Death Times Three SSC Read online

  "That's three miles. Quite a walk."

  "I often walk it. It's good exercise and it saves bus fare."

  "Anyone with you?"

  "No."

  Purley's head turned. "And you, sir?"

  Raymond Dell passed a hand over his white mane

  and cleared his throat. "I answer under protest," he declared. "You deliberately left me to the last. I submit only to hasten your departure. My name is Raymond Dell. It is not entirely unknown. I have lived here four years. I am not engaged at present."

  "You're an actor, Mr. Dell?"

  His deep-set blue-gray eyes darted right and left. "Am I an actor?" he demanded.

  They nodded. Ferris said, "You certainly are." "Where were you at eleven o'clock this morning. "I was eating an orange."

  "Where?"

  "In my room, which is above our heads. I never

  leave the house before noon. I was reading Sophocles'

  Oedipus Rex. I always read Sophocles in January." "Were you alone?"

  "Certainly!"

  Stebbins' head turned right and then left. "Five of you. Are there any others? Any other tenants?" Tammy Baxter said no.

  "Have there been any others recently? In the last two weeks?"

  Another no.

  "Do any of you know of any enemies Hattie Annis had? Anyone who might--where you going?"

  That was for me. I was up and moving. I turned to tell him, "To the parlor for something, whistle if you want me," and proceeded. I did stop in the parlor, for my coat and hat. Opening the front door, and closing it after me, I made no unnecessary noise, not wanting to disturb a police officer in the performance of his duties. The snow was coming down thicker and the street was white. I was not actually deserting the field of action; it was merely that I had looked at my watch and seen ten minutes past six. Wolfe would be down from the plant rooms, and he would enjoy his beer more if I rang him to say I was being delayed on my errand. Ninth Avenue was closer than Eighth, so I went that way, found a booth in a bar and grill, contributed a dime, and dialed. And got a surprise. Ordinarily Fritz answers the phone when I'm not there, but it was Wolfe's voice.

  "Nero Wolfe's residence."

  "Me. I'm stuck with--"

  "Where are you?"

  "Forty-seventh Street. I'll be

  "How long will it take you to get here?" "Seventeen minutes. Why?"

  "There's a man in the front room. Fritz let him in out of the snow. Come at once."

  It wasn't quite as childish as it sounds. An experience a couple of years back had shown that it was just as well for me to be present when Wolfe talked with a stranger. But I ventured to ask, "What's his name?"

  "Leach. He showed Fritz his credentials. From the Secret Service Division of the Treasury Department."

  "Well. What do you know. I'm on my way." I hung up, having certainly got my dime's worth. A T-man.

  III

  Headed downtown on the crawling bus, I reflected that there was one nice thing, thought only one: I hadn't left the package under the couch in the front room. If what I had heard of T-men was only half true, he would have smelled it. Except for that it was a very foggy prospect. Guessing wouldn't help any, but there was nothing else to do in the bus, so I considered a dozen guesses and didn't like any of them. Dismounting at 34th Street and walking the block and a half to the brownstone, I let myself in, put my coat and hat on the rack, and went to the office. Wolfe was standing over by the big globe, studying it, probably picking out a spot for me to be exiled to. He darted a glance at me, grunted, and went back to the globe.

  I spoke. "Did he ask for you or me?"

  "Both. See what he wants."

  Instead of using the connecting door I went around by the hall and entered from there. He got up from a chair by the window as I appeared--a medium-sized round-shouldered guy who had started going bald. "I'm Archie Goodwin," I said. "Keep your seat." I went to the couch and sat. "Sorry you had to wait."

  He took a leather fold from his pocket, flipped it open, and came and held it out for inspection. I gave it a look. His first name was Albert. I nodded. "Right. What can I do for my country?"

  "I want to speak with you and Wolfe," he said. "Both of you."

  "You can start with me. Mr. Wolfe is busy."

  "I'll wait till he's free." He went to the chair and sat.

  "It could be an hour. Meanwhile, here we are, and we might as well chat."

  "No. I'll wait. You can tell Wolfe that I am acquainted with his methods and I don't approve of them."

  He was the final type. He talked final, looked final, and acted final. If I had told him that Wolfe wouldn't be free until tomorrow afternoon he would have said, "I'll wait." So I said, "Then he'll have to change them. You should have let him know before. I'll go tell him." I went around by the hall again, found Wolfe still studying the globe, and announced, "He's a mule. Only both of us will do. There are just three alternatives: bounce him, bring him in, or lock him in until he gets hungry enough to leave by a window. He doesn't approve of your methods."

  "What does he want?"

  "Nothing doing. He's not very big. Bouncing him would be easy."

  "Confound it. Bring him in."

  I went and opened the connecting door and called to him, "You win, Leach. This way." He came, passing through, stopped in the center of the room to look right and left, went to the red leather chair near the end of Wolfe's desk, and sat. Wolfe, in no hurry, gave the globe another glance and then moved, detouring around the guest to get to his chair. As I was going to mine Leach spoke:

  "If you're busy, Wolfe, it will save time to tell you that the Secret Service Division of the Treasury Department is not the same as the New York Police Department. I know your record and your reputation. We don't like fancy tricks and it doesn't pay to play games with us. I want to make that clear."

  A corner of Wolfe's mouth twitched. "Your notebook, Archie. Get that down. If you will please repeat it, sir?"

  It didn't faze him. "It was fair and proper to say it," he stated. "I was referring to your well-known habit of withholding information from the police which they are legally entitled to have. Their reasons for not calling you to account may be sound; I'm not criticizing them. But we will not tolerate any such defiance of your obligations under Federal law."

  "Archie?"

  "Yes, sir." I had my notebook and pen. "I'm getting

  "Is this gratuitous, Mr. Leach? Or have you a point?"

  "I have a point. I have reason to believe that you are in possession of information regarding a counterfeiting operation--counterfeiting of United States currency. You got the information from a Miss Hattie Annis this morning. I want to know what she told you -everything she told you. I also ask if she showed you any counterfeit money. I also ask if she left any counterfeit money with you, and if so, where is it? I also ask why you have not notified the authorities during the seven hours that have passed since she was here."

  The corner of Wolfe's mouth twitched again. "I'm afraid your homily and warning were wasted, Mr. Leach. I have never seen a Miss Hattie Annis. Mr. Goodwin told me this morning that a woman of that name was to call to see me at eleven-fifteen o'clock, but she didn't come. Archie?"

  "She came at a quarter to ten," I told the mule, "just as I was leaving on an errand. She didn't enter the house. She told me her name and said she wanted to see Nero Wolfe, that she had something in her handbag for which there would be a reward and she would split it with him. She wouldn't tell me what it was. She said if she took it to the cops they would do the splitting. I told her to come back at a quarter past eleven and I would try to persuade Mr. Wolfe to see her. She said nothing about counterfeiting and she showed me no counterfeit money. She left, and I went on my errand, depositing a check, not counterfeit, at the bank. When Mr. Wolfe came to the office I told him about her and he said he would see her, but she never came. However, that was not the last I heard of her. I learned this afternoon that a woman of that name had been killed by a hit
-and-run driver around the corner from here, on Tenth Avenue."

  "How did you learn it?"

  There was no telling how many sources the Secret Service had around town, so I abandoned the cop on the beat. "From a friend of mine on a newspaper. When she didn't show I wondered if something had happened to her, and I phoned him."

  "She's dead," he said. "We can't ask her what she told you."

  "That's right. I could be lying to Yonkers and back, but I'm not. I only lie to cops and women. I wouldn't dream of lying to you."

  "I wouldn't advise you to. You just came in. Were you out on another errand?"

  "Yes."

  "What?"

  The natural thing would have been to say it was none of his business. But apparently they had tailed Hattie Annis to Wolfe's place, and if so, they might , have tailed me to 47th Street, and I was being frank and open. So I said, "Looking into possibilities. Hattie Annis had said she had something that was good for a reward. It could have been something really worthwhile; you never know. And she had been killed. It wouldn't hurt to poke around a little, and I went up to her house on Forty-seventh Street to see if I could stir up something. I had barely got started when a Homicide sergeant came and took over. I beat it and came home--and found you."

  "You admit that she said she was in possession of something that was good for a reward."

  "I state it."

  "But you deny that she told you it was counterfeit money?"

  180 Rex Stout "I do."

  "Do you deny that from what she said you inferred it was counterfeit money?"

  "I do. On my way from the bank I decided it was the Hope diamond."

  'Why?

  "Because I knew you'd be asking and I thought that would be an interesting twist. You would be thinking she had counterfeits, but the point was that she had the real thing. The counterfeit was in the Smithsonian Institution."

  I don't expect you to believe it, but he actually said, "So you admit that you knew we would be asking?"

  "By gum," I said, "I guess you've got me. I wonder how I knew?"

  Wolfe grunted. "Archie. If you must chaff him, take him somewhere else."

  Leach got up. "I'll do the taking. If you're telling the truth, both of you, all right. If not, you'll regret it." He turned and went. I arose and stepped to the hall and offered to hold his coat, but he preferred to do it himself.

  As I reentered the office Wolfe demanded, "Was that where you were? That woman's house?"

  "Yes, sir." I went to my desk and sat. "I wouldn't lie to a T-man. Too risky."

  "And a policeman came?"

  "Yes, sir. Stebbins."

  "You have a remarkable talent for getting involved to no purpose. You know quite well how Mr. Cramer will react when he learns that Mr. Stebbins, investigating a death by violence, found you there ahead of him."

  "Yeah. That's the least of my worries. I've got a problem. I'll have to take a week off--of course without pay--while I work it out. Beginning now."

  "Pfui." His eyes narrowed. "What are you trying to badger me into?"

  "No, sir. It's my problem. You wouldn't be interested.""What

  is it?"

  "Well." I considered. "Since I got it on your premises while in your employ I suppose you have a right to know. I have to figure out what to do with nine thousand dollars in counterfeit money that's upstairs in my room."

  He snorted. "The Hope diamond, too, of course."

  "No, this is straight. Everything I told Leach was true, but I didn't mention that Hattie Annis gave me a package to keep until she returned. She told me not to open it and I didn't, until I learned that she had been killed. Then I took a look. About nine thousand bucks in phony twenty-dollar bills, brand new. They're pretty good; I had to use a glass on them to be sure. I took them up and put them in my shirt drawer. Then I went up to her house to see if I could spot a counterfeiter, and got interrupted by Stebbins."

  "Why didn't you mention it to that donkey? And give him the package?"

  I eyed him. "Do you really want me to answer that?"

  He pulled at the tip of his ear. "No."

  "I should hope not. That specimen? If I had given him the package and told him I didn't know what was in it he wouldn't have believed me. He would have taken both of us on a charge of possession. It's a good guess that they had a tail on her, or how did he know she came here? If so, it's barely possible the tail saw her hand me the package, and he'll be back with reinforcements and a search warrant. I'm going to get it

  out of the house, right now, and I'm going to leave the back way."

  "Do so. At once. Don't mail it to him or his organization. Mail it to the police."

  "No, sir. As I said, I'm taking a week off. I hope a week will do it."

  "Nonsense." He glared. "I am instructing you to mail it. Without delay."

  "Sorry." I stood up. "It's my problem. First I'll take the package somewhere and come back later for some things. I'll let you know where you can reach me." I moved.

  "Archie!"

  I turned. "Yes, sir?"

  "This is not to be borne. If you go, stay."

  I stood facing him. "Okay. I'll bang the door when I leave, since I'm fired. But I'd like to describe the situation, not that you give a damn, just for the record. Hattie Annis may have got killed just because she happened to be there when a baboon came along in a stolen car, but she may not. I think not, for fairly good reasons. If it was deliberate, it's a good guess that she got it because she knew where that counterfeit money came from, so it will be essential evidence if and when he is tagged. Not only will it have to be produced; it will have to be shown that she had it. If I ditch it by mailing it to the police or the Secret Service, no matter who, so it can't be traced, it can't be connected with her and he can't be nailed. That's my problem. She left the package with me. If she was murdered on account of it, I don't owe the murderer any favors and I'm not going to do him one."

  I turned and marched out, chin up, with my ego patting me on the back, and mounted the stairs to my room. Getting the package from the drawer, touching

  nothing but the string, I went back down to the hall for my coat and hat, and, after I had my gloves on, stuck the package in my pocket. As I neared the office door on my way to the kitchen Wolfe's voice came:

  "Archie!"

  I stuck my head in. "Yes, sir?"

  "You will dine here?"

  "No. Fire me and feed me? Better not. I'll come and get some clothes and things."

  "Very well."

  I admit that as I passed through the kitchen and saw Fritz at the range basting two tender young pheasants in the roaster I felt a twinge. I also admit that as I let myself out, crossed the little enclosed space where Fritz grew herbs in the season, and unlocked the gate, I felt another twinge of a different kind. It was just possible that the Treasury Department knew of this back way and had it covered, and missing the pheasant would be the least of my troubles if I got nabbed with that package on me. The passage between two buildings was narrow and dark, and eddies of snow were whirling down. Emerging to the sidewalk on 34th Street, I turned left.

  Making sure you are unattended is never difficult, and on a snowy blowy night there's nothing to it. Turning three corners was enough, and I leaned into the wind and forgot the rear. But at the entrance to Grand Central Station I stood a couple of minutes with my eyes open before going to the ramp and on down to a bank of lockers. Five seconds later, minus a dime and the package and plus a key, I proceeded to the tunnel to 45th Street, climbed the stairs, and was in the snow again for six blocks. The clerk at the Churchill wouldn't admit he had a room, so I went to the manager's office and asked for a man I don't need to name for whom I

  had once done an important favor. He came through, both with a room and with an envelope. I wrote on the envelope, "Property of Archie Goodwin, to be delivered only to him in person," put the key in it and sealed it, and left it with the assistant manager. I then went down to the Tulip Bar, having in mind a m
odest snack in the neighborhood of three bucks, and saw on the menu "Supreme of Pheasant Berchoux $9.00." Of course I had to, though Berchoux was a complete stranger. It turned out to be okay, but the sauce wasn't up to Fritz's by a long shot.

  If I have given the impression that I not only knew what I was doing but also what I was going to do, kindly erase it. Now that my immediate objective, getting the package properly cached, was accomplished, I could proceed as I saw fit, but what would fit? No matter which direction I headed I would find both the T-men and the cops already there, jostling each other, and there was no point in getting my toes trampled. By the time the waiter brought pecan sour cream pie and coffee I had my program all planned: ring a friend to suggest a couple of hours' dancing at the Flamingo, go to 35th Street and pack a suitcase and bring it to the hotel, keep the dancing date, take the friend home and discuss with her whatever she felt like discussing, return to the hotel, sleep nine hours, get up and have breakfast, go for a walk, and drop in on Lon Cohen at the Gazette and get the latest dope on Hattie Annis. That struck me as a fine combination of initiative, snap, and staying power.