Plot It Yourself

I was nervous. Fred Durkin had phoned at seven-thirty-nine to say that he was on his way to relieve Saul, and Dol Bonner was with him, and Saul should have phoned by eight-twenty to report, certainly not later than eight-thirty, and he hadn’t. He still hadn’t at eight-forty-five. If it had been Fred or Orrie I would have thought it was probably some little snag like a flat tire, but Saul has never had a flat tire and never will. At nine o’clock I was sure there was some kind of hell to pay. At nine-fifteen I was sure that Alice Porter was dead. At nine-twenty I was sure that Saul was dead too. When the phone rang at nine-twenty-five I grabbed it and barked at it, “Well?”-which is no way to answer a phone.

“Archie?”

“Yes.”

“Saul. We’ve got a circus up here.”

I was so relieved to hear that all he had was a circus that I grinned at him. “You don’t say. Did you get bit by a lion?”

“No. I got bit by a deputy sheriff and a state cop. Fred didn’t show, and at eight-fifteen I went to where my car was hid. He was there, refusing to answer questions being asked by a deputy sheriff of Putnam County. Standing by was an old friend of yours, Sergeant Purley Stebbins.”

“Oh. Ah.”

“Yeah. Stebbins told the DS that I was another one of Nero Wolfe’s operatives. That’s all Stebbins said the whole time. He was leaving it to the DS, who said plenty. Evidently Fred had shown his driving license and then clammed. I thought that was a little extreme, especially with Stebbins there, and I supplied some essential details, but that didn’t help any. The DS took both of us for trespassing and loitering, and then he added disturbing the peace. He used the radio in his car, and pretty soon a state cop came. On that dirt road it was a traffic jam. The state cop brought us to Carmel, and we are being held. This is my phone call to my lawyer. Apparently the DS is going to loiter near that house, and maybe Stebbins is too. On the way here we stopped for a couple of minutes on the blacktop where another state car was parked behind Dol Bonner’s car at the roadside. Where she had had it behind some trees I suppose she was trespassing. She and a state cop were standing there chatting. If they have brought her on to Carmel I haven’t seen her. I’m talking from a booth in the building where the sheriff’s office is. The number of the sheriff’s office is Carmel 53466.”

When Saul makes a report there is nothing left to ask about. I asked. “Have you had any breakfast?”

“Not yet. I wanted to get you first. I will now.”

“Eat plenty of meat. We’ll try to spring you by the Fourth of July. By the way, did you see Alice Porter before you left?”

“Sure. She was mowing the lawn.”

I said that was fine, hung up, sat for two minutes looking at it, went to the stairs and mounted three flights to the plant rooms, and entered. At that point there were ten thousand orchid plants between me and my goal, many of them in full bloom, and the dazzle was enough to stop anyone, even one who had seen it as often as I had, but I kept going-through the first room, the moderate, then the tropical, and then the cool-on into the potting room. Theodore was at the sink, washing pots. Wolfe was at the big bench, putting peat mixture into flasks. When he heard my step and turned, his lips tightened and his chin went up. He knew I wouldn’t mount three flights and burst in there for anything trivial.

“Relax,” I said. “She’s still alive, or was two hours ago. Mowing the lawn. But Saul and Fred are in the hoosegow, and Dol Bonner is having an affair with a state cop.”

He turned to put the flask he was holding on the bench, and turned back. “Go on.”

I did so, repeating verbatim what Saul and I had said. His chin went back to normal, but his lips stayed tight. When I finished he said, “So you regard my giving up meat as a subject for jest.”

“I do not. I was being bitter.”

“I know you. That deputy sheriff is probably an oaf. Have you phoned Mr Parker?”

“No.”

“Do so at once. Tell him to get those absurd charges dismissed if possible; if not, arrange for bail. And phone Mr Harvey or Miss Ballard or Mr Tabb that I shall be at that meeting at half past two.”

I started. “What?”

“Must I repeat it?”

“No. Do you want me along?”

“Certainly.”

I was thinking, as I returned down the aisles between the benches of orchirds and on down the stairs, that this thing was going to set a record for smashing rules before we were through with it-if we ever got through. At my desk I rang the office of Nathaniel Parker, the lawyer Wolfe always uses when only a lawyer will do, and found him in. He didn’t like the picture. He said rural communities resented having New York private detectives snooping around, especially when the snoopee was a property-owner and not a known criminal, and they weren’t fond of New York lawyers either. He thought it would be better for him to relay the job to an attorney in Carmel whom he knew, instead of going up there himself, and I told him to go ahead. Another five Cs down the drain, at least.

I started to dial Philip Harvey’s number but remembered in time that I had promised never to call him before noon except for an emergency, and dialed Jerome Tabb’s instead. A female voice told me that Mr Tabb was working and couldn’t be disturbed until one o’clock, and would I leave a message. She seemed surprised and a little indignant that there was anyone on earth who didn’t know that. I told her to tell him that Nero Wolfe would come to the council meeting at two-thirty, but, knowing that messages aren’t always delivered, I got Cora Ballard at the NAAD office. She was delighted to hear that Wolfe would be present. I made two more calls, to Orrie Cather at home and to Sally Corbett at Dol Bonner’s office, informing them about the circus and telling them the operation was off until further notice. Orrie, who was a free-lance, wanted to know if he was free to lance, and I told him no, to stand by. What the hell, another forty bucks was peanuts.