Homicide Trinity by Rex Stout

be sure of your forgetting until certain difficulties have

ended.”

“That’s pretty vague. Get your clothes on and we’ll

see.” I picked up the phone and dialed, and he started

toward me. I showed the gun, but he kept coming,

saying something, and I dropped the phone and moved

to meet him, and damned if he didn’t swerve around me

and dart for the phone. I had intended to tap him with

the gun, not caring for bruised knuckles, but his swerve

got him on the wrong side, so I took him from behind,

with my left arm hooked under his chin and my hip at

his rump, and levered him up and over. He landed on his

hands and knees nine feet away. I said, “Cut out the

horseplay and put your pants on,” and went to the

phone and dialed. After nine buzzes Wolfe’s voice came.

“Yes?”

“Me. Could we use fifty grand?”

A grunt. “In the box?”

“No. I haven’t got it yet. I’m in Hazen’s bedroom.

There are four people with me, two men and two

women, lined up against the wall. The four that came to

dinner last night. They were in this room looking for

something and hadn’t found it. Perdis just off—”

“One of them has Hazen’s key.”

“No. I had them strip and went through their clothes.

They say the maid let them in. She’s not here; of course

they greased her. Perdis just offered me fifty grand to

go away and forget I was here. I’ll split it with you. He

would probably double it.”

106 Rex Stout

“Pfui. Are you intact?”

“Sure. I’m calling just to tell you to expect us, say in

half an hour, maybe less.”

Silence. He would have to work, not tomorrow, but

now—and two women. Then: “I suppose I must,” and

he hung up.

Perdis had joined the others at the wall. As I cradled

the phone he spoke. “We will double it. One hundred

thousand dollars.”

“Skip it.” I moved to the foot of the bed. “What would

I tell my wife if I had one? You heard me tell Nero

Wolfe to expect us in half an hour, but you have a choice.

You can leave and go your ways and try to forget you

were here, and I’ll phone Inspector Cramer and report

this incident, omitting nothing. Or you can come and

talk it over with Nero Wolfe, and he may or may not

care to bother Cramer about it. You may have two

minutes to consider it.” I looked at my wrist.

“Listen, Mr. Goodwin,” Anne Talbot said. She had

her clothes on, and with or without them she was highly

ornamental. “We were looking for something that be-

longs to us. We’re not thieves. We’re respectable—”

I cut her off. “Sorry, but don’t waste it on me. I just

run errands. It’s either Nero Wolfe or the police. If you

pick Nero Wolfe there will be a slight delay because I

have a little chore to do in this room. You will take your

things and go downstairs and on out, and get two taxis.

You will get into one of the taxis and wait there in front

of the house, and have the other one there for me. I’ll be

down soon, probably in a couple of minutes. There’s one

complication: if you split and one or two of you prefer to

go somewhere else, I’ll phone the police immediately. I

would rather not, but I’d have to.”

Two of them, Perdis and Mrs. Oliver, started to

speak, but I shut them off and moved away from the

bed. Anne Talbot went to the bed and got her coat, and

Khoury went and held it for her, and then got his own.

Anne Talbot said to Perdis and Mrs. Oliver, “Is there

any alternative?” Perdis went and got Mrs. Oliver’s

The Homicide Trinity 107

coat and took it to her, and she went to the bed for her

bag.

Perdis was the last one out. When he had started

down the stairs I shut the door, put a chair against it,

went to the chest of drawers, a big heavy piece at the

left wall, and took out the bottom drawer. There was a

folded blanket in it. I squatted at the opening. The

board that the drawer slid on, solid, not a plywood

panel, was flush and snugly fitted, no play to it. I tried

to get its edge with my thumbnails; nothing doing. I got

out my pocketknife, stuck the point of the blade in the

crack at the center, just barely in, pried gently, and up

it came. The front edge of the board was beveled. Very

neat. I put my hand in, felt metal, got a finger under,

and here came the box. It was steel, anything but

flimsy, twelve inches by six and about two inches deep,

and weighed a good four pounds, with a lock not to be

opened with a nail file. I shook it and heard no move-

ment, which didn’t prove anything. With the board

down, I replaced the drawer, moved the chair away

from the door and opened it, and went to the head of the

stairs. No sound of voices from below. If I had gone

down and joined them in the hall carrying a steel box

which I must have found in Hazen’s room they would

have made quite a party of it. I descended a flight, stood

to listen half a minute, and went on down. They had

turned on the light in the lower hall. My hat and coat

were there on the floor. I put the Marley in the holster,

put on the hat and coat, slipped the box under the coat,

with my hand in my pocket holding it, turned out the

light, and opened the door.

They had followed instructions to a T. Two taxis

were there, and they were in the one in the rear, all four

of them. After glancing in I told the driver to follow my

taxi, went and got in and gave the driver the address,

and we rolled.

Chapter 6

When you mount the seven steps to the stoop

and enter the hall of the old brownstone on

West 35th Street, the first door on your left is

to what we call the front room, with the office door

farther along on that side. The walls and doors of the

front room and office are soundproofed. After convoy-

ing the company to the front room and telling them they

wouldn’t have to wait long, I returned to the hall, put

my hat and coat on the rack, proceeded to the office, and

put the box on Wolfe’s desk pad.

“Good timing,” I said. “In another hour or two they

would probably have found it.”

He reached to pass his fingertips along its edge. “You

haven’t opened it.”

“No. It’s a good lock. They’re in the front room, all

four. I gave them their pick, you or the cops, and they

preferred you. There’s nothing to add to what I told you

on the phone. Before I open it I want to register a guess.

Not that it’s what Hazen had on them, that’s a cinch. My

guess is specifically what he had on Mrs. Oliver. She

murdered her husband. Wait till you see her.”

He made a face. “This will be distasteful. Bring

keys.”

I went to the cabinet at the far wall, opened a drawer,

and made selections. Although I couldn’t qualify on the

witness stand as a lock expert, I know a Hotchkiss from

a Euler, and I can open your suitcase with a paper clip if

you’ll be patient. Moving the box to my desk, I sat and

started in. I had selected four types, little boxes of

assortments. In three minutes I eliminated the first

type, and in another three the second one. The third

The Homicide Trinity 109

seemed more promising, and I was getting hot when

Wolfe growled, “Get a hammer and screwdriver.”

As he spoke it clicked and I had it. I raised the lid. The

box was empty. I upended it for Wolfe to see. “Yeah,” I

said. “It sure is distasteful.”

He took in air, about a bushel, and let it out again.

“It’s just as well. It would probably have presented us

with a problem. More than one. I presume he decided it

was a mistake to tell his wife of it and removed the

contents. Elsewhere in the house?”

“I doubt it.”

“So do I.” He leaned back, closed his eyes, and pushed

his lips out. In a moment he pulled them in, and then out

and in, out and in. He was working. A minute passed,

two minutes, three. … He opened his eyes and

straightened up. “Lock the box and leave it on your

desk. Put the keys away. Have a gun in your hand when

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