Rex Stout

Homicide Trinity

EENY MEENY MURDER MO

Chapter 1

I was standing there in the office with my hands in my pockets, glaring down at the necktie on Nero Wolfe's desk, when the doorbell rang.

Since it would be a different story, and possibly no story at all, if the necktie hadn't been there, I had better explain about it. It was the one Wolfe had worn that morning-brown silk with little yellow curlicues, A Christmas gift from a former client. At lunch Fritz, coming to remove the leavings of the spareribs and bring the salad and cheese, had told Wolfe there was a drop of sauce on his tie, and Wolfe had dabbed at it with his napkin; and later, when we had left the dining room to cross the hall to the office, he had removed the tie and put it on his desk. He can't stand a spot on his clothes, even in private. But he hadn't thought it worth the effort to go up to his room for another one, since no callers were expected, and when four o'clock came and he left for his afternoon session with the orchids in the plant rooms on the roof, his shirt was still unbuttoned at the neck and the tie was still on his desk.

It annoyed me. It annoyed Fritz too when, shortly after four, he came to say he was going shopping and would be gone two hours. His eye caught the tie and fastened on it. His brows went up.

'Schlampick,' I said.

He nodded. 'You know my respect and esteem for him. He has great spirit and character, and of course he is a great detective, but there is a limit to the duties of a chef and housekeeper. One must draw the line some- where. Besides, there is my arthritis. You haven't got arthritis, Archie.'

'Maybe not,' I conceded, 'but if you rate a limit so do I. My list of functions from confidential assistant detec- tive down to errand boy is a mile long, but it does not include valeting. Arthritis is beside the point. Consider the dignity of man. He could have taken it on his way up to the plant rooms.'

'You could put it in a drawer.'

'That would be evading the issue.'

'I suppose so.' He nodded. 'I agree. It is a delicate affair. I must be going.' He went.

So, having finished the office chores at 5:20, including a couple of personal phone calls, I had left my desk and was standing to glare down at the necktie when the doorbell rang. That made the affair even more delicate. A necktie with a greasy spot should not be on the desk of a man of great spirit and character when a visitor enters. But by then I had got stubborn about it as a matter of principle, and anyway it might be merely someone with a parcel. Going to the hall for a look, I saw through the one-way glass panel of the front door that it was a stranger, a middle-aged female with a pointed nose and a round chin, not a good design, in a sensible gray coat and a black turban. She had no parcel. I went and opened the door and told her good afternoon. She said she wanted to see Nero Wolfe. I said Mr. Wolfe was engaged, and besides, he saw people only by appoint- ment. She said she knew that, but this was urgent. She had to see him and would wait till he was free.

There were several factors: that we had nothing on the fire at the moment; that the year was only five days old and therefore the income-tax bracket didn't enter

into it; that I wanted something to do besides recording the vital statistics of orchids; that I was annoyed at him for leaving the tie on his desk; and that she didn't try to push but kept her distance, with her dark eyes, good eyes, straight at me.

'Okay,' I told her, 'I'll see what I can do,' and stepped aside for her to enter. After taking her coat and hanging it on the rack and escorting her to the office, I gave her one of the yellow chairs near me instead of the red leather one at the end ofWolfe's desk. She sat with her back straight and her feet together-nice little feet in fairly sensible gray shoes. I told her that Wolfe wouldn't be available until six o'clock.

'It will be better,' I said, 'if I see him first and tell him about you. In fact, it will be essential. My name is Archie Goodwin. What is yours?'

'I know about you,' she said. 'Of course. If I didn't I wouldn't be here.'

'Many thanks. Some people who know about me have a different reaction. And your name?'

She was eyeing me. 'I'd rather not,' she said, 'until I know if Mr. Wolfe will take my case. It's private. It's very confidential.'

I shook my head. 'No go. You'll have to tell him what your case is before he decides if he'll take it, and I'll be sitting here listening. So? Also I'll have to tell him more about you than you're thirty-five years old, weigh a hundred and twenty pounds, and wear no earrings, before he decides if he'll even see you.'

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