only two cars back. I was thinking what a come down. On the trip bringing her to Wolfe's house I had had seven million bucks there on the seat with me, and now going back apparently all I had was a measly hundred thousand, or at the most twice that. It was no wonder she didn't feel like talking, after that amount of deflation. She did manage to murmur thanks when I delivered her on the sidewalk in front of her address. Saul had rounded the corner into 73rd, for a parking space. I inspected a wheel until he was in sight again, and then remounted and applied the spur. FR1;WHERE THERE^S A WILL 81 I got back home at 8:3 0, and was touched to find that Wolfe had waited dinner for me, our usual hour being eight o'clock. Fred Durkin was still around at a dollar an hour, which surprised me, since Wolfe wasn't the kind of man to take expensive precautions when the treasury was plucking at the counterpane. If it had been Saul Panzer or Orrie Gather, he would have eaten with Wolfe and me, but since it was Fred he ate in the kitchen with Fritz. Fred put vinegar on things, and no man who did that ate at Wolfe's table. Fred did it back in 1932, calling for vinegar and stirring it into brown roux for a squab. Nothing had been said, Wolfe regarding it as immoral to interfere with anybody's meal until it was down and the digestive processes completed, but the next morning he had fired Fred and kept him fired for over a month. After dinner we wandered back into the office. Wbife got himself settled at his desk with the atlas, and I indulged in a grin when I saw that instead of departing for a little journey to Outer Mongolia he had turned to the map of New York State and, judging from the slant of his eyes, was freshening up on Rockland County. I had just selected a book for a quiet hour when the phone rang. I got to my instrument and told the transmitter: 'Office of Nero Wolfe.' Hearing my name in a familiar voice, I told 82 WHERE THERE'S A WILL Wolfe it was Saul Panzer, and with a sigh he put the atlas down and took it on his extension, and grunted a green light. '9:56, sir,' Saul's voice said. 'Subject entered apartment house, delivered by Archie, at 8:14. At 9:12 she came out again, took a taxi to Santoretti's, Italian restaurant at 833 East 62nd Street, and went in. I went in and ate spaghetti and talked Italian with the waiter. She is there at a table with a man, eating chicken and mushrooms. He has no appetite, but she has. They talk in undertones. I'm phoning from a drugstore at the northwest corner of 62nd and Second Avenue. If they separate after leaving, which one do I take?' 'Describe the man.'* '40 to 45, 5 feet 10, 170 pounds. Drinks. Suit, well-made gray tropical worsted, hat expensive flop-brim gray summer-weight felt. Shaved yesterday. Blue shirt, gray four-inhand with blue stripe. Medium-square jaw, wide mouth and full lips, long narrow nose, puffy around the eyes, brown eyes with a nervous blink, ears set--' 'That will do. You don't know him.' 'No, sir.' Saul was apologetic at having to report a man for whom he had no entry in the extensive and accurate card index he carried in his skull. Wolfe said, 'Fred will join you across the street from Santoretti's as soon as possible. If they sepa- FR1;WHERE THERE'S A WILL 83 rate, give him the man. That woman could be difficult.'
'Yes, sir, I agree.' Wolfe hung up and tossed me a nod, and I went to the kitchen, where I interrupted Fred in the middle of a yawn that would have held a quart of vinegar. I gave him the picture, told him it was a till further notice, with emphasis on identity, and herded his ungainly bulk through the hall and out the front door. Standing out on the stone stoop for a breath of nice hot July air, watching him hotfoot it for the corner, I observed a taxi zooming along in toy direction, heard the brakes screech, and saw it stop with a jerk at the curb below me. A woman got out, paid the driver and dismissed him, crossed the sidewalk and mounted the seven steps, and smiled sweetly at me in the light that came through the open door. 'May I see Mr. Wolfe?' I nodded hospitably and ushered her into the hall, asked her to wait a minute, and went to the office and told Wolfe that Miss May Hawthorne requested an audience. CHAPTER SIX the office had been restored to its normal condition as to chairs. As usual, the red one was at the right of Wolfe's desk, turned to face him, and the college president sat in it. She looked tired and her eyes had little red streaks on the whites, but her backbone wasn't sagging. Wolfe said, 'That was quite a shock you folks got here this afternoon.' She nodded. 'It's hard on us. Especially on my sister April, because she pretends she has to laugh at everything. Art making faces at life. Have you had a talk with Miss Karn?' 'A short one. She stayed after the others left.' 'Did you make an agreement with her?' 'No. She offered to relinquish half of the estate, but I refused that.' 'Thank goodness.' Miss Hawthorne looked relieved. 'Knowing your reputation, and having had a look at you, I was afraid you might have cornered her and got us committed. But you realize, of course, that the situation is entirely changed. In my opinion, it is now inadvisable to deal with her at all.' 'Indeed. Do the others agree with you?' 84 FR1;I WHERE THERE^S A WILL S5 I- 'I don't know. I believe they will. The point is this, we wished to come to an arrangement with . Miss Karn as soon as possible to avoid the fracas my sister-in-law was determined to start. Now it doesn't matter. With the soot a murder investigation will deposit all over us, a will contest wouldn't even make a smudge.' ^ ' Wolfe pursed his lips. 'That's one way of looking at it. I suppose Mr. Skinner and the others followed you people home?' 'Certainly they did. My sister-in-law had them admitted, but on Mr. Prescott's advice we all--all but Daisy--refused to see them until my sister June had phoned her husband in Washington. He told her we should assist the authorities all we could by answering any relevant questions. Then they went after us--oh, I suppose they were considerate and courteous. The result seems to be that we are all suspected of murder.' 'All?' 'Most of us. I presume that sort of nightmare is familiar enough to you, but I am not a detective and I don't read crime stories in the papers, I'm too busy. Apparently my brother died--was shot-- between 4; 30 and 5:30. Titus Ames heard a third shot a little before five o'clock--there had been two previous ones which two dead crows account for. At that time my sister April was upstairs taking 86 WHERE THERE'S A WILL a nap, but no one was there watching her. My sister was somewhere picking raspberries and grape leaves for a table decoration. I was in a bathroom washing stockings.' I thought, aha, the magazine was right, she really does! She was going on: 'Celia--Miss Fleet--was in her room writing letters. She answers all the letters from morons my sister April receives. Mrs. Ames was making preparations for the dinner. Daisy, Noel's wife, was out in a meadow picking black-eyed susans. She calls them daisies. John--my brother-in-law--was chopping wood. Those men actually asked me, very courteously, if I could remember hearing his axe going all the time I was washing stockings. I washed my hair too. Mr. Stauffer, whom I violently dislike, had gone to the pond for a swim. Titus Ames was milking cows. Andy had driven to Nyack to get some ice cream, but that doesn't clear him, because the highway passes not far from where it happened, just the other side of a strip of woods. Sara and Mr. Prescott were in New York and didn't get there until half past seven, nearly two hours after my brother's body was found--Mr. Prescott drove Sara out in his car--but I shouldn't think they're out of it either--couldn't one of them have come previously in an airplane and gone back again?' WHERE THERE'S A WILL 87 Wolfe nodded gravely. 'Or even a glider from the Empire State Building; it's only thirty or forty miles. Since it's already fantastic, we might as well pile it on.' 'It's not fantastic at all,' Miss Hawthorne retorted. 'It's cold and horrible fact. And they're going to work on it. They're going to proceed on the theory that my brother was murdered because ^ he had John Dunn's career in his grip and wouldn't let go. They can't move anything--that is, they can't convict anyone of murder--but they can ruin John, and they will--' ? She pressed her palm to her forehead and closed her eyes. Wolfe murmured, 'A little brandy, Archie.' I got up to get it, but she shook her head and said, 'No.' I hesitated. She said, 'No thanks, really,' and dropped her hand and opened her eyes j at Wolfe. She straightened her back. 'I beg your pardon. I didn't intend--I only spoke of all that to explain why I think you shouldn't go ahead with Miss [ Karn. We no longer shrink from scandal and sensation. I have no rancor for Miss Karn, but there is no reason she should get anything my brother didn't intend her to get. I don't believe that that grotesque paper Mr. Prescott read to us expresses my brother's intentions at all. Noel had faults, 88 WHERE THERE'S A WILL plenty of them, but he told me he was bequeathing a million dollars to the Varney science fund, and nothing will ever convince me that he didn't do it.' 'You said that this afternoon.' 'I repeat it.' 'Then you accuse Mr. Prescott of villainy. He drew the will and produces this one as authentic. Do you think he is splitting with Miss Karn?' 'Good heavens, no.' Her eyes widened in astonishment.
Wolfe frowned. 'I'm afraid your mind isn't working very well, Miss Hawthorne. No wonder, with the jolts you've had. You say you believe-- when did your brother tell you he was leaving a million to your fund?' 'He mentioned it two or three times. A year ago last winter he informed me he intended to make it a million instead of half that amount. Last summer he told me he had done so.' 'The summer of 193 8 ?' 'Yes.' 'Well. You say you are convinced he wasn't deceiving you. That he had done what he said. But the will which Mr. Prescott presents as authentic is dated March 7th, 1958, and it was after that date that your brother told you he had changed it to a million for your fund. Therefore you are charging Mr. Prescott with fraud.' WHERE THERE^S A WILL 89 'Not at all,' she declared impatiently. 'If I had to base my contention on a supposition as improbable as that, I'd abandon it. I know Glenn Prescott. He's a fairly shrewd and capable Wall Street lawyer, with the natural flexibility in ethics and morals that is a functional necessity in his environment, but he totally lacks the daring and imagination that are required for banditry in the grand manner. I would be as likely to write a great epic poem as he would be to steal three million dollars by substituting a forgery for my brother's will. I suppose that's what you meant--that about his
