Rex Stout - Nero Wolfe 31 (22 page)

A noise, an explosive noise, came from his aunt. “You liar,” she said, a glint of hate in the pale gray eyes. “You sit there and lie. You told me so you could blackmail me, to get more millions out of me. The millions Albert had given you weren’t enough. You weren’t satisfied—”

“Stop it!” Wolfe’s voice was a whip. He was scowling at her. “You are in mortal peril, madam. I have put you there, so I have a responsibility, and I advise you to hold your tongue. Mr. Cramer. Do you want more from Mr. Byne, or more from me?”

“You.” Cramer was so shocked he was hoarse. “You say that Mrs. Robilotti deliberately let Faith Usher come to that party so she could kill her. Is that right?”

“Yes.”

“And that her motive was that she knew that Faith Usher was the illegitimate child of Albert Grantham?”

“It could have been. With her character and temperament that could have been sufficient motive. But she has herself just suggested an additional one. Her nephew may have been using Faith Usher as a fulcrum to pry a fortune out of her. You will explore that.”

“I certainly will. That show you put on. You say that proved that Mrs. Robilotti could have done it?”

“Yes. You saw it. She could have dropped the poison into the glass that had been standing there for
three or four minutes. She stayed there at the bar. If someone else had started to take that glass she could have said it was hers. When her son came and picked up the two glasses, if he had taken the poisoned one in his right hand, which would have meant—to her, since she knew his habits—that he would drink it himself, again she could have said it was hers and told him to get another one. Or she could even have handed it to him, have seen to it that he took the poisoned one in his left hand; but you can’t hope to establish that, since neither she nor her son would admit it. The moment he left the bar with the poisoned glass in his left hand Faith Usher was doomed; and the risk was slight, since an ample supply of cyanide was there on a chair in Miss Usher’s bag. It would unquestionably be assumed that she had committed suicide; indeed, it was assumed, and the assumption would have prevailed if Mr. Goodwin hadn’t been there and kept his eyes open.”

“Who told Mrs. Robilotti that Miss Usher had the poison? And when?”

“I don’t know.” Wolfe gestured. “Confound it, must I shine your shoes for you?”

“No, I’ll manage. You’ve shined enough. You say the risk was slight. It wasn’t slight when she got Miss Usher’s bag and took out the bottle and took some of the poison.”

“I doubt if she did that. I doubt if she ever went near that bag. If she knew that the poison Miss Usher carried around was cyanide, and several people did, she probably got some somewhere else, which isn’t difficult, and had it at hand. I suggest that that is worth inquiry, whether she recently had access to a supply of cyanide. You might even find that she had
actually procured some.” Wolfe gestured again. “I do not pretend that I am showing you a ripened fruit which you need only to pick. I undertook merely to satisfy myself whether Mr. Goodwin was right or wrong. I am satisfied. Are you?”

Cramer never said. Mrs. Robilotti was on her feet. I had the idea then that what moved her was Wolfe’s mentioning the possibility that she had got hold of cyanide somewhere else, and learned a few days later that I had been right, when Purley Stebbins told me that they had found out where she got it, and could prove it. Anyhow, she was on her feet, and moving, but had taken only three steps when she had to stop. Cramer and Purley were both there blocking the way, and together they weigh four hundred pounds and are over four feet wide.

“Let me pass,” she said. “I’m going home.”

I have seldom felt sorry for that pair, but I did then, especially Cramer.

“Not right now,” he said gruffly. “I’m afraid you’ll have to answer some questions.”

O
ne item. You may remember my mentioning that one day, the day after the murderer of Faith Usher was convicted, I was discussing with a friend what was the most conceited remark we had ever heard? It was that same day that I caught sight of Edwin Laidlaw in the men’s bar at the Churchill and decided to do a good deed. Besides, I had felt that the amount on the bill we had sent him, which he had paid promptly without a murmur, had been pretty stiff, and he had something coming. So I approached him, and after greetings had been exchanged I performed the deed.

“I didn’t want to mention it,” I said, “while her mother was on trial for murder, but now I can tell you, in case you’re interested. One day during that commotion I was talking with Celia Grantham, and your name came up, and she said, ‘I may marry him someday. If he gets into a bad jam I’ll marry him now.’ I report it only because I thought you might want to take some dancing lessons.”

“I don’t have to,” he said. “I appreciate it, and many thanks, but we’re getting married next week. On the quiet. We put it off until the trial was over. Let me buy you a drink.”

There you are. I’m one good deed shy.

Now, for the first time ever, enjoy a peek into the life of Nero Wolfe’s creator, Rex Stout, courtesy of the Stout Estate. Pulled from Rex Stout’s own archives, here are rarely seen, some never-before-published memorabilia. Each title in “The Rex Stout Library” will offer an exclusive look into the life of the man who gave Nero Wolfe life.

Champagne for One

Authors and editors often rely on one another when deciding on a title for a novel. Fortunately for Marshall Best, Stout’s longtime editor, his author was able to come up with something that worked perfectly without the help of his “title department.” Could you imagine this classic story titled
Champagne for Faith Usher?