intact?”

  “Intact? Why shouldn't it be?”

  “I have no idea. But don't think I am prying into affairs which your family considers too intimate for discussion with outsiders. Your uncle told me yesterday that your mother hasn't got a cent. His expression. Then your father's fortune was all left to you?”

  She flushed a little. “Yes. It was. I have no brother or sister.”

  “And it will be turned over to you-excuse me. If you please, Archie.”

  It was the phone. I wh
eeled to my desk and got it. I recognized the quiet controlled voice before she gave her name, and made my own tones restrained and dignified as she deserved. I don't like hysterics any better than Wolfe does.

  I turned to Helen Frost: “Your mother would like to speak to you.” I got up and held my chair for her, and she moved over to it.

  “Yes, mother…Yes…No, I didn't…I know you said that, but under the circumstances-I can't very well tell you now…I couldn't ask Uncle Boyd about it because he wasn't back from lunch yet, so I just told Mrs. Lament where I was going…No, mother, that's ridiculous, don't you think I'm old enough to know what I'm doing?…I can't do that, and I can't explain till I see you, and when

  I leave here I'll come straight home but I can't tell now when that will be…Don't worry about that, and for heaven's sake give me credit for having a little sense…No…Good-bye…”

  She had color in her face again as she arose and returned to her seat. Wolfe had narrow eyes on her. He murmured sympathetically: “You don't like people fussing about you, do you, Miss Frost? Even your mother. I know. But you must tolerate it. Remember that physically and financially you are well worth some fuss.

  Mentally you are-well-in the pupa stage. I hope you don't mind my discussing you.”

  “It would do me no good to mind it.”

  “I didn't say it would. I only said I hoped you didn't. About your inheritance;

  I presume it will be turned over to you when you come of age on May seventh.”

  “I presume it will.”

  “That is only five weeks off. Twenty-nine, thirty-six-five weeks from tomorrow.

  Two million dollars. Another responsibility for you. Will you continue to work?”

  “I don't know.”

  “Why have you been working? Not for income surely.”

  “Of course not. I work because I enjoy it. I felt silly not doing anything. And

  Uncle Boyd-Mr. McNair-it happened that there was work there I could do.”

  “How long-confound it. Excuse me.”

  It was the telephone again. I swiveled and picked it up and started my usual salutation, “Hello, this is the office-”

  “Hello! Hello there! I want to speak to Nero Wolfe!”

  I made a face at my desk calendar; this was a voice I knew too. I turned on the aggressiveness: “Don't bark like that. Mr. Wolfe is engaged. This is Goodwin, his confidential assistant. Who-”

  “This is Mr. Dudley Frost! I don't care if he is engaged, I want to speak to him at once! Is my niece there? Let me speak to her! Let me speak to Wolfe first!

  He's going to be sorry-”

  I roughened up: “Listen, mister, if you don't turn off that valve a little I'll hang up on you. I mean it. Mr. Wolfe and Miss Frost are having a conversation, and I refuse to disturb them. If you want to leave a message-”

  “I insist on speaking to Wolfe!”

  “You C, A, N, apostrophe, T, can't. Don't be childish.”

  “I'll show you who's childish! You tell Wolfe-tell him that I am my niece's trustee. She is under my protection. I will not have her annoyed. I'll have

  Wolfe and you too arrested as nuisances! She is a minor! I'll have you prosecuted-”

  “Listen, Mr. Frost. Will you listen? What you say is okay. Let me suggest that you have Inspector Cramer do the arresting, because he's been here often and knows the way. Furthermore, I'm going to hang up now, and if you aggravate me by keeping this phone ringing, I'll hunt you up and straighten your nose for you. I mean that with all my heart.”

  I cradled the instrument, picked up my notebook and turned and said curtly,

  “More fuss.”

  Helen Frost said in a strained voice, because she didn't like to have to ask,

  “My cousin?”

  “No. Your uncle. Your cousin comes next.”

  Which was truer and more imminent than I knew. Her mouth opened at me as if for another question, but she decided against it. Wolfe resumed:

  “I was about to ask, how long have you been working?”

  “Nearly two years.” She leaned forward at him. “I'd like to ask…is this…going on indefinitely? You're just trying to provoke me…”

  Wolfe shook his head. “I'm trying not to provoke you. I'm collecting information, possibly none of it germane, but that's my affair.” He glanced at the clock. “It's a quarter past three. At four o'clock I shall ask you to accompany me to my plant rooms on the roof; you'll find the orchids diverting. I should guess we shall be finished by six. I assure you, I'm going through with this. I intend to invite Mr. McNair to call on me this evening. If he finds that inconvenient, then tomorrow. If he refuses, Mr. Goodwin will go to his place in the morning and see what can be done. By the way, I need to be sure that you will be there tomorrow. You will?”

  “Of course. I'm there every- Oh! No. I won't be there. The place will be closed.”

  “Closed? A Thursday? April second?”

  She nodded. “Yes, April second. That's why. That's the date Mr. McNair's wife died.”

  “Indeed. And his daughter born?”

  She nodded again. “He…he always closes up.”

  “And visits the cemetery?”

  “Oh, no. His wife died in Europe, in Paris. Mr. McNair is a Scotsman. He only came to this country about twelve years ago, a little after mother and I came.”

  “Then you spent part of your childhood in Europe?”

  “Most of it. The first eight years. I was born in Paris, but my father and mother were both Americans.” She tilted up her chin. “I'm an American girl.”

  “You look it.” Fritz brought more beer, and Wolfe poured some. “And after twenty years Mr. McNair still shuts up shop on April second in memory of his wife. A steadfast man. Of course, he lost his daughter also-when she was two, I believe you said-which completed his loss. Still he goes on dressing women…well. Then you won't be there tomorrow.”

  “No, but I'll be with Mr. McNair. I…do that for him. He asked it a long time ago, and mother let me, and I always do it. I'm almost exactly the same age his daughter was. Of course I don't remember her, I was too young.”

  “So you spend that day with him as a vicar for his daughter.” Wolfe shivered.

  “His mourning day. Ghoulish. And he puts diamonds on you. However…you are aware, of course, that your cousin, Mr. Llewellyn Frost, wants you to quit your job. Aren't you?”

  “Perhaps I am. But that isn't even any of my business, is it? It's his.”

  “Certainly. Hence mine, since he is my client. Do you forget that he hired me?”

  “I do not.” She sounded scornful. “But I can assure you that I am not going to discuss my cousin Lew with you. He means well. I know that.”

  “But you don't like the fuss.” Wolfe sighed. The foam had gone from his beer, and he tipped a little more in the glass, lifted it, and drank. I sat and tapped with my pencil on my notebook and looked at Miss Frost's ankles and the hint of shapeliness ascending therefrom. I wasn't exactly bored, but I was beginning to get anxious, wondering if the relapse germ was still working on Wolfe's nerve centers. Not only was he not getting anywhere with this hard-working heiress, it didn't sound to me as if he was half trying. Remembering the exhibitions I had seen him put on with others-for instance, Nyura Pronn in the Diplomacy Club business-, I was beginning to harbor a suspicion that he was only killing time.

  At anything like his top form, he should have had this poor little rich girl herded into a corner long ago. But here he was…

  I was diverted by the doorbell buzz and the sound of Fritz's footsteps in the hall going to answer it. The idea popped into my head that Mr. Dudley Frost, not liking the way I had hung up on him, might be dropping around to get his nose straightened, and in a sort of negligent way I got solider in my chair, because

  I knew Wolfe was in no mood to be wafted away again by that verbal cyclone, and

  I damn well wasn't going to pass out any more of the Old Corcoran.

  But it wasn't the cy
clone, it was only the breeze, his son. Our client. Fritz came in and announced him, and at Wolfe's nod went back and brought him in. He wasn't alone. He ushered in ahead of him a plump little duck about his own age, with a round pink face and quick smart eyes. Lew Frost escorted this specimen forward, then dropped it and went to his cousin.

  “Helen! You shouldn't have done this-”

  “Now, Lew, for heaven's sake, why did you come here? Anyway, it's your fault that I had to come.” She saw the plump one. “You too, Bennie?” She looked mad and grim. “Are you armed?”

  Lew Frost turned to Wolfe, looking every inch a football player. “What the hell are you trying to pull? Do you think you can get away with this kind of stuff?

  How would you like it if I pulled you out of that chair-”

  His plump friend grasped his arm, with authority. He was snappy: “None of that,

  Lew. Calm down. Introduce me.”

  Our client controlled himself with an effort. “But, Ben… all right. That's

  Nero Wolfe.” He glared at Wolfe. “This is Mr. Benjamin Leach, my attorney. Try some tricks on him.”

  Wolfe inclined his head. “How do you do, Mr. Leach. I don't know any tricks, Mr.

  Frost. Anyway, aren't you getting things a little complicated? First you hire me to do a job for you, and now, judging from your attitude, you have hired Mr.

  Leach to circumvent me. If you keep on with that-”

  “Not to circumvent you.” The lawyer sounded friendly and smooth. “You see, Mr.

  Wolfe, I'm an old friend of Lew's. He's a little hot-headed. He has told me something about this business…the, er, unusual circumstances, and I just thought it would be all right if he and I were present at any conversations you may have with Miss Frost. In fact, it would have been quite proper if you had arranged for us to be here from the beginning.” He smiled pleasantly. “Isn't that so? Two of you and two of us?”

  Wolfe had on a grimace. “You speak, sir, as if we were hostile armies drawn up for battle. Of course that's natural, since bad blood is for lawyers what a bad tooth is for a dentist. I mean nothing invidious; detectives live on trouble too. But they don't stir it up where there is none-at least, I don't. I don't ask you to sit down, because I don't want you here. I fancy that on that point we shall have to consult-yes, Fritz?”