Gambit (8 page)

At the dinner table, and with coffee in the office afterwards, Wolfe resumed on the subject he had started at lunch - Voltaire. The big question was, could a man be called great on account of the way he used words, even though he was a toady, a trimmer, a forger, and an intellectual fop. That had been dealt with at lunch, and Voltaire had come out fairly well except on the toady count. How could you call a man great who sought the company and the favors of dukes and duchesses, of Richelieu, of Frederick of Prussia'But it was at dinner and in the office that Voltaire really got it. What finally ruled him out was something that hadn’t been mentioned at lunch at all: he had no palate and not much appetite. He was indifferent to food; he might even eat only once a day; and he drank next to nothing. All his life he was extremely skinny, and in his later years he was merely a skeleton. To call him a great man was absurd; strictly speaking, he wasn’t a man at all, since he had no palate and a dried-up stomach.

He was a remarkable word-assembly plant, but he wasn’t a man, let alone a great one.

I suppose I shouldn’t do this. I should either report Wolfe’s table talk verbatim, and you could either enjoy it or skip it, or I shouldn’t mention it.

Usually I leave it out, but that evening I had a suspicion that I want to put in. Reporting to him on my visit to the Blount apartment, I had of course included a description of Kalmus: mostly bones and skin. I suspected that that was why Wolfe picked on Voltaire for both lunch and dinner, leading up to the climax. It wasn’t much of a connection, but it was a connection, and it showed that he couldn’t forget the fix he was in even at meals. That was my suspicion,

and, if I was right, I didn’t like it. It had never happened before. It had to mean that he was afraid that sooner or later he was going to have to eat something highly unpleasant for both his palate and his stomach - the assumption that Matthew Blount was innocent.

The coffee things were still there and he was still on Voltaire when Charles W.

Yerkes came a little before nine-thirty. Another indication of Wolfe’s state of mind was when the doorbell rang and Sally asked him if she should leave, and he raised his shoulders an eighth of an inch and said, “As you please.” That wasn’t him at all, and, as I went to the front to admit the caller, I had to arrange my face not to give him the impression that what we needed was sympathy and plenty of it.

Sally had stood when I went to answer the bell, and she met Yerkes at the office door. He took her offered hand in both of his, murmuring something, gave her hand a pat and let it go, and shot a glance to right and left as he entered.

When Wolfe didn’t extend a hand of course he didn’t; he was a top executive.

They exchanged nods as I pronounced names, and he waited until Sally was seated,

in one of the yellow chairs I had moved up, to take the red leather one. As he sat he spoke, to her. “I came because I said I would, Sally, but I’m a little confused. After you phoned I called your mother, and apparently there’s a … a misunderstanding. She seems to think you’re making a mistake.”

Sally nodded. “Did she tell you what I - why I’m here?”

“Only vaguely. Perhaps you’ll tell me, so I’ll know why I’m here.” He was smiling at her, friendly but wanting to know. Cagey, but why not'A senior vice-president of a billion-dollar bank who is involved in a front-page murder case, even accidentally, isn’t going to get involved any deeper if he can help it. Also he was good at chess.

“I don’t think I’m making a mistake,” Sally said. The reason I’m here is …

because I …” She let it hang, turned her head to look at me, and then looked at Wolfe. “Will you tell him, Mr. Wolfe?”

Wolfe was leaning back, his eyes at Yerkes. “I presume, sir, you’re a man of discretion.”

“I like to think I am.” At Wolfe, the banker wasn’t smiling. “I try to be.”

“Good. The circumstances require it. It’s merely a difference of opinion, but it would be unfortunate if it were made public at the moment. You may have seen an item in a newspaper yesterday that I have been engaged to inquire into the murder of Paul Jerin.”

“It was called to my attention.”

“It was Miss Blount who engaged me, against the advice of her father and his attorney, and her mother agrees with them. She offered me a sizable fee and I took it. Knowing that her father is in serious jeopardy, she fears that his counsel is not up to the emergency, and she has a high regard for my talents,

possibly exaggerated. In making an inquiry I need to inquire, and you are one of those concerned in the matter. Mrs. Blount thinks her daughter has made a mistake in hiring me, but her daughter doesn’t and I don’t. My self-esteem rejects any supposition that I’ll be a hindrance. I may conceivably hit upon a point that Mr. Kalmus would miss - not that I challenge his competence, though he decries mine. Have I made it clear - why Miss Blount asked you to come?”

“Not entirely. Of course I have been questioned by law officers, and by Mr.

Kalmus, but I could contribute nothing useful.” Yerkes’s eyes went to Sally,

shifting around ninety degrees while his head hardly moved at all. It’s a good trick for a shoplifter or pickpocket because it helps on security, and it’s probably also good at directors’ meetings because it saves energy. He asked her,

“Why do you think Dan isn’t up to it, Sally'Any particular reason?”

Either Mrs. Blount hadn’t mentioned the problem of jealous daughters or he was being discreet. Sally did all right. “No,” she said, “not particular. I’m just… afraid.” “Well.” His quick keen eyes went back to Wolfe. “Frankly,

Wolfe, I’m inclined to agree with them. My bank doesn’t happen to use Kalmus’s firm, and neither do I personally, but he certainly is a reputable lawyer, and as far as I know an able one. What can you do that he can’t do?”

“I won’t know until I’ve done it.” Wolfe straightened up. “Mr. Yerkes. Do you think Mr. Blount killed that man?”

“Of course not. Certainly not.” But before he said it his eyes darted a glance at Sally, a dead giveaway. If he had really felt and meant that ‘of course not’

why glance at her'Either he simply didn’t mean it or he was an extremely smooth customer who knew more tricks than one and also knew more about the death of Paul Jerin than he was supposed to. He didn’t add one of the old stand-bys, such as that he had known Blount for many years and he wouldn’t kill a fly.

“Neither do I,” Wolfe said, as if he did mean it. “But the factual evidence pointing to him is weighty and can’t be impeached. You know that?”

“Yes.”

“So I ignore it. There are other facts - for instance, that four other men, the four messengers, had opportunities to poison the chocolate, when they entered the library to report moves. I understand that on those occasions, some if not all, Jerin closed his eyes to concentrate. Is that true?”

“Yes. Usually he did, after the first three or four moves. He bent his head down and sometimes covered his eyes with his hands.” Yerkes turned to the client.

“You understand, Sally, my answering these questions doesn’t mean that I’m siding with you against your father and mother. I’m not. But you have a right to your opinion, and I’m willing to oblige you within reason.” Back to Wolfe. “And I agree that you’re not likely to be a hindrance. I know something of your record. But Kalmus is quite aware that the four messengers had plenty of opportunities, including me. That’s obvious. The question is, why would I'Why would any of them?”

Wolfe nodded. “That’s the point. Take you. You had no animus for Mr. Jerin. But it’s conceivable that you had, and still have, ill will toward Mr. Blount. And Jerin’s death was only one of two dismal consequences of his drinking that chocolate; the other is that Blount is in deadly peril. Is that somehow pleasing to you, Mr. Yerkes'I have been hired to make an inquiry and I’m inquiring. Did you perhaps suggest to Blount that he should himself take the chocolate to Jerin'Or, when you informed him that Jerin was unwell, did you suggest that he should attend to the pot and cup?”

The banker’s eyes were narrowed, and his lips were tight. “I see,” he said, low,

so low that I barely got it, and I have good ears. “That’s how you… I see.” He nodded. “Very clever. Possibly more than clever. Kalmus may have it in mind too - I don’t know. You asked me two questions - no, three. The answer is no to all of them. But you have certainly hit on a point. This makes it… hmmm…

Hausman, Farrow, and Kalmus … hmmm. Of course I have no comment.” He turned to Sally. “But I’m not so sure you made a mistake.” Back to Wolfe. “I do understand you'You’re saying that Jerin was merely a pawn to be sacrificed in a deliberate plot to destroy Blount?”

“I’m suggesting it. It’s my working hypothesis. Naturally you said no to my three questions; so would the other three. You would also say no if I asked you whether you have any knowledge of their relations with Blount that would be suggestive; and so would they. But a man’s feeling toward another so intense that he is bent implacably on his ruin - such a feeling doesn’t exist in a vacuum. It has discoverable roots, and I intend to find them. Or the feeling,

intense feeling, might not be directed at Blount; it might be fastened on some desired object which only Blount’s removal would render accessible. With Farrow,

it might be control of an industrial empire, through his aunt; with Hausman, who is by nature fanatic, it might be some grotesque aspiration; with you or Kalmus,

it might be Mrs. Blount. I intend - “

“Mrs. Blount’s daughter is present, Wolfe.”

“So she is. I’m only speculating at random. I didn’t inject Mrs. Blount’s name wantonly; Mr. Goodwin, who has seen her and who is qualified to judge, says that she might well unwittingly lead a man to defy the second prescription of the Tenth Commandment, thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s wife. But I am only speculating. I intend to find the roots. I haven’t the legions of the law, but I have three good men available besides Mr. Goodwin, and there is no pressing urgency. Mr. Blount won’t be brought to trial this week or month.”

He was talking to hear himself, rambling on about vacuums and roots and quoting the Bible. He hadn’t the faintest notion that Charles W. Yerkes had murdered Paul Jerin in order to erase Matthew Blount, nor did he expect to get any drop of useful information from that bimbo. Merely he would rather talk than try some other way of occupying his mind to keep it off of the fix he was in.

At that, he had a good listener. Yerkes wasn’t missing a word. When Wolfe paused for breath he asked, “Have you suggested this working hypothesis to the District Attorney’s office?”

Fine. A satisfactory answer to that, with a full explanation, would take a good three minutes. But Wolfe only said, “No, sir. They’re satisfied with Mr. Blount.

I am not.”

Yerkes looked at Sally and then at me, but he wasn’t seeing us; he was merely giving his eyes a change from Wolfe while he decided something. It took him some seconds, then he returned to Wolfe. “You realize,” he said, “that for a senior officer of an important financial institution the publicity connected with an affair like this is… regrettable. Even a little… embarrassing. Of course it was proper and necessary for the police to see some of my friends and associates, to learn if I had had any kind of connection with that man Jerin,

but it has been disagreeable. And now you, your men, private detectives,

inquiring into my relations with Blount - that could be even more disagreeable,

but I know I can’t stop you. I admit your hypothesis is at least plausible. But I can save you some time and trouble, and perhaps make it less disagreeable for me.”

He paused to swallow; it wasn’t coming easy. “It is common knowledge in the banking world that before long a choice will be made for a new president of my bank, and that I will probably be named, but some of the directors, a minority,

at present favor another man. Matthew Blount is one of that minority, but naturally since he is now … in the circumstances, he will not be able to attend the Board meeting next week. It wouldn’t have taken much inquiry for you to learn this, hundreds of people know it, but I want to add that it has had no effect on my personal relations with Blount. It isn’t that he’s against me, it’s only that he has greater obligations to the other man, and I understand it and so does he. I will not add that I didn’t kill that man Jerin with the purpose of getting Blount charged with murder; I won’t dignify anything so fantastic by denying it.”

He rose. “I wish you luck with your hypothesis. The other three, Hausman and Farrow and Kalmus, are merely men I know, but Matthew Blount is my old and valued friend, and so is his wife.” He moved, to Sally. “So are you, Sally. I think you should go home, that’s where you belong at a time like this. I’m sure your father would want -“

The doorbell rang, I could have left it to Fritz, since he was still in the kitchen and it wasn’t ten o’clock yet, but I had to go to the hall anyway to see Yerkes out, so I went. There had been no picture in the papers of Victor Avery,

M.D., but if you’re expecting an upper-bracket doctor to drop in and you see on the stoop a middle-aged well-fed specimen in a conventional gray overcoat, with scarf, and a dark gray homburg, when you open the door you greet him politely,

“Dr Avery?”

As he removed the coat, with an assist from me, Yerkes came, followed by Sally,

and I observed that apparently Avery was just another man Yerkes knew, not an old and valued friend; or it may have been only that Yerkes’s mind was too occupied for more than a word and a nod, and Avery’s attention was all for Sally. He took her hand and patted her arm and said, “My dear child,” and let the hand go only when they reached the office door.

When I joined them in the office after closing the door behind Yerkes, Avery was in the red leather chair and speaking, telling Sally that he had turned a matter over to an assistant so he could come. I noticed as I passed, looking down at him, that he had just the right amount of gray in his hair to look the part.

He turned to Wolfe. “There aren’t many things I wouldn’t do for Miss Blount. In fact I feel responsible, since I brought her into the world. So I’m here, at your disposal, though I don’t know exactly what for. She told me on the phone that she has employed you in her father’s interest - professionally. If that’s correct - to call a detective a professional man?”