A Right to Die

I got up and went to the kitchen. It was a good thing neither of them had said yes, for Fritz was well along with the sauce, as Wolfe had known he would be. He didn't welcome my news. Not that he didn't like guests at meals, but he thought there wouldn't be enough duck. I told him it would do Wolfe good to go easy for a change, returned to the office, and found that Oster was back in the red leather chair, evidently on speaking terms, and Wolfe had a pen and pad of paper, taking notes. I interrupted to ask about drinks, got orders for a martini and a vodka on the rocks, and went to the kitchen to fill them.

Only two kinds of guests ever dine at that table: (a) men for whom Wolfe has personal feelings-there are eight altogether, and only two of them live in or near New York-and (b) people who are involved in his current problem. With both kinds he makes a point of steering the table talk to subjects that he thinks the guests will be interested in; for him, as he once remarked, a guest is a jewel on the cushion of hospitality-a little fancy maybe, but a fine sentiment. As Fritz was serving the mussels I was wondering what it would be for those two. It was William Shakespeare. After the skimpy portions of mussels, in white wine with creamed butter and flour, had been commented on, Wolfe asked them if they had read the book by Rowse. They hadn't. But they were interested in Shakespeare? Oh, yes. Not many lawyers or professors would dare to say no. Of course they were familiar with Othello? They were. I cocked an eye at Wolfe. Surely it wasn't very tactful, with those dinner guests to deliberately drag Othello in.

He swallowed his last bite of mussel. 'There's an interesting point,' he said. 'A question. If the facts were established as they are presented in the play, could Iago, today in the State of New York, be legally charged with murder as an accessory, and be successfully prosecuted?'

I had to hand it to him. Unquestionably Othello concerned a subject in which they were interested, and putting the spot on Iago and a question of law made it discussable. They discussed it up one side and down the other. By the time the duck and trimmings had been disposed of, and Fritz had brought the fig souflle, it looked to me as if Iago was on the ropes.

Fritz answers the doorbell during meals, so when it rang as I started on my souflle I stayed put. It would be Cramer. Having read the report, he had come with questions, and they were welcome, because that was better than being invited to the DA's office. But it wasn't Cramer. The sound of voices came from the hall, Fritz's and another, and then another, not recognized. They stopped. There was no use trying to hear a door closing; not only does Fritz close doors quietly, but also Oster was talking. Fritz appeared, crossed the sill, and told Wolfe, 'Two men and a woman, sir.' Formerly he would have said two gentlemen and a lady, but Wolfe had stopped that. He went on, 'Mr. and Mrs. Kenneth Brooke and Mr. Peter Vaughn. In the front room. I told them I thought you were engaged for the evening.'

Wolfe looked at me. I nodded, 'Her brother.' He told Fritz he could bring the cheese and we would have coffee there instead of in the office, and forked a bite of souffle. Oster asked, 'Susan's brother?' and I said yes. He asked Wolfe, 'You weren't expecting him?'

Wolfe swallowed the bite. 'Not him specifically. I was rather expecting someone, this evening or tomorrow. The hook I baited.' In the office he would have been smug, but not with guests, at the table. 'I need another hour or so with you and Mr. Whipple, but it will have to wait. Perhaps Mr. Goodwin could call at your office in the morning?'

'I want to sit in on this. With these people.'

'No, sir. We would probably start bickering in front of them. I'll report it to you-at my discretion.'

Fritz came with the cheese.

7

I stood in the alcove at the rear end of the hall, looking through the hole in the wall. On the alcove side it's just a hole, a rectangle with a sliding panel. On the office side it's covered by a picture of a waterfall which you can see through from the alcove. I was seeing through, for a preview of the two men and a woman whom Fritz had conducted to the office after Whipple and Oster had left. Wolfe, standing beside me, had aiready looked. Kenneth Brooke, in the red leather chair, had his head turned to face the other two, talking with them. He was chunky and solid, not slim like his sister. His wife, in the chair Paul Whipple had occupied before dinner, was a full-sized, positive blonde. I mean positive not as opposed to negative, but as opposed to vague. The other man, Peter Vaughn, of whom I had never heard, in a chair Fritz had moved up, was long and lanky, with a narrow bony face. Wolfe and I had been there, looking and listening, for six or seven minutes, but the listening hadn't helped any. They were discussing a picture on the wall back of Wolfe's desk, not the waterfall. Vaughn thought it was an unsigned Van Gogh, which it wasn't. It had been painted by a man named McIntyre whom Wolfe had once got out of a scrape.

Wolfe wiggled a finger, and I slid the noiseless panel shut. He looked a question at me, had I ever seen any of them? I shook my head, and he led the way to the office. Entering, he detoured around Brooke to his desk, and I passed behind the other two to mine. Before he sat he spoke. 'I'm sorry you had to wait. Usually I see callers only by appointment, but I make exceptions. You are Susan Brooke's brother?'

Brooke nodded. 'I am. My wife. Mr. Vaughn. Peter Vaughn. We cameuhon the spur of the moment. We appreciate-'

'That piece in the Gazette,' Mrs. Brooke said. She talked positive too. 'We think you're right. We know you're right!'

'Indeed. That's gratifying.' Wolfe moved a hand to indicate me. 'Mr. Goodwin, my confidential assistant. We are both gratified. We thought you were probably going to say we are wrong. How do you know we're right?'

They all spoke at once, or started to. Mrs. Brooke won. 'You tell us,' She said, 'how you know. Then we'll tell you.' She was making eyes at him. 'They say ladies first, but we can make exceptions too. This time gentlemen first.'

Wolfe's lips were tight. I thought he was going to cut loose, but he held it. He was almost polite. 'But madam' he said, 'consider my position. I am engaged on behalf of a man who may be put on trial for murder. He may be compelled to present his defense to a judge and jury. To disclose particulars of that defense now to you, to