ALTHEA: No. He—
JIMMY: Or where the body was found?
ALTHEA: No. He—
JIMMY: Or why they think it’s Dinah Utley?
ALTHEA: Yes, things in her bag and in the car. Her car was there. I don’t think — I don’t want to — can’t I send Emil?
JIMMY: Why not? How about it, Goodwin? Emil is the chauffeur. He can certainly tell them whether it’s Dinah Utley or not. Must my wife go? Or must I go?
It was no use pretending I wasn’t there. “No,” I said, “not just for identification. Of course if it’s Dinah Utley they’ll want to ask both of you some questions, if there’s any doubt about how she died, but for that they can come to you. For identification only, even I would do. If you want to ask Mr. Wolfe to send me.”
ALTHEA: Yes! Do that, Jimmy!
JIMMY: Well... maybe... where did he say to come in White Plains?
ME: I know where to go.
ALTHEA: It must be Dinah! She didn’t come home last night and now — this is terrible—
JIMMY: Take it easy, Al. I’ll be there soon. Just take it easy and...
I cradled the phone and went back to the office. Vail was hanging up as I entered. I said to him, “Naturally I want to hear what a client of Mr. Wolfe’s has to say on his phone. And naturally you knew I would.” I turned to Wolfe. “A state cop called Mrs. Vail from White Plains. They have found a woman’s body, he didn’t say where, and from articles in her bag and her car they think it’s Dinah Utley. Also there must have been something that connected her with Mrs. Vail, maybe just the address. He asked Mrs. Vail to come to White Plains and identify her, and she doesn’t want to go, and neither does Mr. Vail. I suggested that she might want to ask you to send me.”
Wolfe was scowling at Vail. He switched it to me. “Did she die by violence?”
“Mrs. Vail doesn’t know. I’ve reported in full.”
“Look,” Vail said, “this is a hell of a thing.” He was standing at the corner of my desk. “Good God. This is a real shocker. I suppose I ought to go myself.”
“If it’s Miss Utley,” Wolfe said, “and if she died by violence, they’ll ask you where you were last night. That would be routine.”
“I’m not telling anyone where I was last night, not until Friday morning. Not even you.”
“Then you’ll be suspect. You and your wife should confer without delay. And if Mr. Goodwin goes to identify the body and it is Miss Utley, he will be asked about his association with her, when and where he has seen her. You know she was here yesterday?”
“Yes. My wife told me. But my God, he won’t tell them about that, why she came here!”
Wolfe leaned back and shut his eyes. Vail started to say something, saw he wouldn’t be heard, and stopped. He went to the red leather chair and sat, then got up again, walked halfway to the door, turned, and came back to Wolfe’s desk and stood looking down at him.
Wolfe’s eyes opened, and he straightened up. “Archie, get Mrs. Vail.”
“I’m here,” Vail said. “You can talk to me.”
“You’re not my client, Mr. Vail. Your wife is.”
I was dialing. The number was in my head, where I had filed it when I looked it up Tuesday night. A female voice said, “Mrs. Vail’s residence,” and I said Nero Wolfe wanted to speak with Mrs. Vail. After a wait our client’s voice came, “This is Althea Vail. Mr. Wolfe?” and I nodded to Wolfe and he took his phone. I stayed on, but I had to fight for it. Jimmy Vail came to take it away from me, reaching for it and getting his fingers on it, but I kept it against my ear and didn’t hear what he said because I was listening to Wolfe.
“Good morning, madam. I was gratified to see your husband, as of course you were. The telephone call you received from White Plains puts a new problem, and I offer a suggestion. I understand that you prefer not to go to White Plains to see if the dead woman is Miss Utley. Is that correct?”
“Yes. Archie Goodwin said he would go.”
Wolfe grunted. “Mr. Goodwin will always go. He is uh — energetic. But there are difficulties. If it is Miss Utley, he will be asked when and where he last saw her, and when he says she came to my office yesterday he will be asked for particulars. If he gives them in full he will have to include the fact that when she left we, he and I, had formed a strong suspicion that she was implicated in the kidnaping of your husband, and then—”
“Dinah? She was implicated? That’s ridiculous! Why did you suspect that?”
“I reserve that. I’ll explain it later — or I won’t. Then they’ll demand full information about the kidnaping, not only from Mr. Goodwin and me, but from you and your husband, and they won’t want to wait until Friday for it. That’s the prob—”
“But why did you suspect Dinah?”
“That will have to wait. So I offer a suggestion. You gave me checks for sixty thousand dollars. I told you I would refund a portion of it if your husband came back alive, since it covered the contingency that I might have to meet the commitment I made in that published notice. I would prefer to keep it, but if I do I’ll have to earn it. My suggestion is that I send Mr. Goodwin to White Plains to look at the body. If it is Miss Utley, he identifies it, he says that he saw her for the first and last time when she came to my office yesterday in connection with a confidential job you had hired me for, and on instructions from me he refuses to give any further information. Also I engage that neither he nor I will disclose anything whatever regarding your husband’s kidnaping before eleven o’clock Friday morning unless you give your consent. That will expose us to inconvenience and possibly serious embarrassment, and I shall not feel obliged to return any money to you. I will owe you nothing, and you will owe me nothing. That’s my suggestion. I should add, not to coerce you, merely to inform you, that if it isn’t accepted I can no longer withhold my knowledge of a capital crime, kidnaping. I’ll have to inform the proper authority immediately.”
“That’s a threat. That’s blackmail.”
“Pfui. I’ve offered to incur a considerable risk for a moderate fee. I withdraw my suggestion. I’ll send you a check today. That will end—”
“No! Don’t hang up!” Nothing for five seconds. “I want to speak to my husband.”
“Very well.” Wolfe looked around, then at me, and demanded, “Where is he?”
I covered the transmitter. “Skipped. Right after you said we suspected that Dinah was implicated. Gone. I heard the front door close.”
“I didn’t.” He returned to the phone. “Your husband has left, Mrs. Vail, presumably to go to you. I didn’t see him go. I’ll send you a check—”
“No!” Another silence, a little longer. “All right, send Archie Goodwin. To White Plains.”
“With the understanding that I proposed?”
“Yes. But I want to know why you thought Dinah was implicated. That’s incredible!”
“To you, no doubt. It was merely a conjecture, possibly ill-grounded. Another time I may explain it, but not now. I must get Mr. Goodwin off. Permit me.”
He hung up, and so did I. I got up and crossed to the hall, went to the front door to see that it was closed, opened the door to the front room and looked in, returned to the office, and told Wolfe, “He’s gone. Not that I thought our client’s husband would try any tricks, but he might have got confused and shut the door while he was still inside. Instructions?”
“Not necessary. You heard what I said to Mrs. Vail.”
“Yeah, that’s okay, the worst they can do is toss me in the jug, and what the hell, you’re getting paid for it. But are we curious about anything? Do we care what happened to her, and when and where?”
“No. We are not concerned.”
I headed for the hall, but at the door I turned. “You know,” I said, “some day it may cost you something. You know damned well that we may have to be concerned and you may have to work, and it might be helpful for me to collect a few facts while they’re still warm. But will you admit it? No. Why? Because you think I’m so — uh — energetic that I’ll get the facts anyhow and have them available if and when you need them. For once I won’t. If somebody wants to tell me no matter what, I’ll say I’m not concerned.”