Brady to prescribe the wrong medicine for your
daughter? Ask Bess Huddleston. She can tell you if
she will. She told me. |
There was no signature. I handed the sheet and envelope back to Wolfe.
Bess Huddleston used her handkerchief on her forehead and throat again. "There was another one," she said, looking at Wolfe but her eyes making me feel she was looking at me, "but I haven't got it. That one, as you see, is postmarked Tuesday, August 12th, six days ago. The other one was mailed a day earlier, Monday, the 11th, aweek ago today. Typewritten, just like that. I've seen it. It was sent to a very rich and prominent man, and it said- I'll repeat it. It said: 'Where and with whom does your wife spend most of her afternoons? If you knew you would be surprised. My authority for this is Bess Huddleston. Ask her.' The man showed it to me. His wife is one of my best-"
"Please." Wolfe wiggled a finger at her. "Are you consulting me or hiring me?"
"I'm hiring you. To find out who sent those things."
"It's a mean kind of a job. Often next to impossible. Nothing but greed could induce me to tackle it."
"Certainly." Bess Huddleston nodded impatiently. "I know how to charge too. I expect to get soaked. But where will I be if this isn't stopped and stopped quick?"
"Very well. Archie, your notebook."
I got it out and got busy. She reeled it off to me while Wolfe rang for beer and then leaned back and closed his eyes. But he opened one of them halfway when he heard her telling me about the stationery and the typewriter. The paper and envelopes of both the anonymous letters, she said, were the kind used for personal correspondence by a girl who worked for her as her assistant in party-arranging, named Janet Nichols; and the letters and envelopes had been typed on a typewriter that belonged to Bess Huddleston herself which was used by another girl who worked for her as her secretary, named Maryella Timms. Bess Huddleston had done no comparing with a magnifying glass, but it looked like the work of that typewriter. Both girls lived with her in her house at Riverdale, and there was a large box of that stationery in Janet Nichols' room.
Then if not one of the girls--one of the girls? Wolfe muttered, "Facts, Archie." Servants? No use to bother about the servants, Bess Huddleston said; no servant ever stayed with her long enough to develop a grudge. I passed it with a nod having read about the alligators and bears and other disturbing elements in newspaper and magazine pieces. Did anyone else live in the house? Yes, a nephew, Lawrence Huddleston, also on the payroll as an assistant party-arranger, but, according to Aunt Bess, not on any account to be suspected. That all? Yes. Any persons sufficiently intimate with the household to have had access to the typewriter and Janet Nichols' stationery?
Certainly, as possibilities, many people.
Wolfe grunted impolitely. I asked, for another fact, what about the insinuations in the anonymous letters? The wrong medicine and the questionable afternoons? Bess Huddleston's black eyes snapped at me. She knew nothing about those things. And anyway, they were irrelevant. The point was that some malicious person was trying to ruin her by spreading hints that she was blabbing guilty secrets about people, and whether the secrets happened to be true or not had nothing to do with it. Okay, I told her, forget about where Mrs. Rich Man spends her afternoons, maybe at the ball game, but as a matter of record did Mrs. Jervis Horrocks have a daughter, and had she been sick, and had Dr. Brady attended her? Yes, Bess Huddleston said impatiently, Mrs. Horrocks' daughter had died a month ago and Dr. Brady had been her doctor. Died of what? Tetanus. How had she got tetanus? By scratching her arm on a nail in a riding-academy stable.
Wolfe muttered, "There is no wrong medicine-"
"It was terrible," Bess Huddleston interrupted, "but it has nothing to do with this. I'm going to be late for my appointment with the Mayor. This is perfectly simple. Someone wanted to ruin me and conceived this filthy way of doing it, that's all. It has to be stopped, and if you're as smart as you're supposed to be, you can stop it. Of course, I ought to tell you, I know who did it."
I cocked my head at her. Wolfe's eyes opened wide.
"What? You know?"
"Yes, I think I know. No, I do know."
"Then why, madam, are you annoying me?"
"Because I can't prove it. And she denies it."
"Indeed." Wolfe shot a sharp glance at her. "You seem to be less intelligent than you look. If, having no proof, you charged her with it."
"Did I say charged her with it? I didn't. I discussed it with her, and also with Maryella, and my nephew, and Dr. Brady, and my brother. I asked them questions. I saw I couldn't handle it. So I came to you."
"By elimination-the culprit is Miss Nichols."
"Yes."
Wolfe was frowning. "But you have no proof. What do you have?"
"I have-a feeling."
"Pfui. Based on what?"
"I know her."
"You do." Wolfe continued to frown, and his lips pushed out, once, and in again. "By divination? Phrenology? What specific revelations of her character have you observed? Does she pull chairs from under people?"
"Cut the glitter," Bess Huddleston snapped, frowning back at him. "You know quite well what I mean. I say I know her, that's all. Her eyes, her voice, her manner-"
"I see. Flatly, you don't like her. She must be either remarkably stupid or extremely clever, to have used her own stationery for anonymous letters. Had you thought of that?"
"Certainly. She is clever."
"But knowing she did this, you keep her in your employ, in your house?"
"Of course I do. If I discharged her, would that stop her?"
"No. But you say you think her guilty because you know her. That means you knew a week ago, a month ago, a year ago that she was the sort of person who would do this sort of thing. Why didn't you get rid of her?"
"Because I-" Bess Huddleston hesitated. "What difference does that make?" she demanded.
"It makes a big difference to me, madam. You've hired me to investigate the source of those letters. I am doing so now. I am considering the possibility that you sent them yourself."
Her eyes flashed at him. "I? Nonsense."
"Then answer me." Wolfe was imperturbable. "Since you knew what Miss Nichols was like, why didn't you fire her?"
"Because I needed her. She's the best assistant I've ever had. Her ideas are simply… take the Stryker dwarf and giant party… that was her idea… this is confidential… some of my biggest successes…"
"I see. How long has she worked for you?"
"Three years."
"Do you pay her adequately?"
"Yes. I didn't, but I do now. Ten thousand a year."
"Then why does she want to ruin you? Just cussedness? Or has she got it in for you?"
"She has-she thinks she has a grievance."
"What about?"
"Something…" Bess Huddleston shook her head. "That's of no importance. A private matter. It wouldn't help you any. I am willing to pay your bill for finding out who sent those letters and getting proof."
"You mean you will pay me for fastening the guilt on Miss Nichols."