he more interested in my talk with Tammy Baxter only an hour or so before she was murdered? Because he already knew about it from Leach.'
'Then she had been posted in that house by the Secret Service?'
'Sure. A good guess is that they knew someone who lived there had passed bad money. I doubt if they knew
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which one, because if so they know who killed Tammy Baxter, and I don't think they would dare not to tell Cramer-but it's possible. Their big play isn't for the passers, it's for the plant. Four, one of the four roomers is it, on account of the knife. It came from that kitchen. Raymond Dell, Noel Ferris, Paul Hannah, Martha Kirk. If one or more of them have been crossed off by alibis that would narrow it. Five, if Hattie Annis is your client you probably want to speak to Parker, since you are against leaving a client in the coop. I'll ring him.'
'I haven't told you to.'
'Do you tell me not to?'
He tightened his lips. He took a deep breath. 'Con- found you. Call him.'
'Right. But first one more. Six, I see no reason why I shouldn't try the package for prints, since it hasn't occurred to us that the bills may be phony. I'm assum- ing that you don't intend to let loose of your client's property unless a court orders you to.'
'Certainly not. But there will be other prints than yours. Hers.'
'I've got hers.'
'You have.'
'Yes, sir. In case.'
'So.' He got off the stool. 'So you make the decisions. Let me know if you wish to confer. Go.'
I went. It isn't easy to pass down the aisles of those three rooms without stopping, even in an emergency, but that time I stopped only once, where a group of Miltonia roezlis were sporting more than fifty racemes on four feet of bench. It was the best crop of Miltonias Wolfe (and Theodore) had ever had. The display is always harder to believe when snow is dancing on the sloping glass overhead.
Since it was after office hours I dialed the home number of Nathaniel Parker, the lawyer, got him, put him through to Wolfe, and listened in, as I am supposed to when not told to get off. He was a little doubtful about springing our client before morning, since they had had to smash a door to get to her and she wasn't
178 Rex Stout
talking, but he said he would get on it immediately and do his best. That done, I went to the safe and got the wrapping paper and bills.
It was a two-hour job, and I took an hour out for dinner, so it was after nine o'clock when I finished. It took so long because (a) wrapping paper is a mean surface to lift prints from, (b) I had to check and double- check every print with Hattie's and mine, and (c) I had to be darned careful to leave the evidence intact if there was any there. During the last hour, after dinner, Wolfe was there at his desk in the only chair he really likes, reading his current book. Now and then he shot me a glance, of course hoping that I would announce that we had him, and his job would be simple. But at a quarter past nine I swiveled and spoke. 'No. Positively. Seven good prints, twelve fair ones, and fourteen smudges. The only ones that can be identified are Hattie's and mine. Either he never handled it without gloves or he wiped it.'
I'll say this for him, he never asks silly questions like Are you sure, or Have you tried the bills too. He merely growled, 'It was too much to expect.' He picked up his bookmark, a thin strip of gold that had been given him by a client in spite of the size of his bill, inserted it, and put the book down. 'What do you suggest?'
Ignoring the sarcasm, I took the bills and wrapping paper, still handling them with care, and went to the safe and put them in. 'Now,' I said, returning, 'it will take a brain, and you know where one is. I only run errands. I know you never leave the house on business, but if you-'
The doorbell rang. I offered myself three to one that it was Cramer, probably with Leach for company, stepped to the hall, and flipped the switch for the stoop light. It had been a bad bet. I stepped back in and told Wolfe, 'All four of them. Dell, Ferris, Hannah, and Martha Kirk.'
He glared at me. 'You invited them?'
'No, sir. It's a surprise party. People have no consid- eration. They might at least have phoned.'
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'It's impossible! I'm not ready. I haven't prepared my mind.' He ran his fingers through his hair. 'It's impossible. Bring them in.'
I went to the front and opened the door, and invited them to enter. Martha Kirk, first in, did not curtsy, and Raymond Dell didn't bow. When I turned after shut- ting the door she was sitting on the bench pulling off her galoshes and the men were removing their coats. 'Have you written your piece?' Dell demanded.
That had been so long ago, eight whole hours, that for a second I didn't get him. 'Oh,' I said. 'I had forgotten I was doing one. I got interrupted.'
'We want to see Nero Wolfe,' Martha Kirk said. 'And you.'
'Then you might as well have us together. This way.' I went to the office door and stood aside, and they filed in. Wolfe arose, inclined his head an eighth of an inch as I pronounced each name, and sat. He never shakes hands with strangers. I was going to put Martha Kirk in the red leather chair, but Dell beat us to it, so I moved up a yellow one for her, next to me, and Ferris and Hannah moved their own, beyond her. Wolfe's eyes went from left to right and back again.
