Hannah moved their own, beyond her. Wolfe’s eyes
went from left to right and back again.
“Go ahead, Martha,” Paul Hannah said. “This was
your idea.”
“No,” Martha said, “it was Hattie’s idea.” She was
still ornamental, and the dimples were still there, but
she didn’t look up to making an omelet of larks’ eggs.
She turned her face to me and then to Wolfe. “It’s
crazy,” she said. “The idea that Hattie— It’s just crazy.”
“She doesn’t mean,” Noel Ferris explained, “that
Hattie’s idea is crazy, she means the idea that Hattie
killed Tammy Baxter. Hattie’s idea was that we should
come and see you.”
“According to Martha,” Paul Hannah said.
“Idiot children,” Raymond Dell rumbled. His hat had
pressed his white mane down, but it was starting to
unfurl. “Snapping and yapping in the face of tragedy.”
“Death isn’t tragedy,” Ferris said. “Life is tragedy.”
“Was it Miss Annis’s idea,” Wolfe inquired, “that you
180 Rex Stout
should come and expound philosophy to me? Miss Kirk.
I gather that she spoke with you?”
Martha nodded. “She spoke to me. She said she had
hired you and Mr. Goodwin to make the cops eat dirt,
and we must come and tell you everything we had told
the cops.”
“When did she hire you?” Hannah demanded. His
chubby pink cheeks were a little saggy.
Wolfe ignored him and kept his eyes at Martha.
“What else did she say?”
“Nothing. She couldn’t. I was coming downstairs,
and they were carrying her out, and she saw me and
said that, and I said we would. Of course I couldn’t tell
the others then, they were still questioning us, but I did
as soon as they left.”
“They were carrying her literally? Bodily?”
“Yes. Two men.”
“Had they forced the door of her room?”
“Yes.”
Wolfe grunted. “Possibly actionable. For the record,
Miss Annis is my client, but my job is not as she defined
it. I have engaged to investigate the murder that was
committed in her house.”
“It wasn’t committed by her,” Martha declared. “But
they’ve arrested her. It’s crazy!”
“It was committed by a sex maniac,” Paul Hannah
said. “Twice last week a man followed her right to the
door. When she told me about it I offered to ambush
him, but she said no, if he did it again and came close she
would handle him. She would, too.”
Noel Ferris twisted his lip. “Lochinvar Hannah,” he
drawled. “These sex maniacs are damn clever. Of
course getting in wasn’t much, he could have a bag of
assorted keys, but getting the knife from the kitchen
was a real stroke. We know he did because you identi-
fied it.”
“You keep harping on that.” Hannah’s cheeks were
pinker. “Certainly I identified it, with that nick in it. I
supposed you all would. I knew Hattie would.”
“I did.” Martha said.
The Homicide Trinity 181
Ferris turned a hand over. “Then I should have too. I
was too sentimental, I always am. I had a vague notion
that it would be better to leave it plausible that the
knife was a stranger. Also I am too sensitive. I couldn’t
bear the thought that the knife I had sliced ham with
had been . . .” He finished it with a gesture, an actor’s
gesture.
Raymond Dell snorted. “Adolescent imbeciles! All
three of you! We came here to serve a friend in whose
debt we are, not to prattle. Tammy Baxter was new in
that house, not yet of us. For all we know, Hattie may
have had reason to fear her beyond endurance. In a
frenzy of fear, in the panic of desperation, she killed her.
That is quite possible. We know that Hattie was not
herself. We thought her incapable of guile, but she
brought this man Goodwin, a professional detective—
she brought him there and presented him to Martha
and me in false colors.”
Ferris’s brows were up. “But you came here to serve
her?”
“I did.” Dell’s boom would have carried to the gallery
if there had been one. “Whether she killed or not,
whether she was wise to trust her fate to this man
Wolfe and this man Goodwin—we are not to judge. We
can only ask, what can we do or say to help her?” His
deep-set blue-gray eyes focused on Wolfe. “And we can
only ask you.”
Martha Kirk put in, “Hattie said we should tell him
everything we told the cops.”
Wolfe shook his head. “That may not be necessary. I
hope not.” He cleared his throat. “It has already been of
some slight help to sit and listen to you; that is inherent
in the situation. When four people are conversing in my
presence and I know that one of them committed mur-
der less than twelve hours ago, I would be a dolt to get
no inkling at all. Look at you now—your reaction to
what I just said. You are all staring at me. One of you
opened his mouth to interrupt, but closed it. None of
you glances at the others, or at any other. But I know
that one of you is feeling the pinch. He is asking himself,
182 Rex Stout
are my eyes all right, how about my mouth, should I say
something? He is aware, of course, that it will take
more than an inkling to undo him, but an inkling can
give me a start.”
It wasn’t giving me one. They all kept their stares at
him. Martha’s lips were parted, and Ferris’s were
twisted. Paul Hannah’s jaw was working. Dell’s chin
was up and he was frowning. Ferris demanded, “You
know it was one of us? How?”
“Not by an inkling, Mr. Ferris. There is the knife, and
there is my conviction, on grounds that satisfy me, that
Miss Annis didn’t use it, but that isn’t all. I prefer not to
disclose why she took Mr. Goodwin to her house in
masquerade; though one of you has certainly guessed
why I’ll leave it a guess.” He flattened his palms on the
chair arms. “And now we may proceed. Three of you
came here to help a friend, and one of you came because
he didn’t dare to refuse; nor will he dare to refuse to
answer my questions; and I expect him to expose him-
self. If he has already exposed himself to the police we
are wasting our time, but I’ll proceed on the assumption
that he hasn’t. If I fail, it will be because I haven’t asked
the right questions, and I don’t intend to fail.”
His head turned. “Mr. Dell. Have you paid your room
rent for the past three months?”
Chapter 6
Raymond Dell’s chin lifted another quarter of an
inch. “We could all refuse,” he said.
Wolfe nodded. “You could indeed. If you
think that would serve your friend in whose debt you
are. Shall I try the others?”
“No. As for that question, if Hattie is your client you
could ask her. Perhaps you already have. I have paid no
room rent for three years and she has asked for none.”
Wolfe’s head moved. “Miss Kirk?”
She was still staring at him. “The cops didn’t ask me
that,” she said.
Wolfe grunted. “They have their technique and I
have mine. That question applies to the problem as I
see it. Does it embarrass you?”
“No. I have lived there nearly a year and I have paid
five dollars every week.”
“From current income?”
“I haven’t any current income. I get a check from my
father every month.”
“I trust it doesn’t embarrass him. Mr. Ferris?”
Noel Ferris passed his tongue over his lips. “How
this applies is beyond me,” he said, “but I don’t dare to
refuse to answer. I haven’t figured how I stand on rent,
but you can. I’ve had a room there for eighteen months.
Last summer I was on television for thirteen weeks and
I gave Hattie a hundred and fifty dollars. A show I was
in flopped in November, and since then it has been
television crumbs. Two weeks ago I gave her sixty
dollars. You figure it.”
“You’re a hundred and eighty dollars short. Mr.
Hannah?”
Paul Hannah was looking determined. “I’m not tak-
184 Rex Stout
ing any dare,” he blurted. “You may think your ques-
tion applies, but I don’t. You say you know one of us
killed Tammy Baxter, but I don’t believe it. I know
damn well I didn’t. You don’t kill someone without a
reason, and what was it? She had only been there three
weeks and we barely knew her. The knife doesn’t prove
anything. Whoever killed her got in the house some-
how, and if he was in the house he could have got the
knife. I’m not taking any dare.”
Wolfe shook his head. “Your spunk is impressive, Mr.
Hannah, but it bounces off. If you are innocent the
question whether you’ll take a dare doesn’t arise; the