I’ve heard of Hattie Annis because Miss Baxter asked if
she had been here, and I told her no. She asked me to
phone her if she came, but I probably won’t. What if this
Hattie Annis comes and hires Mr. Wolfe to do a job?
She might not want anyone to know she had been here.
So skip it.”
“I’m an officer of the law, Goodwin. I’m an agent of
the United States government.”
“So you are. And?”
“I want to know if Hattie Annis has been here today.”
“Ask her. Miss Baxter gave me the phone number.
Do you want it?”
“I have it.” He put his hat on. “I know your reputa-
tion, Goodwin, and Wolfe’s. You may get away with
fancy tricks with the New York Police Department, but
I advise you not to try any with the Secret Service.” He
turned and went, leaving the door open.
I shut the door and then went to the office. I got the
best glass from a drawer of Wolfe’s desk and a new
twenty-dollar bill from the safe, and proceeded to the
front room. Wolfe was still standing, scowling down at
her, and she was talking. She broke off as I entered and
turned to me. “You’re just in time, Buster. He’s trying
to tell me there may be no reward, and I never heard
of—what are you doing?”
I had picked up the stack of bills and was going to a
window. Putting the one on top side by side with the
one I had taken from the safe, one minute with the glass
settled it. I took the one from the bottom of the stack,
and one from the middle, and used the glass on them.
The Homicide Trinity 155
The same. I stuck the good one in my pocket and
crossed to them.
“There’ll probably be an award,” I told her. “Official.
They’re phonies. Counterfeit.”
Chapter 2
I told a friend of mine about this incident one day a
few weeks later, and when I got this far I asked her
to guess what Hattie’s reaction had been. “That’s
easy,” my friend said. “She accused you of taking good
bills from the package and substituting bad ones. You
should have known she would.” My friend couldn’t have
been more wrong, but I admit it was my fault. I hadn’t
drawn Hattie true to life. What Hattie actually said was,
“Of course they’re counterfeit. Why would he hide real
money in my parlor? And why would I bring it to Nero
Wolfe?”
“You knew they were phonies?” I demanded.
“I knew they must be.”
“You didn’t mention it.”
“Why should I? To you two great detectives? You
knew it too or you wouldn’t have examined them with a
magnifying glass.”
I shook my head. “I didn’t know it, I only suspected it.
I suspected it when I answered the bell just now and
found a T-man at the door. A T-man is a Secret Service
agent of the Treasury Department. He wanted to know
if a woman named Tamiris Baxter was here. I told him
no, that she was here this morning for ten minutes and
left her—”
“Tammy Baxter? Tammy was here?”
“Right. She wanted to know if you had been here and
I told her no. She left her phone number and asked me
to ring her if you came. Then the T-man asked if Hattie
156 Rex Stout
Annis had been here, and I told him I was against
answering miscellaneous questions, which is true, but
the thing was I had got curious about this stack of bills
and wanted to take a look. So he left and I came and
looked. Now you say you knew they were counterfeit.”
“Archie.” Wolfe was gruff. “You saw that man’s cre-
dentials?”
“Of course.”
“He asked for Miss Annis?”
“He asked if she had been here.”
“Why didn’t you bring him in?”
“Because he wanted to look at the bills. If they were
okay I saw no reason to let the T-man disturb a guest of
yours who appreciates Fritz’s coffee.”
The trouble was, she had finished with the coffee.
“Very well,” he said, “you have looked at them. Does
the Secret Service have a New York office?”
“Yes.” A list of the things any two-bit dick knows and
he doesn’t would fill a book.
“Call them and report. If Miss Annis leaves before they
arrive keep the bills, and of course they will want the
wrapping paper. Give her a receipt if she wants one.” He
turned and made for the office, shutting the door.
It didn’t stay shut long. I admit I could have stopped
her, by taking a step and stretching an arm, but I
thought he might at least have given her a chance to
thank him for the coffee. So I didn’t take the step until
she had the door open, and then went only to the sill.
Wolfe was in his chair behind his desk before he knew
she was there.
“Did you mean that?” she demanded. “Call the cops
and hand it over?”
“Not the cops, madam.” He was sharp. “The Secret
Service. I have a responsibility as a citizen. Counterfeit
money is contraband. I can’t let you walk out of my
house with it.”
She put a hand on the desk edge for a prop. “Boot-
licker,” she said. “The great detective Nero Wolfe just
a flunky for the cops. If Falstaff was here I’d apologize
to him. Maybe he wasn’t much of a hero, but he was no
toady. You can’t glare me down, the lady’s going to talk.
The Homicide Trinity 157
I found that stuff in my house, and I thought, I’d rather
just burn it than turn it over to the cops. I thought the
thing to do was find out who put it there and then go to
a newspaper. Finding a counterfeiter ought to call for a
reward. But I didn’t know how to find out because my
mind doesn’t work like that, so I thought I would get a
detective and split the reward with him, and I might as
well get the best, so I go to Nero Wolfe, and this is what
happens. Counterfeit money may be contraband, but
it’s not your counterfeit money, it’s mine, I found it in
my house, but what do you care, you want to suck up to
the cops, so you tell him to call them and report, and
keep the bills, and swaggle out. I spit at you. I don’t spit,
but I spit at you.” She about-faced. “You too. Buster? Is
this what you carried me in for?”
“Madam,” Wolfe said.
She whirled back. “Don’t madam me!”
“You have a point,” Wolfe said. “I reject your charge
of servility, but you have a point, and an interesting
one. I am not an officer of the law. Has a private citizen
the right to confiscate contraband? I doubt it. Even
if he has the right, is it a duty? Surely not. That coun-
terfeit money is yours until it is seized by public author-
ity. I confess to error, but I was prompted by
expedience, not sycophancy. I merely wanted to get
clear of a muddle. Now, confound it, you have raised a
point I can’t ignore, but neither can I ignore my obliga-
tion as a citizen. I offer a suggestion: Mr. Goodwin will
put the bills in my safe and go with you to your house
and investigate. You say you wanted to engage me to
identify and expose the counterfeiter; he will decide if
that is feasible without prolonged and expensive in-
quiry. If it isn’t I’ll return your property to you, but I
shall notify the Secret Service that I am doing so. In
either case, I shall expect no fee. You are not my client.
I am merely wriggling out of a muddle. Well?”
“We split the reward three ways,” she said.
“I have no interest in a reward.” He flipped a hand,
discarding it. “There probably won’t be any.”
“There had better be. I don’t need it, I’ve got enough
158 Rex Stout
to go on and then some, but I’ve never earned any
money and this is my chance. Keeping it in your safe,
that’s all right. I’m not going to apologize for what I said
until I see what happens.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to. Archie?”
I moved. The bills were still in my hand, but the
wrapping paper and string were on the chair. I went
and brought them, holding the paper by the comer. “A
question,” I said. “Since he hid it where it might possi-
bly be found he might have had sense enough not to
leave prints, but he might not. If not, I’ve got him right
here. I can find out in ten minutes, but it would be
tampering with evidence, and the question is, do I?”
“Of course,” Hattie said. “I thought of that but I