My brain was a little tired after the long day, but it was doing its best. This character was by no means crossed off. We only had his word for it that he would give both arms to help Lucy; he had said himself that she didn't know how he felt about her. A chat with him wouldn't hurt and might help, but I couldn't take him home with me until I knew what Wolfe had on his program, if anything.
He still had fists. "I'll tell you what," I said. "We'll go around the comer to Jake's and I'll buy you a drink and we'll discuss it. Then if you still want to take a poke at me Jake will let us use the back room provided we let him watch. Afterwards you can comb your hair if you're up to it. It needs it."
It didn't appeal to him, but what would have? A couple of passersby, noticing his stance and his fists, had stopped to see, and a harness bull, emerging from the station, had also stopped. So he came.
The Homicide Trinity 123
At Jake's, when we had sat at a table by the wall and given our orders to the white apron, and I said I had to make a phone call, he got up and came along to the booth. Very bad manners, but I didn't correct him. I even let him stand in the door of the booth so I couldn't close it. I dialed a number and got it.
"Me. In a booth on Eighth Avenue. Theodore Weed is here at my elbow. He stopped me on the sidewalk to tell me that you and I are filthy stools because we gave the gun to the cops. When I asked him how he knew we did he said from things they asked him, which is possible since he had just come from Homicide West, probably from a session with Rowcliff, and you know Rowcliff. I'm buying him a drink, but I thought you might like to apologize to him personally for tossing our client to the wolves. He has blood in his eye."
"No. Come home at once."
"You have Saul."
"Not here. I need you. Mrs. Oliver and Mr. Perdis are in the front room. Mrs. Oliver has been here since seven o'clock. Mr. Khoury will arrive at any moment. I have been pestered by this confounded telephone all day. Mrs. Talbot called for the fifth time half an hour ago to say that she hopes to be here by ten o'clock, and it's nearly that now. On second thought, bring Mr. Weed. I have a question for him."
"You'll have to bulldog him first."
"Pfui. Bring him. How soon will you be here?"
I told him fifteen minutes, and hung up. "No time for a drink," I told Weed. "Nor for a floor show, with me on the floor. Mr. Wolfe wants me. You may came along if you care to."
"I was going there," he said grimly, "when I saw you."
"Good. But take it easy. He has a knife in his belt that he uses to stab people in the back."
On the way out I handed the white apron, whose name was Gil, a couple of ones. Outside, we flagged a taxi, and as it rolled uptown I undertook to straighten him out. "Look at it," I said. "If we're stools and selling
124 Rex Stout
her to the cops there's not much of anything you can do but shoot us, and even that wouldn't help her any. The fact is, we're with her and you're not. We know she didn't kill her husband. Either you thought she had and probably still do, or you killed him yourself. If the former, your feeling for her has got a smudge. If the latter, you did a swell job, handling it so that she gets the credit for it. Go soak your head."
"Why did you give the police the gun?"
"Soak your head some more. We're working for her, not you."
No comment until the cab was turning into 35th Street, then: "I don't think she killed him."
"Good for you. We appreciate it."
"And I didn't."
"That's not so important, but we'll keep it in mind."
At the curb in front of the old brownstone there was a black limousine with a chauffeur in it. That would be Mrs. Oliver's. Mounting the seven steps to the stoop, I used my key, but the chain bolt was on and I had to ring for Fritz. As he took Weed's coat and I disposed of mine, he said, "Thank God, Archie, thank God," and I asked him what for, and he said, "For you. It has been very bad. Three phone calls during dinner, and that woman was in the front room."
"I can imagine. How many are in there now?"
"Three. Her and two men."
So Khoury had come. I took Weed to the office. Wolfe was at his desk with a book. Weed headed for him, talking. "I want to know why-"
"Shut up!" Wolfe bellowed.
Wolfe's bellow would stop a tiger ready to spring. Weed stood and glared at him. Wolfe finished a para- graph, inserted his marker, put the book down, and issued a command. "Sit down. I prefer eyes at my level. Sit down! When you arrived at the Hazens' for dinner Monday evening were the others already there?"
"I want to know why you gave the gun-"
"Bah. Are you a jackass? You must be, to suppose you can call me to account. Sit down! You said you
The Homicide Trinity 125
would give an arm to help Mrs. Hazen. Keep your arm;
I want only some information. Must I repeat my ques- tion?"
Five of the yellow chairs were there. Weed took the nearest one. He ran his fingers through his mop of hair, but only a comb and brush could have handled it. "Mrs. Oliver was there," he said. "And Khoury. Perdis and Mrs. Talbot came soon after I did. I don't see why-"
"This is what I want to know. While you were there, was any one of them absent from the gathering long enough to go to Mr. Hazen's bedroom and back? Con- sider it. Dismiss your fatuous huff for the moment and put your mind on something pertinent."
Weed tried to. To do so he had to take his eyes from Wolfe, so he tilted his head back and looked at the ceiling. He took his time, then lowered his head. "I don't think so. I'm pretty sure none of them left the room at all, either before we went to the dining room or after. Of course they were all there when I left, so-"
The doorbell rang. I went to the hall, but Fritz was there opening the door. When the newcomer had crossed the sill I stepped back into the office and gave Wolfe a nod, and he asked, "Mrs. Talbot?"
"Yes, sir."
"Mr. Weed to the hall, then bring them in, and Mr. Weed to the front room. We may need him later."
"I'm staying right here," Weed declared, "until I-"
"You are not. I have work to do and no time to bicker with you. Out. Out!"
"But damn it-"
"Out."
Weed looked at me, standing at the door. What he met was a stony gaze. He got up and came, past me and into the hall. When he was four paces along I went and opened the door to the front room.
Chapter 9
I put Anne Talbot in the chair nearest me because from her face and the way she moved it seemed likely that she might need smelling salts any minute, and there were some in my drawer. Next to her was Jules Khoury, then Mrs. Oliver, and then Ambrose Perdis. I had expected remarks as they entered, espe- cially from Mrs. Oliver, who had been waiting more than three hours, but there hadn't been a peep from anyone. I felt like an usher at a funeral.
Wolfe took them in. "Since you are here," he said, "I assume that you are prepared to act on my proposal. Mrs. Oliver?"'
I had her in profile and couldn't see her deep-set yellow eyes, and from that angle her sagging jowl was even less attractive. She opened her bag and took out a slip of paper. "This is a cashier's check," she said, "on the Knickerbocker Trust Company for two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, made out to me. I'll endorse it. Or I won't."