collection.” I stuck it in my pocket.
“You note,” he said, “that I am empowered to search
for the object specified if necessary.”
“You won’t have to. You heard me tell Cramer yes-
terday that I put it in the safe, and it’s still there. Come
in.” I gave him room.
He had excellent manners. He entered, removed his
hat, stood while I shut the door, and followed me to the
office. I swung the safe door open, got a comer of the
wrapping paper with my thumb and forefinger, carried
it dangling and put it on my desk, and went back and
brought the lettuce and the string. “There you are,” I
said. “I didn’t rewrap it after I lifted the prints.”
His lips tightened. “You said nothing to Inspector
Cramer about lifting prints.”
“No? I thought I had. Of course that was routine
after Miss Annis told us how and where she found it.
You won’t find any except hers and mine. I couldn’t, and
I was pretty thorough.”
“You tampered with evidence.”
“What was it evidence of—then?” My feelings were
hurt. “Anyway, the prints are still there. I’ll give you a
bag to carry it in, but first we’ll have to count it and I
want a receipt. It’s still the property of Miss Hattie
Annis.”
He opened his mouth and closed it again. It was a
situation. He knew that I knew that he knew that I
knew it was counterfeit, and therefore we both knew
that Hattie would never see it again, but he was still
keeping it off the record. “I’ll make a concession,” I
offered. “We’ll weigh it on the postal scale. Put it on.”
He picked it up and put it on the scale, and we looked.
Just under seventeen ounces. I brought a shopping bag
from the kitchen and gave it to him, got at the type-
writer, and tapped out a receipt for 16-11/12 oz. of
twenty-dollar bills. I was tempted to add “in good con-
dition,” but remembered that he had warned me not to
try any fancy tricks with the Secret Service. As I
194 Rex Stout
handed him the receipt and my pen the doorbell rang,
and I stepped to the hall.
It was Inspector Cramer. I went and opened the
door. He entered. I shut the door. When I turned his
hand was emerging from inside his coat with a folded
paper. He handed it to me. I read it through. It wouldn’t
be worth keeping as a souvenir—just the State of New
York.
“You’ll notice,” he said, “that I can search for it if I
have to.”
“You won’t have to. You know where it is.”
He strode to the office door and on in. I stopped on
the sill. Leach, at my desk, with the shopping bag in one
hand and the bills in the other, turned.
“It’s a problem,” I said. “Leach has signed a receipt
for it, but I can tear it up. Why don’t you split it half and
half?”
Cramer stood at arm’s length from the T-man. A
muscle in the side of his neck was twitching. “That’s
evidence in a murder case,” he said. “I have a court
order for it.”
“So have I,” Leach said. “From a Federal court.” He
put the bills in the bag, taking his time, and tucked the
bag under his arm. “If you’ll send a man to our office
he’ll be allowed to examine it, Inspector. We are always
ready to cooperate with the local authorities.”
He moved, detouring around Cramer. Cramer
wheeled and followed him, and I stepped aside to let
them by. As Cramer passed he gave me a glare that
would have withered a lesser man. I didn’t cooperate by
going to open the door because I wasn’t sure I could
keep my face straight, and when they were out and the
door had closed I quit trying. A whoop had wanted out
the second Cramer produced the paper, and now I let it
come. I laughed so loud and so long that Fritz appeared
at the kitchen door to ask what had happened.
There was no point in disturbing Wolfe in the plant
rooms, so I let it wait until he came down at eleven
o’clock. He never whoops, but when I reported and
showed him the court orders he allowed himself an
The Homicide Trinity 195
all-out chuckle and there was a twinkle in his eye. He
said it was just as well he hadn’t been present, since
Cramer would probably have accused him of staging it,
and I agreed. I said I was glad the stuff was out of the
house, and he agreed.
Calls came from Saul and Fred and Orrie during the
next half hour. Nothing promising. Orrie had spoken
with Max Eder, the janitor of the building, and three
other tenants. Fred had bought a squirrel and a kanga-
roo and had spent an hour in the workroom in the rear
of the shop. Saul hadn’t been inside the building that
contained the Mushroom Theater. From the outside it
looked as if it might collapse if you leaned against it. He
had spent the two hours covering the neighborhood.
When I relayed the reports to Wolfe, who was doing a
crossword puzzle in the London Observer, all I got was
a grunt. I had about decided it was time to go to work on
him when the doorbell rang and I went to answer it.
It was our lawyer and our client. I hadn’t told him to
bring her. I was in no mood for her, and Wolfe certainly
wasn’t. All I could tell her was that Wolfe either had an
inkling or hadn’t, and he was spending her money at the
rate of fifty bucks an hour. I went and opened the door
but occupied the threshold.
“Greetings,” I said heartily. “This is a relief! I’m
sorry we couldn’t make it sooner, Hattie, but Mr.
Parker did his best. You’ll take her home, Nat? I’m tied
up here.”
“Don’t call me Hattie,” she said, “until I find what
you’re up to.”
“I brought her here,” Parker said, “because she in-
sisted.” He looked harassed. “I’ll be going. I’ve canceled
two appointments and I’m late for another one. Let me
know if you need me.” He went.
“Every time I come here,” Hattie said, “there you
stand. What good does it do to open the door if you fill it
up?”
I stood aside and she entered. She took off the gray
woolen gloves and stuck them in her coat pocket, and
unbuttoned her coat, and I certainly would have been
196 Rex Stout
no good if I hadn’t helped her off with the coat, so I did,
and put it on a hanger. By the time I had it on the rack
she was at the office door, entering, and by the time I
got to the office she was in the red leather chair and
Wolfe was glowering at her.
“About that lawyer,” she said. “I’m not going to pay
him too, and I told him so. When I told Buster I could
pay forty-two thousand dollars that includes every-
thing.”
Wolfe looked at me. I nodded. “All right. I told you I
was under a spell. I scaled it down.”
He looked at her. “Very well, madam, I’ll pay the
lawyer. You came to tell me that?”
“I told you before not to madam me. First I want to
see that counterfeit money, then I’ll know I can trust
you. Show it to me.”
Wolfe looked at me. I have seen him handle many a
crisis, but that was too tough for him. “Archie?” he said.
I opened my desk drawer, took out three sheets of
paper, and went and handed her one of them. “A cop
named Cramer brought that,” I said. “Signed by a
judge, ordering us to give him the bills and the wrap-
per. Cramer knows Mr. Wolfe and me and doesn’t like
us. When he handed me that he sneered.”
“I thought so. You’re no good. So you—”
“Wait a minute. We had been afraid that would hap-
pen. The cop was too late.” I handed her another paper.
“A man had already come with that, signed by a Fed-
eral judge, and I had turned the money over to him, so
the cop was out of luck. I don’t say we had arranged it,
but facts are facts. The cop was so sore he marched out
without a word.” I handed her the third paper. “That’s
the receipt the man signed.”
She hadn’t even glanced at any of the documents. She
handed them back. “I wish I had been here,” she said.
“So do I, Miss Annis. You would have enjoyed it.”
“Call me Hattie.”
“With pleasure.” I returned the papers to the drawer
and sat. “Did you have a hard night?”
“Not too hard. There was a couch and I got some