Too Many Cooks/Champagne for One (19 page)

I let out a whistle before I thought. Wolfe sent me a sharp glance and then returned his eyes to Moulton and murmured, “Ah! How did you know?”

“I knew by the marks. The numbers chalked on the dishes. When I took them to the table, I put the dish with the chalk mark 1 in front of the card numbered 1, and the 2 in front of
the 2, and so on. They weren’t that way when I looked. They had been shifted around.”

“How many of them?”

“All but two. Numbers 8 and 9 were all right, but the rest had all been moved.”

“You can swear to that, Mr. Moulton?”

“I guess it looks like I’m going to have to swear to it.”

“And can you?”

“I can, yes, sir.”

“How would it be if at the same time you were asked to swear that, having noticed that the dishes had been moved, you replaced them in their proper positions?”

“Yes, sir. That’s what I did. I suppose that’s what will get me fired. It was none of my business to be correcting things, I knew it wasn’t. But if Mr. Servan will listen to me, it was him I did it for. I didn’t want him to lose his bet. I knew he had bet with Mr. Keith that the tasters would be eighty percent correct, and when I saw the dishes had been shifted I thought someone was framing him, so I shifted them back. Then I got out of there in a hurry.”

“I don’t suppose you remember just how they had been changed—where, for instance, number 1 had been moved to?”

“No, sir. I couldn’t say that.”

“No matter.” Wolfe sighed. “I thank you, Mr. Moulton, and you, Mr. Whipple. It is late. I’m afraid we won’t get much sleep, for we’ll have to deal with Mr. Tolman and the sheriff as early as possible. I suppose you live on the grounds here?”

They told him yes.

“Good. I’ll be sending for you. I don’t think you’ll lose your job, Mr. Moulton. I remember my commitment regarding beforehand arrangements with the authorities and I’ll live up to it. I thank all of you gentlemen for your patience. I suppose your hats are in Mr. Goodwin’s room?”

They helped me get the bottles and glasses cleared out and stacked in the foyer, and with that expert assistance it didn’t take long. The college boy didn’t help us because he hung back for a word with Wolfe. The hats and caps finally got distributed, and I opened the foyer door and they filed out. Hyacinth Brown had Boney by the arm, and Boney was still muttering when I shut the door.

In Wolfe’s room the light of dawn was at the window, even through the thick shrubbery just outside. It was my second
dawn in a row, and I was beginning to feel that I might as well join the Milkmen’s Union and be done with it. My eyes felt as if someone had painted household cement on my lids and let it dry. Wolfe had his open, and was still in his chair.

I said, “Congratulations. All you need is wings to be an owl. Shall I leave a call for twelve noon? That would leave you eight hours till dinnertime, and you’d still be ahead of schedule.”

He made a face. “Where have they got Mr. Berin in jail?”

“I suppose at Quinby, the county seat.”

“How far away is it?”

“Oh, around twenty miles.”

“Does Mr. Tolman live there?”

“I don’t know. His office must be there, since he’s the prosecuting attorney.”

“Please find out, and get him on the phone. We want him and the sheriff here at eight o’clock. Tell him—no. When you get him, let me talk to him.”

“Now?”

“Now.”

I spread out my hands. “It’s 4:30 a.m. Let the man—”

“Archie. Please. You tried to instruct me how to handle colored men. Will you try it with white men too?”

I went for the phone.

Pettigrew, the squint-eyed sheriff, shook his head and drawled, “Thank you just the same. I got stuck in the mud and had to flounder around and I’d get that chair all dirty. I’m a pretty good Stander anyhow.”

My friend Barry Tolman didn’t look any too neat himself, but he wasn’t muddy and so he hadn’t hesitated about taking a seat. It was 8:10 Thursday morning. I felt like the last nickel in a crap game, because like a darned fool I had undraped myself a little after five o’clock and got under the covers, leaving a call for 7:30, and hauling myself out again after only two hours had put me off key for good. Wolfe was having breakfast in the big chair, with a folding table pulled up to
him, in a yellow dressing gown, with his face shaved and his hair combed. He possessed five yellow dressing gowns and we had brought along the light woolen one with brown lapels and a brown girdle. He had on a necktie, too.

Tolman said, “As I told you on the phone, I’m supposed to be in court at 9:30. If necessary my assistant can get a postponement, but I’d like to make it if possible. Can’t you rush it?”

Wolfe was sipping at his cocoa for erosion on the bite of roll he had taken. When that was disposed of he said, “It depends a good deal on you, sir. It was impossible for me to go to Quinby, as I said, for reasons that will appear. I’ll do all I can to hurry it. I haven’t been to bed—”

“You said you have information—”

“I have. But the circumstances require a preamble. I take it that you arrested Mr. Berin only because you were convinced he was guilty. You don’t especially fancy him as a victim. If strong doubt were cast on his guilt—”

“Certainly.” Tolman was impatient. “I told you—”

“So you did. Now let’s suppose something. Suppose that a lawyer has been retained to represent Mr. Berin, and I have been engaged to discover evidence in Berin’s defense. Suppose further that I have discovered such evidence, of a weight that would lead inevitably to his acquittal when you put him on trial, and it is felt that it would be imprudent to disclose that evidence to you, the enemy, for the present. Suppose you demand that I produce that evidence now. It’s true, isn’t it, that you couldn’t legally enforce that demand? That such evidence is our property until the time we see fit to make use of it—provided you don’t discover it independently for yourselves?”

Tolman was frowning. “That’s true, of course. But damn it, I’ve told you that if the evidence against Berin can be explained—”

“I know. I offer, here and now, an explanation that will clear him; but I offer it on conditions.”

“What are they?”

Wolfe sipped cocoa and wiped his lips. “They’re not onerous. First, that if the explanation casts strong doubt on Berin’s guilt, he is to be released immediately.”

“Who will decide how strong the doubt is?”

“You.”

“All right, I agree. The court is sitting and it can be done in five minutes.”

“Good. Second, you are to tell Mr. Berin that I discovered the evidence which set him free, I am solely responsible for it, and God only knows what would have happened to him if I hadn’t done it.”

Tolman, still frowning, opened his mouth, but the sheriff put in, “Now wait, Barry. Hold your horses.” He squinted down at Wolfe. “If you’ve really got this evidence it must be around somewhere. I suppose we’re pretty slow out here in West Virginia—”

“Mr. Pettigrew. Please. I’m not talking about the public credit, I’m not interested in it. Tell the newspaper men whatever you want to. But Mr. Berin is to know, unequivocally, that I did it, and Mr. Tolman is to tell him so.”

Tolman asked, “Well, Sam?”

The sheriff shrugged. “I don’t give a damn.”

“All right,” Tolman told Wolfe. “I agree to that.”

“Good.” Wolfe set the cocoa cup down. “Third, it is understood that I am leaving for New York at 12:40 to-night and under no circumstances—short of a suspicion that I killed Mr. Laszio myself or was an accomplice—am I to be detained.”

Pettigrew said good-humoredly, “You go to hell.”

“No, not hell.” Wolfe sighed. “New York.”

Tolman protested, “But what if this evidence makes you a material and essential witness?”

“It doesn’t, you must take my word for that. I’m preparing to take yours for several things. I give you my word that within thirty minutes you’ll know everything of significance that I know regarding that business in the dining room. I want it agreed that I won’t be kept here beyond my train time merely because it is felt I might prove useful. Anyway, I assure you that under those circumstances I wouldn’t be useful at all; I would be an insufferable nuisance. Well, sir?”

Tolman hesitated, and finally nodded. “Qualified as you put it, I agree.”

If there is a way a canary bird sighs when you let it out of a cage, Wolfe sighed like that. “Now, sir. The fourth and last condition is a little vaguer than the others, but I think it can be defined. The evidence that I am going to give you was brought to me by two men. I led up to its disclosure by methods which seemed likely to be effective, and they were so. You will resent it that these gentlemen didn’t give you
these facts when they had an opportunity, and I can’t help that. I can’t estop your feelings, but I can ask you to restrain them, and I have promised to do so. I want your assurance that the gentlemen will not be bullied, badgered or abused, nor be deprived of their freedom, nor in any way persecuted. This is predicated on the assumption that they are merely witnesses and have no share whatever in the guilt of the murder.”

The sheriff said, “Hell, mister, we don’t abuse people.”

“Bullied, badgered, abused, deprived of freedom, persecuted, all excluded. Of course you’ll question them as much as you please.”

Tolman shook his head. “They’ll be material witnesses. They might leave the state. In fact, they will. You’re going to, to-night.”

“You can put them under bond to remain.”

“Until the trial.”

Wolfe wiggled a finger. “Not Mr. Berin’s trial.”

“I don’t mean Berin. If this evidence is as good as you say it is. But you can be damn sure there’s going to
be
a trial.”

“I sincerely hope so.” Wolfe was breaking off a piece of roll and buttering it. “What about it, sir? Since you want to get to court. I’m not asking much; merely a decent restraint with my witnesses. Otherwise you’ll have to try to dig them out for yourself, and in the meantime the longer you hold Mr. Berin the more foolish you’ll look in the end.”

“Very well.” The blue-eyed athlete nodded. “I agree.”

“To the condition as I have stated it?”

“Yes.”

“Then the preamble is finished.—Archie, bring them in.”

I smothered a yawn as I lifted myself up and went to my room to get them. They had been in there overlooking progress while I had dressed—Wolfe having had a telephone plugged in in his own chamber, and done his own assembling for the morning meeting, during my nap. They had reported in livery. Paul Whipple looked wide awake and defiant, and Moulton, the headwaiter, sleepy and nervous. I told them the stage was set, and let them precede me.

Wolfe told me to push chairs around, and Moulton jumped to help me. Tolman was staring. Pettigrew exclaimed, “Well I’ll be damned! It’s a couple of niggers! Hey, you, take that chair!” He turned to Wolfe with a grievance: “Now listen, I questioned all those boys, and by God if they—”

Wolfe snapped, “These are my witnesses. Mr. Tolman wants to get to court. I said you’d resent it, didn’t I? Go ahead, but keep it to yourself.” He turned to the college boy. “Mr. Whipple, I think we’ll have your story first. Tell these gentlemen what you told me last night.”

Pettigrew had stepped forward with a mean eye. “We don’t mister niggers here in West Virginia, and we don’t need anybody coming down here to tell us—”

“Shut up, Sam!” Tolman was snappy too. “We’re wasting time.—Your name’s Whipple? What do you do?”

“Yes, sir.” The boy spoke evenly. “I’m a waiter. Mr. Servan put me on duty at Pocahontas Pavilion Tuesday noon.”

“What have you got to say?”

The upshot of it was that Tolman couldn’t have got to court on time, for it was after nine-thirty when he left Kanawha Spa. It took only a quarter of an hour to get all the details of the two stories, but they went on from there, or rather, back and around. Tolman did a pretty good job of questioning, but Pettigrew was too mad to be of much account. He kept making observations about how educated Whipple thought he was, and how he knew what kind of lessons it was that Whipple really needed. Tolman kept pushing the sheriff off and doing some real cross-examining, and twice or thrice I saw Wolfe, who was finishing his breakfast at leisure, give a little nod as an acknowledgment of Tolman’s neat job. Whipple kept himself even-toned right through, but I could see him holding himself in when the sheriff made observations about his education and the kind of lessons he needed. Moulton started off jerky and nervous, but he smoothed off as he went along, and his only job was to stick to his facts in reply to Tolman’s questions, since Pettigrew was concentrating on Whipple.

Finally Tolman’s string petered out. He raised his brows at Wolfe, glanced at the sheriff, and looked back again at Moulton with a considering frown.

Pettigrew demanded, “Where did you boys leave your caps? We’ll have to take you down to Quinby with us.”

Wolfe was crisp right away. “Oh, no. Remember the agreement. They stay here on their jobs. I’ve spoken with Mr. Servan about that.”

“I don’t give a damn if you’ve spoken with Ashley himself. They go to jail till they get bond.”

Wolfe’s eyes moved. “Mr. Tolman?”

“Well … it was agreed they could be put under bond.”

“But that was when you supposed that they were persons who were likely to leave your jurisdiction. These men have jobs here; why should they leave? Mr. Moulton has a wife and children. Mr. Whipple is a university man.” He looked at the sheriff. “Your assumption that you know how to deal with colored men and I don’t is impertinent nonsense. Tuesday night, as an officer of the law engaged in the investigation of a crime, at which you are supposed to be expert, you questioned these men and failed to learn anything. You didn’t even have your suspicions aroused. Last night I had a talk with them and uncovered vital information regarding that crime. Surely you have enough intelligence to see how utterly discredited you are. Do you want your whole confounded county to know about it? Pfui!” He turned to the two greenjackets. “You men get out of here and go to your stations and get to work. You understand, of course, that Mr. Tolman will need your evidence and you will hold yourselves subject to his proper demands. If he requires bond, any lawyer can arrange it. Well, go on!”