by Rex Stout
So it was Carol Annis with the corn-silk hair, that was plain enough, but there was no salt on her tail. If she was really smart and really tough she might decide to sit tight and not come, figuring that when they came at her with Zoltan's story she would say he was either mistaken or lying, and we would be up a stump. If she was dumb and only fairly tough she might scram. Of course they would find her and haul her back, but if she said Zoltan was lying and she had run because she thought she was being framed, again we would be up a stump. But if she was both smart and tough but not quite enough of either, she would turn up at nine o'clock and join Zoltan. From there on it would be up to him, but that had been rehearsed too, and after his performance on the phone I thought he would deliver.
At half past eight Purley said, "She's not coming," and removed his earphone.
"I never thought she would," I said. The "she" was of course Peggy Choate, whose hour had been seven-thirty. "I said you never can tell with a redhead merely to make conversation."
Purley signaled to Piotti, who had been hovering around most of the time, and he brought us a pot of coffee and two fresh cups. The minutes were snails, barely moving. When we had emptied
Poison ci la Carte 55
the cups I poured more. At 8:48 Purley put his earphone back on. At 8:56 I asked, "Shall I do a countdown?"
"You'd clown in the hot seat," he muttered, so hoarse that it was barely words. He always gets hoarser as the tension grows; that's the only sign.
It was four minutes past nine when the phone brought me the sound of a chair scraping, then faintly Zoltan's voice saying good evening, and then a female voice, but I couldn't get the words.
"Not loud enough," Purley whispered hoarsely.
"Shut up." I had my pen out. "They're standing up."
There came the sound of chairs scraping, and other little sounds, and then:
Zoltan: Will you have a drink?
Carol: No. I don't want anything.
Zoltan: Won't you eat something?
Carol: I don't feel . . . maybe I will.
Purley and I exchanged glances. That was promising. That sounded as if we might get more than conversation.
Another female voice, belonging to Mrs. Piotti: We have good Osso Buco, madame. Very good. A specialty.
Carol: No, not meat.
Zoltan: A sweet perhaps?
Carol: No.
Zoltan: It is more friendly if we eat. The spaghetti with anchovy sauce is excellent. I had some.
Carol: You had some?
I bit my lip, but he handled it fine.
Zoltan: I've been here half an hour, I wanted so much to see you. I thought I should order something, and I tried that. I might even eat another portion.
Carol: You should know good food. All right.
Mrs. Piotti: Two spaghetti anchovy. Wine? A very good Chianti?
Carol: No. Coffee.
Pause.
Zoltan: You are more lovely without a veil, but the veil is good too. It makes me want to see behind it. Of course I--
Carol: You have seen behind it, Mr. Mahany.
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Zoltan: Ah! You know my name?
Carol: It was in the paper.
Zoltan: I am not sorry that you know it, I want you to know my name, but it will be nicer if you call me Zoltan.
Carol: I might some day. It will depend. I certainly won't call you Zoltan if you go on thinking what you said on the phone. You're mistaken, Mr. Mahany. You didn't see me go back for another plate, because I didn't. I can't believe you would tell a vicious lie about me, so I just think you're mistaken.
Mrs. Piotti, in the kitchen for the spaghetti, came to the corner to stoop and hiss into my free ear, "She's wearing a veil."
Zoltan: I am not mistaken, my dear. That is useless. I know. How could I be mistaken when the first moment I saw you I felt . . . but I will not try to tell you how I felt. If any of the others had come and taken another plate I would have stopped her, but not you. Before you I was dumb. So it is useless.
Needing only one hand for my pen, I used the free one to blow a kiss to Purley.
Carol: I see. So you're sure.
Zoltan: I am, my dear. Very sure.
Carol: But you haven't told the police.
Zoltan: Of course not. As I told you.
Carol: Have you told Nero Wolfe or Archie Goodwin?
Zoltan: I have told no one. How could I tell anyone? Mr. Wolfe is sure that the one who returned for another plate is the one who killed that man, gave him poison, and Mr. Wolfe is always right. So it is terrible for me. Could I tell anyone that I know you killed a man? You? How could I? That is why I had to see you, to talk with you. If you weren't wearing that veil I could look into your beautiful eyes. I think I know what I would see there. I would see suffering and sorrow. I saw that in your eyes Tuesday evening. I know he made you suffer. I know you wouldn't kill a man unless you had to. That is why�
The voice stopped. That was understandable, since Mrs. Piotti had gone through the door with the spaghetti and coffee and had had time to reach their table. Assorted sounds came as she served them. Purley muttered, "He's overdoing it," and I muttered back,
Poison a la Carte 57
"No. He's perfect." Piotti came over and stood looking down at my notebook. It wasn't until after Mrs. Piotti was back in the kitchen that Carol's voice came.
Carol: That's why I am wearing the veil, Zoltan, because I know it's in my eyes. You're right. I had to. He did make me suffer.
f He ruined my life.
| Zoltan: No, my dear. Your life is not ruined. No! No matter
'. what he did. Was he ... did he ...
V I was biting my lip again. Why didn't he give them the signal? The food had been served and presumably they were eating. He had been told that it would be pointless to try to get her to give him any details of her relations with Pyle, since they would almost certainly be lies. Why didn't he give the signal? Her voice was coming:
Carol: He promised to marry me. I'm only twenty-two years old, Zoltan. I didn't think I would ever let a man touch me again, but the way you ... I don't know. I'm glad you know I killed him because it will be better now, to know that somebody knows.
; To know that you know. Yes, I had to kill him, I had to, because if I didn't I would have had to kill myself. Some day I may tell you what a fool I was, how I--Oh! Zoltan: What? What's the matter?
Carol: My bag. I left it in my car. Out front. And I didn't lock the car. A blue Plymouth hardtop. Would you . . . I'll go. ... Zoltan: I'll get it.
' The sound came of his chair scraping, then faintly his footsteps,
I and then silence. But the silence was broken in ten seconds,
: whereas it would have taken him at least a minute to go for the purse and return. What broke it was a male voice saying, "I'm an officer of the law, Miss Annis," and a noise from Carol. Purley, shedding his earphone, jumped up and went, and I followed, notebook in hand.
It was quite a tableau. The male dick stood with a hand on Carol's shoulder. Carol sat stiff, her chin up, staring straight ahead. The female dick, not much older than Carol, stood facing her from across the table, holding with both hands, at breast level, a plate of spaghetti. She spoke to Purley. "She put something in it and
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then stuck something in her dress. I saw her in my mirror." I moved in. After all, I was in charge, under the terms Cramer
had agreed to. "Thank you, Miss Annis," I said. "You were a help.
On a signal from Zoltan they were going to start a commotion to
give him an excuse to leave the table, but you saved them the
trouble. I thought you'd like to know. Come on, Zoltan. All over.
According to plan." He had entered and stopped three paces off, a blue handbag
under his arm. As he moved toward us Purley put out a hand.
Til take that."
IX
&nbs
p; Cramer was in the red leather chair. Carol Annis was in a yellow one facing Wolfe's desk, with Purley on one side of her and his female colleague on the other. The male colleague had been sent to the laboratory with the plate of spaghetti and a roll of paper that had been fished from inside Carol's dress. Fritz, Felix, and Zoltan were on the couch near the end of my desk.
"I will not pretend, Miss Annis," Wolfe was saying. "One reason that I persuaded Mr. Cramer to have you brought here first on your way to limbo was that I needed to appease my rancor. You had injured and humiliated not only me, but also one of my most valued friends, Fritz Brenner, and two other men whom I esteem, and I had arranged the situation that gave you your opportunity; and I wished them to witness ydur own humiliation, contrived by me, in my presence."
"That's enough of that," Cramer growled.
Wolfe ignored him. "I admit the puerility of that reason, Miss Annis, but in candor I wanted to acknowledge it. A better reason was that I wished to ask you a few questions. You took such prodigious risks that it is hard to believe in your sanity, and it would give me no satisfaction to work vengeance on a madwoman. What would you have done if Felix's eyes had been on you when you entered with the plate of poison and went to Mr. Pyle? Or
Poison a la Cane 59
if, when you returned to the kitchen for a second plate, Zoltan had challenged you? What would you have done?"
No answer. Apparently she was holding her gaze straight at Wolfe, hut from my angle it was hard to tell because she still had the veil on. Asked by Cramer to remove it, she had refused. When the female dick had extracted the roll of paper from inside Carol's dress she had asked Cramer if she should pull the veil off and Cramer had said no. No rough stuff.
There was no question about Wolfe's gaze at her. He was forward in his chair, his palms flat on his desk. He persisted. 'Will you answer me, Miss Annis?"
She wouldn't.
"Are you a lunatic, Miss Annis?"
She wasn't saying.
Wolfe's head jerked to me. "Is she deranged, Archie?"
That was unnecessary. When we're alone I don't particularly mind his insinuations that I presume to be an authority on women, but there was company present. I gave him a look and snapped, "No comment."
He returned to her. "Then that must wait. I leave to the police such matters as your procurement of the poison and your relations with Mr. Pyle, mentioning only that you cannot now deny possession of arsenic, since you used it a second time this evening. It will unquestionably be found in the spaghetti and in the roll of paper you concealed in your dress; and so, manifestly, if you are mad you are also ruthless and malevolent. You may have been intolerably provoked by Mr. Pyle, but not by Zoltan. He presented himself not as a nemesis or a leech, but as a bewitched and befuddled champion. He offered his homage and compassion, making no demands, and your counter-offer was death. I would myself-"
"You lie," Carol said. It was her first word. "And he lied. He was going to lie about me. He didn't see me go back for a second plate, but he was going to say he did. And you lie. He did make demands. He threatened me."
Wolfe's brows went up. "Then you haven't been told?"
"Told what?"
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"That you were overheard. That is the other question I had for you. I have no apology for contriving the trap, but you deserve to know you are in its jaws. All that you and Zoltan said was heard by two men at the other end of a wire in another room, and they recorded it--Mr. Stebbins of the police, now seated at your left, and Mr. Goodwin."
"You lie," she said.
"No, Miss Annis. This isn't the trap; it has already sprung. You have it, Mr. Stebbins?"
Purley nodded. He hates to answer questions from Wolfe.
"Archie?"
"Yes, sir."
"Did Zoltan threaten her or make demands?"
"No, sir. He followed instructions."
He returned to Carol. "Now you know. I wanted to make sure of that. To finish, since you may have had a just and weighty grievance against Mr. Pyle, I would myself prefer to see you made to account for your attempt to kill Zoltan, but that is not in my discretion. In any case, my rancor is appeased, and I hold--"
"That's enough," Cramer blurted, leaving his chair. "I didn't agree to let you preach at her all night. Bring her along, Sergeant."
As Purley arose a voice came. "May I say something?" It was Fritz. Heads turned as he left the couch and moved, detouring around Zoltan's feet and Purley's bulk to get to Carol, and turning to stand looking down at her.
"On account of what Mr. Wolfe said," he told her. "He said you injured me, and that is true. It is also true that I wanted him to find you. I can't speak for Felix, and you tried to kill Zoltan and I can't speak for him, but I can speak for myself. I forgive you."
"You lie," Carol said.
METHOD THREE FOR MURDER
When I first set eyes on Mira Holt, as I opened the front door and she was coming up the seven steps to the stoop, she was a problem, though only a minor one compared to what followed.
At the moment I was unemployed. During the years I have worked for Nero Wolfe and lived under his roof, I have quit and been fired about the same number of times, say thirty or forty. Mostly we have been merely letting off steam, but sometimes we have meant it, more or less, and that Monday evening in September I was really fed up. The main dish at dinner had been pork stewed in beer, which both Wolfe and Fritz know I can get along without, and we had left the dining room and crossed the hall to the office, and Fritz had brought coffee and Wolfe had poured it, and I had said, "By the way, I told Anderson I'd phone and confirm his appointment for tomorrow morning."
And Wolfe had said, "No. Cancel it." He picked up the book he was on, John Gunther's Inside Russia Today.
I sat in my working chair and looked across his desk at him. Since he weighs a seventh of a ton he always looks big, but when he's being obnoxious he looks even bigger. "Do you suppose it's possible," I asked, "that that pork has a blo'ating effect?"
"No indeed," he said, and opened the book.
If I had been a camel and the book had been a straw you could have heard my spine crack. He knew darned well he shouldn't have opened it until we had finished with coffee. I put my cup
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down. "I am aware," I said, "that you are sitting pretty. The bank balance is fat enough for months of paying Fritz and Theodore and me, and buying pork and beer in car lots, and adding more orchids to the ten thousand you've already got. I'll even grant that a private detective has a right to refuse to take a case with or without a reason. But as I told you before dinner, this Anderson is known to me, and he asked me as a personal favor to get him fifteen minutes with you, and I told him to come at eleven o'clock tomorrow morning. If you're determined not to work because your tax bracket is already too high, okay, all you have to do is tell him no. He'll be here at eleven."
He was holding the book open and his eyes were on it, but he spoke. "You know quite well, Archie, that I must be consulted on appointments. Did you owe this man a favor?"
"I do now that he asked for one and I said yes."
"Did you owe him one before?"
"No."
"Then you are committed but I am not. Since I wouldn't take the job it would waste his time and mine. Phone him not to come. Tell him I have other engagements."
So I quit. I admit that on some other occasions my quitting had been merely a threat, to jolt him into seeing reason, but not that time. When a mule plants its feet a certain way there's no use trying to budge it. I swiveled, got my memo pad, wrote on it, yanked the sheet off, got up and crossed to his desk, and handed him the sheet.
"That's Anderson's number," I told him. "If you're too busy to phone him not to come, Fritz can. I'm through. I'll stay with friends tonight and come tomorrow for my stuff."
His eyes had left the book to glare at me. "Pfui," he said.
"I agree," I said. "Abs
olutely." I turned and marched out. I do not say that as I got my hat from the rack in the hall my course was clearly mapped for the next twenty years, or even twenty hours. Wolfe owned the house but not everything in it, for the furniture in my room on the third floor had been bought and paid for by me. That would have to wait until I found a place to move it to, but I would get my clothes and other items tomorrow, and
Method Three for Murder 63
would I come for them before eleven o'clock and learn from Fritz whether a visitor named Anderson was expected, or would it he better strategy to come in the afternoon and learn if Anderson had been admitted and given his fifteen minutes? Facing that problem as I pulled the door open, I was immediately confronted by another one. A female was coming up the seven steps to the stoop.
ii
I couldn't greet her and ask her business, since it was a cinch she would say she wanted to see Nero Wolfe and I couldn't carry on with a job I no longer held by returning to the office to ask Wolfe if he would receive a caller. Anyway I wouldn't. I couldn't step aside and let her enter by the door I had opened with no questions asked, since there was a possibility that she was one of the various people who had it in for Wolfe, and while I might have considered shooting him myself I didn't want to get him plugged by a total stranger. So I crossed the sill, pulled the door shut, sidestepped to pass her, and was starting down the steps when my sleeve was caught and jerked.
"Hey," she said, "aren't you Archie Goodwin?"
My eyes slanted down to hers. "You're guessing," I said.
"I am not. I've seen you at the Flamingo. You're not very polite, shutting the door in my face." She spoke in jerks, as if she wasn't sure she had enough breath. "I want to see Nero Wolfe."
