Her lips were tight. She was probably frowning, but the beak of her cap screened her brow. 'I guess so.' She wasn't at all sure. 'But maybe--if that's how you feel--maybe it would be better just to'
Method Three for Murder 67
'No. It's better like this. Much better. About this situation your friend thought up and claims she won the bet, it has many aspects. You say you didn't know enough about what you're supposed to do when you find a dead body. First and foremost, you're supposed to notify the police immediately. That goes for everybody, but it's a must for a private detective--me, for instance--if he wants to keep his license. Is that clear?'
'Yes.' She nodded. 'I see.'
'Also you're not supposed to touch the body or anything near it. Also you're not supposed to leave it unguarded, but that's not so important because you may have to in order to call a cop. As for your idea that all she has to do is get the body out of the cab, and where would she go to ditch it, and would she have to wait until late at night, and so on, I admit it has possibilities and I could make a lot of practical suggestions. But you have to show that it could be done without danger, and that's too big an order. That's what licks you. Forget it. However, your friend hasn't won the bet. She was to produce a situation showing that a woman cab driver runs special risks as a hackie, and in this case the danger comes from the fact that she was not driving the cab. So your friend-'
'That's no help. You know very well--'
'Shut up. I beg your pardon.'
Her fingers were curled into fists again. 'You said you could make some practical suggestions.'
'I was carried away. The idea of disposing of a dead body is fascinating as long as it's only an idea. By the way, I took one thing for granted that I shouldn't have--that your friend specified that the woman had died by violence. If she could have died of natural causes--'
'No. She had been stabbed. There was a knife, the handle of a knife. . . .'
'Then it's impossible. A hackie letting someone else drive his cab is a misdemeanor, and so is driving a cab without a license, but driving off with a dead body with a knife sticking in it, and dumping it somewhere, and not reporting it--that's a felony. Good for at least a year and probably more.'
!'i !|l
68 3 at Wolfe's Door
She opened a fist to grip my arm, leaning to me. 'But not if she did it right! Not if no one ever knew! I told you one thing wrong she did recognize her! She did know her when she was alive! So she can't--'
'Hold it,' I growled. 'Give me some money quick. Pay me. A dollar bill, five--don't sit and stare. See that police car? If it goes on by--no, it's stopping--pay me!'
She was going to panic. She started up, but my hand on her shoulder stopped her and held her down. She opened the purse and took out folded bills without fumbling, and I took them and put them in my pocket. 'Staring is okay,' I told her, not too loud. 'People stare at police cars. Stay put and keep your mouth shut. I'm going to take a look. Naturally I'm curious.'
That was perfectly true. I was curious. The prowl car had stopped alongside the taxi, and a cop, not the one who was driving, had got out and circled around to the door of the taxi on his side and was opening it as I reached the sidewalk. When you have a reputation for cheek you should live up to it, so I crossed to the door on my side and pulled it open. The seat was empty, but in front of it was a spread of brown canvas held up by whatever was under it. The cop, lifting a corner of the canvas, snarled at me, 'Back up, you,' and I retreated half a step, but he hadn't said to close the door, so I had a good view when he pulled the canvas off. More light would have helped, but there was enough to see that it was a woman, or had been, and that the knife whose handle was perpendicular to her ribs was all the way in.
'My God,' I said with feeling.
'Shut that door!' the cop barked. 'No, don't touch it!'
'I already have.'
'I saw you. Beat it! No! What's your name?'
'Goodwin. Archie Goodwin. This is Nero Wolfe's house, and--'
'I know it is. And I know about you. Is this your cab?'
'Certainly not. I'm not a hackie.'
'I know you're not. I mean--' He stopped. Apparently he had realized that the function of a prowl cop on finding a corpse is not to argue with onlookers. His head jerked around. 'Climb out, Bill. DOA. I'll call in.' The cop behind the wheel wriggled out,
Method Three for Murder 69
and the one in command wriggled in, and I mounted the stoop and sat down beside my client, noting that she had removed the cap and apparently had stashed it.
I kept my voice low, though it wasn't necessary since the cop was talking on his radio. 'In about eight minutes,' I said, 'experts will begin arriving. They will not be strangers to me. Since as far as I know you merely came to get me to tell you how to win a bet, when they start asking questions I'll be glad to answer them if you want to leave it to me. I've had practice answering questions.'
She was gripping my arm again. 'You looked in. You saw--'
'Shut up, and I don't beg your pardon. You talk too much. Even if I still lived and worked here we wouldn't go inside because it wouldn't be natural, with cops in a prowl car finding a corpse in a taxi parked at the curb--oh, I haven't mentioned that, that there's a dead woman in the taxi. I mention it now because naturally I would, and naturally I would stick around to watch developments. I'm talking to keep you from talking, since naturally we would talk. Not only have I had practice answering questions, but I know some of the rules. There are only three methods that are any good in the long run. You have strong fingers.'
'I'm sorry.' Her grip relaxed a little, but she held on. 'What are the three methods?'
