He handled his climax fine, putting all his paraphernalia back in his case and shutting it before he told us, “I identify six separate prints on the box as the same as those on the records marked Michael M. Molloy. Five other prints are probably the same but I wouldn’t certify them. Some other prints may be.”
Nobody applauded. Someone sighed, tired of standing up. Parker addressed the stranger with the rimless cheaters. “That meets the provisions of the order, doesn’t it?”
“Yes,” the stranger conceded, “but I think the expert should certify it in writing.”
That started an argument. The expert was allergic to writing. He would maintain his conclusion orally, without reservation, before nine witnesses, but he wouldn’t sign a statement until he had made a prolonged study in the laboratory of his photographs and Molloy’s recorded prints, and his findings verified by a colleague. That wasn’t very logical, but they couldn’t budge him. Finally the stranger said he would stand by his concession that the oral conclusion satisfied the order, and told the MSDC officer to give Parker the box and the key-the duplicate key which had been provided by the MSDC to open the compartment the box had been in. Parker said no, give them to Mr. Degan. But before Degan got them he had to sign a receipt for them.
“All right, open it,” the Assistant DA told him.
Degan stood with a hand resting on the box and sent his quick brown eyes around the arc. “Not in public,” he said, politely but firmly. “This was Mr. Molloy’s box, and I represent his estate by a court order. If you will leave, please? Or if you prefer, I’ll take it to another room.”
Another argument, a free-for-all. They wanted to see the box opened, but in the end had to give up, when the Assistant DA reluctantly agreed with Parker that Degan’s position was legally sound. He left the room, with his bodyguard, and the fingerprint scientist followed them. The two MSDC officers didn’t like it at all, but with the law gone they had no choice, so out they went.
Degan looked at the stranger in rimless cheaters and demanded, “Well, sir?”
“I stay,” the stranger declared. “I represent the New York State Tax Commission.” He was close enough to the table to reach the box by stretching an arm.
“Death and taxes,” Parker told Degan. “The laws of nature and the laws of man. You can’t budge him. Close the door, Archie.”
“Behind you,” Degan said. He was looking at Parker. “As you go out.”
Parker smiled at him. “Oh, come. Mr. Goodwin and I are not the public. We have a status and a legitimate interest. It was through us that you got that box.”
“I know it.” Degan kept his hand on it. “But I am now legally in charge of Molloy’s estate, temporarily at least, and my only proper obligation is to the estate. You’re a lawyer, Mr. Parker, you know that. Be reasonable! What do I actually know about what Nero Wolfe is after or what you’re after? Only what you’ve told me. I don’t say that I think you already know about something that’s in this box, and that I’m afraid Goodwin will grab it and run, but I do say that it’s my responsibility to run no risk of any kind in guarding the estate, and the fact that I got the responsibility through you has nothing to do with it. Isn’t that reasonable?” It was an appeal.
“Yes,” Parker said, “it’s eminently reasonable. I can’t challenge it, and I don’t. But we’re not going to leave. We’re not going to grab anything, or even touch anything unless invited, but we’re going to see what you find in that box. If you summon help and demand that we be put out I doubt if you’ll be obeyed, under the circumstances. If we leave we all leave, and I shall go to Judge Rucker at once and complain that you refuse to open the box in the presence of the widow’s counsel. I believe he would enjoin you from opening it at all, pending a hearing.”
Degan picked up the box.
“Hold it,” I told him. I stepped and closed the door and stepped back. “Mr. Parker has covered most of the ground, but he didn’t mention what we’ll do if you try moving to another room. That’s my department. I’ll stand with my back against the door.” I moved. “Like this. I’m three inches taller than you and fifteen pounds heavier in spite of your belly, and with the box you’ll only have one hand. Of course you can try, and I promise not to hurt you. Much.”
He regarded me, not cordially, and breathed.
“This is a farce,” Parker declared. He came and joined me with his back against the door. “Now. Now or never. Go ahead and open it. If Goodwin leaps for you I’ll trip him. After all, I’m a member of the bar and an officer of the law.”
Degan was a stubborn devil. Even then he took another twenty seconds to consider the situation, after which he moved to the far end of the table, facing us at a distance of twelve feet, put the box down, and lifted the lid. The tax man moved with him and was at his elbow. The raised lid obstructed our view, and the inside was not visible, except to him and the New York State Tax Commission. They stared at it a moment, then Degan put a hand in. When he withdrew it, it held a bundle of lettuce three inches thick, fastened with rubber bands. He inspected it all over, put it on the table beside the box, inserted his hand again, and took out another bundle. And others. Eight of them altogether.
He looked at us. “By God,” he said, with a little shake in his voice, “I’m glad you fellows stayed. Come and look.”
We accepted the invitation. The box was empty. The top bills on five of the bundles were Cs, on two of them fifties, and on the other one a twenty. They were used bills, held tight and compact by the rubber bands. They wouldn’t run as healthy as new stuff, around 250 to the inch, but they were not hay.
“Quite a hoard,” Parker said. “No wonder you’re glad we stayed. If I had been here alone I would have been tempted myself.”
Degan nodded, looking dazed. “I’ll be damned. We’ll have to count it. Will you help count it?”
We obliged him. I moved the chairs up and we sat, Degan at the table end and Parker and I at either elbow, and started in. The tax man was right behind Degan’s shoulder, bending over to breathe down the back of his neck. It took a long while because Degan wanted each bundle counted by all of us, which seemed reasonable, and one of the bundles of fifties had to be gone over six times to reach agreement. When we finished each bundle was topped with a slip of paper with the amount and our initials on it. On another slip Degan listed the amounts and got a total. $327,640.00.
If you don’t believe it I’ll spell it out. Three hundred and twenty-seven thousand, six hundred and forty berries.
