Death Times Three SSC Read online

  Ordinarily Wolfe and I lunch in the dining room, but when I'm eating solo I prefer the kitchen, so I headed for it. When I was ready for coffee, I took it to the office with me.

  "I feel better," I told Wolfe. "I wish Purley were here now. How do you want it, from start to finish?"

  "No." He put his book down. "You've told me all I need to know."

  "You don't want any of it? Not even the speech I made?"

  "You can type it for the files, for posterity. As I told you, I have instructions."

  "Yeah." I sipped coffee. "But first what are we doing and why?"

  "Very well." He leaned back. "As I told you this morning, I thought I might have been hoodwinked and I intended to find out. It was quite possible that that performance here yesterday--getting us on the phone

  just in time to hear a murder committed--was flummery. Indeed, it was more than possible. Must I expound that?"

  "No. Even Cramer suspected it."

  "So he did. But his theory that Bianca Voss had been killed earlier and that another woman, not the murderer, was there beside the corpse, waiting for a phone call, was patently ridiculous. Must I expound that?"

  "No, unless it was a lunatic. Anyone who would do that, even the murderer, with the chance that someone might come in any second, would be batty."

  "Of course. But if she wasn't killed at the time we heard those sounds, she must have been killed earlier, since you phoned almost immediately and sent someone to that room. Therefore the sounds didn't come from there. Miss Gallant did not dial that number. She dialed the number of some other person whom she had persuaded to perform that hocus-pocus."

  He turned a hand over. "I had come to that conclusion, or call it conjecture, before I went to bed last night, and I had found it intolerable. I will not be mistaken for a jackass. Reading the paper at breakfast this morning, I came upon the item about the death of Sarah Yare, and my attention was caught by the fact that she had been an actress. An actress can act a part. Also she had been in distress. Also she had died. If she had been persuaded to act that part, it would have been extremely convenient--for the one who persuaded her --for her to die before she learned that a murder had been committed and that she had been an accessory after the fact. Certainly that was mere speculation, but it was not idle, and when I came down to the office I looked in the phone book to see if Sarah Yare was

  listed, found that she was, and dialed her number. Algonquin nine, one-eight-four-seven."

  "What for? She was dead."

  "I didn't lift the receiver. I merely dialed it, to hear it. Before doing so I strained my memory. I had to recall a phenomenon that was filed somewhere in my brain, having reached it through my ears. As you know, I am trained to attend, to observe and to register. So are you. That same phenomenon is filed in your brain. Close your eyes and find it. Stand up. Take your ears back to yesterday, when you were standing there, having surrendered your chair to Miss Gallant, and she was at the phone, dialing. Not the first number she dialed; you dialed that one yourself later. Concentrate on the second one, when, according to her, she was dialing the number of the direct line to Bianca Voss' office."

  I did so. I got up and stood where I had stood while she was dialing, shut my eyes and brought it back. In ten seconds I said, "O.K. Shoot."

  The sound came of his dialing. I held my breath till the end, then opened my eyes and said positively, "No. Wrong. The first and third and fourth were wrong. I'm not sure about the second, but those three "

  "Close your eyes and try it again. This will be another number."

  The dialing sound came, the seven units. I opened my eyes. "That's more like it. I would say that was it; anyway the first four. Beyond that, I'm a little lost. But in that case--"

  "Satisfactory." He pushed the phone away and sat back. "The first four were enough. The first number, which you rejected, as I did this morning, was Plaza two, nine-oh-two-two, the number of Bianca Voss' direct line according to the phone book--the number which Miss Gallant pretended to be dialing. The sec

  ond, which you accepted, was Sarah Yare's number, Algonquin nine, one-eight-four-seven."

  "I see." I sat down and took a gulp of coffee, which had cooled enough for gulping. "Quite a performance."

  He didn't acknowledge the applause. "So it was still a plausible conjecture, somewhat strengthened, but no more than that. If those people, especially Miss Gallant, could not be shown to have had some association with Sarah Yare, it would be untenable. So I sent you to inquire, and what you found promoted the conjecture to an assumption, and surely a weighty one. What time is it?"

  He would have had to twist his neck a whole quarter turn to look at the wall clock. I obliged. "Five to four."

  "Then instructions for your errand must be brief, and they can be." He mustn't be late for his afternoon session in the plant rooms. "You will go to Sarah Yare's address on Thirteenth Street and look at her apartment. Her phone might have been discontinued since that book was issued. I need to know that the instrument is still there and operable before I proceed. If I intend to see that whoever tried to make a fool of me regrets it, I must take care not to make a fool of myself." He pushed his chair back, gripped the arms and hoisted his bulk. "Have I satisfied you?"

  I drank the last of the coffee, now cold, then went to the hall for my coat and hat, and departed.

  It was not my day. At the address of the late Sarah Yare on East 13th Street I stubbed my toe again. I was dead wrong about the janitor of that old walk-up. He looked as if anything would go, so I merely told him to let me into Sarah Yare's apartment to check the tele

  phone, and the bum insisted on seeing my credentials. So I misjudged him again. I offered him a sawbuck and told him I only wanted two minutes for a look at the phone with him at my elbow, and he turned me down. The upshot was that I went back home for an assortment of keys, returned, posted myself across the street, waited a full hour to be sure the enemy was not peeking, and broke and entered, technically.

  I won't describe it; it was too painful. It was an awful dump for a Sarah Yare--even for a down-andouter who had once been Sarah Yare. But the telephone was there, and it was working. I dialed to make sure, and got Fritz, and told him I just wanted to say hello and would be home in fifteen minutes, and he said that would please Mr. Wolfe because Inspector Cramer was there.

  "Is Stebbins with him?"

  "No, he's alone."

  "When did he come?"

  "Ten minutes ago. At six o'clock. Mr. Wolfe said to admit him and is with him in the office. Their voices are very loud. Hurry home, Archie."

  I did so. Ascending the stoop and letting myself in, not banging the door, I tiptoed down the hall and stopped short of the office door, thinking to get a sniff of the atmosphere before entering.

  Wolfe's voice came: ". . . and I didn't say I have never known you to be right, Mr. Cramer. I said I have never known you to be more wrong. That is putting it charitably, under provocation. You have accused me of duplicity. Pfui! "

  "Nuts." Cramer had worked up to his grittiest rasp. "I have accused you of nothing. I have merely stated

  facts. The time of the murder was supposed to be established by you and Goodwin hearing it on the phone. Is that a fact? Those five people all have alibis for that time. One of them was here with you. Is that a fact? When I put it to you yesterday that that phone business might have been faked, that she might have been killed earlier, all I got was a run-around. You could challenge it circumstantially, but not intrinsically-whatever that means. Is that a fact? So that if you and Goodwin got to the witness stand you might both swear that you were absolutely satisfied that you had heard her get it at exactly half past eleven. Is that a fact? Giving me to understand that you weren't interested, you weren't concerned, you had no

  "No," Wolfe objected. "That was broached."

  "You said you had never had any association with any of those people besides what was in your statement, so how could you be concerned, with Bianca Voss dead? T
ell me this: did any of them approach you, directly or indirectly, between seven o'clock yesterday and noon today?"

  "NO.

  "But--" He bore down on the "but." "But you sent Goodwin there today. And when Stebbins ran into him and asked him what he was there for, he said he was on a fishing trip. And they all refuse to tell what Goodwin said to them or what they said to him. That is a fact. They say it was a private matter and had no connection with the murder of Bianca Voss. And when I come and ask you what you sent Goodwin there for, you say you will probably be ready to tell me within twenty-four hours. And what I said was absolutely justified. I did not accuse you of duplicity. You know what I said."

  "I do indeed, Mr. Cramer." I couldn't see Wolfe, but I knew he had upturned a palm. "This is childish and

  futile. If a connection is established between your murder investigation and the topic of Mr. Goodwin's talks with those people today it will be only because I formed a conjecture and acted on it. I hope to establish it within twenty-four hours, and meanwhile it will do no harm to give you a hint. Have you any information on the death of a woman named Sarah Yare?

  A pause. Cramer was certainly interrupting his glare to blink. "Why?" he demanded.

  "I merely put the question.

  "All right, I'll answer it. I have some--yes. Presumed a suicide, but it's being checked. I have two men on it. What about it?"

  "I suggest that you assign more men to it, good ones, and explore it thoroughly. I think we shall both find it helpful. I may soon have a more concrete suggestion, but for the present that should serve. You know quite well "

  The doorbell rang. I wheeled and looked through the one-way glass pane of the front door. It wasn't a visitor on the stoop, it was a mob. All of them were there: Gallant, Flora, Anita Prince, Emmy Thorne and Carl Drew. Fritz appeared from the kitchen, saw me and stopped. I got my notebook and pen from pockets and wrote:

  That phone works.

  The five subjects are at the door.

  I told Fritz to stand by, tore out the sheet, entered the office and crossed to Wolfe's desk, and handed it to him*

  Wolfe read it, frowned at it for three seconds, turned his head and called "Fritz!"

  He appeared at the door. "Yes, sir?"

  "Put the chain bolt on and tell those people they will be admitted shortly. Stay there."

  "Yes, sir." He went.

  Wolfe looked at Cramer. "Mr. Gallant, his sister, Miss Prince, Miss Thorne and Mr. Drew have arrived, uninvited and unexpected. You'll have to leave without being seen. In the front room until they have entered. I'll communicate with you later."

  "Like hell I'll leave." Cramer was on his feet. "Like hell they're unexpected." He was moving toward the hall, his intention plain--taking over as receptionist.

  "Mr. Cramer!" It snapped at his back, turning him. "Would I lie so clumsily if they had been expected, would I have let you in? Would I have sat here bickering with you? Either you leave or I do. If you admit them, you'll have them to yourself, and I wish you luck."

  Cramer's jaw was clamped. "You think I'm going to sneak out and sit on your stoop until you whistle?"

  "That would be unseemly," Wolfe conceded. "Very well." He pointed at a picture on the wall to his left behind him--a pretty waterfall. "You know about that. You may take that station, but only if you engage not to disclose yourself unless you are invited. Unequivocally."

  The waterfall covered a hole in the wall. On the other side, in a wing of the hall across from the kitchen, the hole was covered by nothing, and you could not only see through but also hear through. Cramer had used it once before, a couple of years ago.

  He stood, considering, his jaw clamped again. Wolfe demanded, "Well? They're waiting. For you or for me?"

  Cramer said, "O.K., I'll try it your way," turned and marched to the hall, and turned left.

  "All right, Archie. Bring them in."

  While I was in the hall, admitting the guests and helping with coats, Fritz was in the office moving chairs, and when we entered, there was a row of them lined up facing Wolfe's desk. And then, when I had pronounced their names and Wolfe had acknowledged each one by inclining his head an eighth of an inch, Flora wouldn't accept my idea of the proper seating arrangement. I thought it would be desirable to have her handy, in the chair nearest me--for professional reasons, not personal ones--but she didn't agree. She took the one at the other end of the row, farthest from me, presumably because it was near her brother in the red leather chair beyond the end of Wolfe's desk. Next to her was Carl Drew, then Anita Prince, then Emmy Thorne at my end.

  When they were all seated, including me, Wolfe turned to Gallant. "I presume, sir, you are the spokesman?"

  "I speak for us, yes, but it is enough that I speak for myself. I want to know why you sent a man to ask me questions about Sarah Yare."

  Wolfe nodded. "Of course. Naturally your curiosity was aroused. But evidently you have been provoked to more than curiosity; you have been impelled to call on me in a body; so I want to know something too. Why were Mr. Goodwin's questions so provocative?"

  "Pah!" Gallant hit a chair arm with a fist. "I answered his question; you can answer mine! I have asked it!

  Anita Prince put in, "We came because we think it

  is important, but we don't know why. The police insist on knowing why Mr. Goodwin was there, what he wanted."

  "And you refused to say. Only because Mr. Goodwin advised you to?"

  "No," Emmy Thorne declared. "Because it was none of their business. And we have a right to know why you sent him, whether his questions were provocative or not." That girl was strong on rights.

  Wolfe's eyes went from right to left and back again. "There's no point in dragging this out. I sent Mr. Goodwin to see you because I suspected I had been gulled and wanted to find out; and further, because I had guessed that there was a connection between Sarah Yare and her death, and the murder of Bianca Voss. By coming where en masse, you have made that guess a conviction, if any doubt had remained."

  "I knew it," Flora mumbled. She looked at her brother. "I knew it! That was why--"

  "Tais toi," Gallant commanded her. He jerked back to Wolfe: "I'll tell you why we came here. We came for an explanation. We came--"

  Carl Drew put in, "For an understanding," he declared. "We're in trouble, all of us, you know that, and we need your help, and we're ready to pay for it. First we have to know what the connection is between Sarah Yare and what happened to Bianca Voss."

  Wolfe shook his head. "You don't mean that. You mean you have to know whether I have established the connection, and if so, how. I'm prepared to tell you, but before I do so I must clarify matters. There must be no misunderstanding. For instance, I understand that all of you thought yourselves gravely endangered by Miss Voss' presence. You, Miss Prince; you, Miss Thorne; and you, Mr. Drew--your dearest ambitions were

  threatened. Your future was committed to the success and glory of that enterprise, and you were convinced that Miss Voss was going to cheapen it, and perhaps destroy it. Do you challenge that?"

  "Of course not." Emmy Thorne was scornful. "Everybody knew it."

  "Then that's understood. . . That applied equally to you, Miss Gallant, but with special emphasis. You also had a more intimate concern, for your brother. You told me so...As for you, Mr. Gallant, you are manifestly not a man to truckle, yet you let that woman meddle in your affairs. Presumably you were under severe constraint. Were you?"

  Gallant opened his mouth and closed it. He looked at his sister, returned to Wolfe, and again opened his mouth and closed it. He was under constraint now, no doubt about that.

  He forced it out, "Yes. I was under her heel." He set his jaw. He unset it. "The police know. They found out enough, and I have told them the rest. She was a bad woman, though I didn't know it until too late. I met her in France during the war. We were in the Resistance together when I married her. Only afterwards I learned that she was perfide. She had been a traitor to France; I couldn't prove it, but I
knew it. I left her and changed my name and came to America--and then last year she found me and made demands. I was under her heel."

  Wolfe grunted. "That won't do, Mr. Gallant. I doubt if it has satisfied the police, and it certainly doesn't satisfy me. In this situation you might have killed her, but surely you wouldn't have let her take charge of your business and your life. What else was there?"

  "Nothing. Nothing!"

  "Pfui. Of course there was. And if the investigation

  is prolonged, the police will discover it. I advise you to disclose it and let me get on and settle this affair. Didn't her death remove her heel?"

  "Yes. Thank God, it did. And I am not blind; I can see that that points at me." Gallant hit the arms of the chair with his palms. "But she is gone and I can tell you. With her gone, there is no evidence to fear. She had two brothers, and they, like her, were traitors, and I killed them. I would have killed her, too, but she escaped me. During the war it would have been merely an episode, but it was later, much later, when I found out about them, and by then it was a crime. With her evidence I was an assassin, and I was doomed. Now she is gone, thank God, but I did not kill her. You know I did not. At half past eleven yesterday morning I was in my workshop with Miss Prince and many others, and you can swear that she was killed at that moment. That is why we came to see you, to arrange to pay--"