Triple Jeopardy Page 4

  "Yes, she went to a show with a friend. Guys and Dolls."

  "Fine. It's a good show. This really is confidential, Miss Devlin. So we're alone?"

  "Certainly we are. What is it, anyhow?"

  There were three things wrong. First, I had a hunch, and my batting average on hunches is high. Second, she was talking too loud. Third, her telling me where Carol Berk was, even naming the show, was off key.

  "The reason it's so confidential," I said, "is simply that you

  3�

  ought to decide for yourself what you want to do. I doubt if I you realize what lengths other people may go to to help you decide. You say we're alone, but it wouldn't surprise me a j bit--"

  I sprang up, marched across to the door that wasn't quite

  (closed, thinking it the most likely, and jerked it open. Behind

  me a little smothered shriek came from Delia Devlin. In front

  of me, backed up against closet shelves piled with cartons and

  I miscellany, was Carol Berk. One look at her satisfied me on

  one point--what her eyes were like when something hap i pened that really aroused her.

  I stepped back. Delia Devlin was at my elbow, jabbering. I gripped her arm hard enough to hurt a little and addressed Carol Berk as she emerged from the closet. "My God, do I look like that big a sap? Maybe your sidewise glance isn't as keen as you think--"

  Delia was yapping at me. "You get out! Get out!" Carol stopped her. "Let him stay, Delia." She was calm and contemptuous. "He's only a crummy little stooge, trying to slip one over for his boss. I'll be back in an hour or so."

  She moved. Delia, protesting, caught her arm, but she pulled loose and left through one of the open doors. There were sounds from the adjoining room, then she appeared again, with a thing on her head and a jacket and handbag, and passed through to the foyer. The outer door opened and then closed. I crossed to a window and stuck my head out and in a minute saw her emerge to the sidewalk and turn west. I went back to my chair and sat. The open closet door was unsightly, and I got up and closed it and then sat again. "Just forget it," I said cheerfully. "The closet was a bum idea anyhow; she would have stifled in there. Sit down and relax while I try to slip one over for my boss."

  She stood. "I'm not interested in anything you have to say."

  "Then you shouldn't have let me in. Certainly you : shouldn't have stuck Miss Berk in that closet. Let's get it ,-Over with. I merely want to find out whether you have any �Use for ten thousand dollars."

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  She gawked. "Whether I what?"

  "Sit down and I'll tell you."

  She went to a chair and sat, and I shifted position to be more comfortable facing her. "First I want to tell you a couple of things about murder investigations. In--"

  "I've heard all I want to about murder."

  "I know you have, but that's one of the things. When you get involved in one it's not a question of what or how much you want to hear. That's the one question nobody asks you. Until and unless the Rackell case is solved, with the answers all in, you'll be hearing about it the rest of your life. Face it, Miss Devlin."

  She didn't say anything. She clasped her hands.

  "The other thing about murder investigations. Someone gets murdered, and the cops go to work on it. Everybody that might possibly have a piece of useful information gets questioned. Say they question fifty different people. How many of the fifty answer every question truthfully? Maybe ten, maybe only four or five. Ask any experienced homicide man. They know it and they expect it, and that's why, when they think it's worth it, they go over the same questions with the same person again and again, after the truth. They often get it that way and they nearly always do with people who have cooked up a story, something they did or saw, with details. Of course you're not one of those. You haven't cooked up a detailed story. You have only answered a simple question 'No' instead of 'Yes.' They can't catch you--"

  "What question? What do you mean?"

  "I'm coming to it. I want--"

  "Do you mean I lied? About what?"

  I shook my head, not to call her a liar. "Wait till I get to it. You would of course show shocked surprise if I made the flat statement that Fifi Goheen murdered Arthur Rackell by changing his capsules at the restaurant that evening and that you saw her do it. Naturally you would, since the police have asked you if you saw anyone perform that action or any part of it, and you have answered no. Wouldn't you?"

  She was frowning, concentrated. Her hands were still

  3^

  clasped. "But you--you haven't made any such statement." "Right. I'd rather put it another way. Nero Wolfe has his own way of investigating and his own way of reaching conclusions. He has concluded that if he sends me to see you, to ask you to tell the police that you saw Fifi Goheen substituting the capsules, it will serve the interest of truth and justice. So he sent me, and I'm asking you. It will be embarrassing for you, but not so bad. As I explained, it won't be the first time they've had somebody suddenly remembering something. You can say you and Miss Goheen have been friends and you hated to come out with it, but now you see you have to. You can even say I came here and persuaded you to speak, if you want to, but you certainly shouldn't mention the ten thousand dollars. That--" "What ten thousand dollars?"

  "I'm telling you. Mr. Wolfe has also concluded that it 'would not be reasonable to expect you to undergo such embarrassment without some consideration. He has made a suggestion to Mr. and Mrs. Rackell, and they have agreed to provide a certain sum of money. Ten thousand of it will , come to you, in appreciation of your cooperation in the cause �df justice. It will be given you in cash, in currency, within .'forty-eight hours after you have done your part--and we'll ave to discuss that, exactly what you'll tell the police. Speak for Nero Wolfe, I guarantee the payment within fortyIN^ght hours, or, if you want to, come down to his office fWith me now and he'll guarantee it himself. Don't ask me tfihat it was that made him conclude that Fifi Goheen did and that you saw her, because I don't know. Anyhow, if s's right, and he usually is, she'll only be getting what she

  ves. You know that's true." f'I stopped. She sat motionless, staring at me. There wasn't light, and I couldn't tell anything from her eyes, but looked absolutely blank. As the seconds grew to a minute on I began to think I had literally stupefied her, and I '� her a nudge. PHave I made it plain?" fpYes," she mumbled, "you've made it plain."

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  Suddenly a shudder ran over her whole body, her head dropped forward, and her hands lifted to cover her face, her elbows on her knees. The shudder quit, and she froze like that. She held it so long that I decided another nudge was required, but before I got it out she straightened up and demanded, "What made you think I would do such a thing?"

  "I don't think. Mr. Wolfe does the thinking. I'm just a crummy little stooge."

  "You'd better go. Please go!"

  I stood up and I hesitated. My feeling was that I had run through it smooth as silk, as instructed, but at that point I wasn't sure. Should I make a play of trying to crowd her into a yes or no, or leave it hanging? I couldn't stand there forever, debating it with her staring at me, so I told her, "I do think it's a good offer. The number's in the phone book."

  She had nothing to tell my back as I walked to the foyer. I let myself out, descended the three flights, walked to Lexington, found a phone booth in a drugstore, and dialed the number I knew best. In a moment Wolfe's voice was in my ear.

  "Okay," I said. "I'm in a booth. I just left her."

  "In what mind?"

  "I'm not sure. She had Carol Berk hid in a closet. After that had been attended to and we were alone I followed the script, and she was impressed. I'm so good at explaining things that she didn't have to ask questions. The light wasn't very good, but as far as I could tell the prospect of collecting ten grand wasn't absolutely repulsive to her, and neither was the idea of flipping Miss Goheen into the soup. She was torn. She told me to go, and I thought it wise to oblige. When I
left she was in a clinch with herself."

  "What is she going to do?"

  "Don't quote me. But I told her we'd have to discuss exactly what she would tell the cops, so we'll hear from her if she decides to play. Do you want my guesses?"

  "Yes."

  "Well. On her spilling it to the cops, the one thing that would spoil it, forty to one against. That isn't how her mind will work. On her deciding to play ball with us, twenty to one

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  against. She's not tough enough. On her just keeping it to herself, fifteen to one against. On general principles. On her felling Miss Goheen, ten to one against. She hates her too much. On her telling Carol Berk, two to one against, but I wouldn't dig deep on that one either way. On her telling Mr. H, even money, no matter who is a Commie and who isn't. It would show him,how fine and big-hearted and noble she is. She could be, at that. It has been done. Is Saul there?"

  "Yes. I never spent anybody's money, not even my own, on a slimmer chance."

  "Especially your own. And incidentally sticking my neck out. You don't know the meaning of fear when it comes to sticking my neck out. Do we proceed?"

  "What alternative is there?"

  "None. Has Saul got his men there?"

  "Yes."

  "Tell him to step on it and meet me at the northeast corner of Sixty-ninth and Fifth Avenue. She could be phoning Heath right now."

  "Very well. Then you'll come home?"

  I said I would, hung up, and got out of the oven. Nothing would have been more appreciated right then than a large coke-and-lime with the ice brushing my lips, but it was possible that Delia was already phoning him and he was at home to get the call, so I marched on by the fountain and out. A taxi got me to the corner of Sixty-ninth and Fifth in six minutes. My watch said 9:42.

  I strolled east on Sixty-ninth and stopped across the street from the canopied entrance of the towering tenement of which Henry Jameson Heath was a tenant. It was no casing problem for me, since Saul Panzer had been there in the afternoon to make a survey and spot foxholes. That was elaborate but desirable, because it was to be a very fancy tail, using three shifts of three men each, with Saul in charge of one, Fred Durkin of the second, and Orrie Cather of the third. Fifteen skins an hour that setup would cost, which was quite a disbursement on what Wolfe had admitted was a oneintwenty chance. Seeing no one but a uniformed doorman

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  in evidence around the canopy, I moseyed back to the corner.

  A taxi pulled up, and three men got out. Two of them were just men whose names I knew and with whose records I was fairly familiar, but the third was Saul Panzer, the one guy I want within hearing the day I get hung on the face of a cliff with jet eagles zooming at me. With his saggy shoulders and his face all nose, he looks one-fifth as strong and hardy, and one-tenth as smart, as he really is. I shook hands with him, not having seen him for a week or so, and nodded to the other two.

  "Is there anything to say?" I asked him.

  "I don't think so. Mr. Wolfe filled me in."

  "Okay, take it. You know the Homicide boys may be on him too?"

  "Sure. We'll try not to trip on 'em."

  "You know it's a long shot and the only bet we've got? So lose him quick, what do we care."

  "We'll lose him or die."

  "That's the spirit. That's what puts statues of private detectives in the park. See you on the witness stand."

  I left them. My immediate and urgent objective was Madison Avenue for a coke-and-lime, but I went a block north to Seventieth Street. Sixty-ninth Street now belonged to Saul and his squad.

  ittVr eleven o'clock the next morning, Friday, I sat in the uu office listening to the clank of Wolfe's elevator as it brought him down from the plant rooms.

  There had been no cheep from Delia Devlin, but we hadn't wanted one anyway. What we wanted we had got, at least the first installment. At 12:42 Thursday night Saul had phoned that Heath had checked in at Sixty-ninth Street, arriving in a taxi, alone. That was all for the night. At 6:20 in the morning he had phoned that Fred Durkin and his two men had taken over and had been briefed on the terrain. And

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  at 10:23 Fred had phoned that Heath had left his tenement and taken a taxi to 719 East Fifty-first Street and entered the building. That was the gray brick house I had visited the day before. Fred said they had seen no sign of an official tail. They were deployed. I told him he was my favorite mick and still would be if he hung on, and buzzed Wolfe in the plant rooms to inform him.

  Wolfe entered, got at his desk, looked over the morning mail, signed a couple of checks, dictated a letter of inquiry about sausage to a man in Wisconsin, and settled down with the crossword puzzle in the London Times. I carried on my routine neatly and normally, making it perfectly plain that I could be just as placid as him, no matter how tense and ticklish it got. I had just finished typing the envelope for the letter and was twirling it out of the machine when the doorbell rang. I went to the hall to answer it, took one look through the one-way glass panel, wheeled and returned to the office, and spoke.

  . "I guess I'm through as a bookie. I said forty to one she wouldn't spill it. Wengert and Cramer want in. We can sneak out the back way and head for Mexico."

  He finished putting in a letter, with precision, before he looked up. "Is this flummery?"

  "No, sir. It's them."

  "Indeed." His brows went up a trifle. "Bring them in."

  I went out and to the door, turned the knob, and pulled it open. "Hello hello," I said brightly. "Mr. Wolfe was saying only a minute ago that he would like to see Mr. Cramer and Mr. Wengert, and here you are."

  Bright as it was, it didn't go over so well because they stepped in with the first hello and were well along the hall by the time I finished. I shut the door and followed. Entering the office, it struck me as encouraging that Wengert and Wolfe were shaking hands, but then I remembered the District Attorney who always shook hands with the defendant before he opened up, to show there was no personal feeling. Cramer usually took the red leather chair at the end of

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  Wolfe's desk, but this time he let Wengert have it, and I moved up one of the yellow ones for him.

  "I sent you my regards the other day by Goodwin," Wengert said. "I hope he remembered."

  Wolfe inclined his head. "He did. Thank you."

  "I didn't know then I'd be seeing you so soon."

  "Nor did I."

  "No, I suppose not." Wengert crossed his legs and leaned back. "Goodwin said you had taken on a job for Mr. and Mrs. Benjamin Rackell."

  "That's right." Wolfe was casual. "To investigate the death of their nephew. They said he had been working for the FBI. It would have been impolitic to wander into your line of fire, so I sent Mr. Goodwin to see you."

  "Let's cut the blah. You sent him to get information you could use."

  Wolfe shrugged. "Confronted with omniscience, I bow. My motives are often obscure to myself, but you know all about them. Your advantage. If that was his errand, he failed. You told him nothing."

  "Right. Our files are for us, not for private operators. My coming here tells you that we've got a hand in this case, but that's not for publication. If you didn't want to get into our line of fire you certainly stumbled. But officially it's a Manhattan homicide, so I'm here to listen." He nodded at Cramer. "Go ahead, Inspector."

  Cramer had been holding in with difficulty. Holding in is a chronic problem with him, and it shows in various ways, chiefly by his big red face getting redder, with the color spreading lower on his thick muscular neck. He blurted at Wolfe, "Honest to God, I'm surprised! Not at Goodwin so much, but you! Subornation of perjury. Attempting to bribe a witness to give false testimony. I've known you to take some fat risks, but holy saints, this ain't risking it, it's yelling for it!"

  Wolfe was frowning. "Are you saying that Mr. Goodwin and I have suborned perjury?"

  "You've tried to!"

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  "Good heavens, that's a serious charge. You
must have warrants. Serve them, by all means."

  "Just give it to him, Inspector," Wengert advised.

  Cramer's head jerked to me. "Did you go last evening to the apartment of Delia Devlin on Fifty-first Street?"

  "It's hotter than yesterday," I stated.

  "I asked you a question!"

  "This is infantile," Wolfe told him. "You must know the legal procedure with suspected felons. We do."

  "Just give it to him," Wengert repeated.

  Cramer was glaring at Wolfe. "What you know about legal procedures. Okay. Yesterday you sent Goodwin to see Delia Devlin. In your name he offered her ten thousand dollars to testify falsely that she saw Fifi Goheen take the pillbox from the table, remove a capsule and replace it with another, and put the box back on the table. He said the money would be supplied by Mr. and Mrs. Rackell and would be handed her in currency after she had so testified. I shouldn't have said subornation of perjury, I should have said attempt. Now do I ask Goodwin some questions?"

  "I'd like to ask him one myself." Wolfe's eyes moved. "Archie. Is what Mr. Cramer just said true?" lo, sir.

  "Then don't answer questions. A policeman has no right to make an inaccurate statement to a citizen about his actions and then order him to answer questions about it." He went to Cramer. "We could drag this out interminably. Why not resolve it sensibly and conclusively?" He came to me. "Archie, get Miss Devlin on the phone and ask her to come down here at once."

  I turned and started to dial.

  "Cut it, Goodwin," Wengert snapped. I went on dialing. Cramer, who can move when he wants to, left his chair and was by me, pushing down the button. I cocked my head to look up at him. He scowled down at me. I put it back in the cradle. He returned to his chair.

  "Then we'll have to change the subject," Wolfe said dryly. "Surely your position is untenable. You want to bullyrag us

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  for what Mr. Goodwin, as my agent, said to Miss Devlin; the first thing to establish is what was actually said; and the only satisfactory way to establish it is to have them both here. Yet you not only didn't bring her with you, you are even determined that we shall not communicate with her. Obviously you don't want her to know what's going on. It's quite preposterous, but I draw no conclusion. It's hard to believe that the New York police and the FBI would conspire to bamboozle a citizen, even me."