Over My Dead Body by Rex Stout

“I understand,” said the secretary with ice still in her voice box, “that it is perfectly legal to help anyone go anywhere they want to, provided they have not committed a crime.”

“I don’t give a damn,” Driscoll declared, “whether it’s legal or not! To hell with legal!”

“Okay.” I pushed a palm at him. “Don’t yell so loud. The point –”

“I want you to understand –”

“Pipe down! I understand everything. You’re a hero. Skip it. Here’s the way it stands. You can’t go ahead and send her on a world cruise, because to begin with you don’t stand a chance of getting her out of here and away, and to end with I won’t let you. Nero Wolfe wants to see her. Whatever Nero Wolfe wants he gets or he has a tantrum and I get fired. I have no idea whether she’s a very fine young woman or a murderer or what, but I do know that the next thing on her program is a talk with Nero Wolfe, and I’m in charge of the program.”

“I suppose,” said the secretary crushingly, “that you stand a chance of getting her out of here.”

“Chance is right,” I agreed grimly. “May I use your phone?”

She pushed it across the desk and I asked the anteroom employee to get me a number. In a moment I had the connection.

“Hello, Hotel Alexander? Let me talk to Ernie Flint. The house detective.”

In two minutes I had him.

“Hello, Ernie? Archie Goodwin. That’s right. How’s about things? Fine, thanks, everything rosy, I’m studying to be a detective. Not on your life. Say, listen, I’m pulling a stunt and I want you to do me a favor. Send a bellboy in uniform over to the Maidstone Building, Room 3259. Wait, get this. A small one, about five foot three, and not a fat one. With a cap on, don’t forget the cap. With a dark complexion if you’ve got one like that. Yep, dark hair and eyes. Good. Have him bring a parcel with him containing all his own clothes, everything, including hat. Right. Oh, not long. He can be back there within an hour, only you’ll have to give him another uniform. Oh, no. Just a stunt I’m pulling. I’m playing a trick on a feller. I’ll describe it when I see you. Make it snappy, will you, Ernie?”

I rang off, took the expense roll from my pocket, peeled off a ten, and tendered it to the secretary. “Here, run down to the nearest store and get a pair of black low-heeled oxfords that will fit her. Like what a bellboy might wear. Step on it.”

She looked critically at Carla’s feet. “Five?”

Carla nodded. Driscoll told the secretary:

“Give him back that money.” He got out his wallet and produced a twenty-dollar bill. “Here. Get a good pair.”

She took it, handed me mine, and went. She may have been chilly, but she wasn’t a goof.

Carla said, “I won’t go.”

“Oh.” I looked at her. “You won’t?”

“No.”

“Would you rather go to police headquarters and entertain the homicide squad?”

“I won’t – I want to go away. I must go away. Mr. Driscoll said he would help me.”

“Yeah, well, he wasn’t quick enough on his feet. Even after all his fencing lessons. Anyway, you would have been nabbed downstairs. Do you realize at all the kind of spot you’re inhabiting right now?”

“I realize –” She stopped to make her voice work. “I’m in a terrible fix. Oh – terrible! You don’t know how terrible!”

“Wrong again. I do know. Would I be staging a damn fool stunt like this to get you to Nero Wolfe if I didn’t?”

“It won’t do any good to take me to Nero Wolfe. I won’t talk to him. I won’t talk to anybody.”

Driscoll went over and stood in front of her. “Look here, Miss Lovchen,” he said, “I don’t think that’s a sensible attitude. If you don’t want to talk to the police, I can understand that. You may have a reason that’s absolutely commendable. But sooner or later you’ll have to talk to somebody, and if you’re not careful it will be a lawyer, and then you are up against it. From what I have heard of this Nero Wolfe …”

He was still jabbering away when the phone announced that the bellboy was in the anteroom.

I shooed Driscoll and Carla into Driscoll’s room and had the bellboy sent in to me. He looked about right, maybe an inch taller than her, but not too skinny or too husky. He was grinning because he could see it was a good joke. I opened the parcel for him while he took his uniform off, and handed him a couple of dollars and told him:

“Put your clothes on and sit here. It’s a nice view from the window. Maybe twenty minutes. A blue-eyed girl will come and tell you when to go. Return to the hotel and they’ll give you another uniform to work in. That two bucks was just for your trouble. Here’s a finif if its effect will be to keep your trap entirely closed regarding the fun we’re having. Okay?”

He said it was, and sounded believable. I gave him the five-spot, gathered up the uniform and cap and wrapping paper, and went to the other room, shutting him in.

Carla, on the edge of the chair, and the secretary, kneeling on the rug in front of her, were busy getting her shoes changed, while Driscoll, with his lips screwed up and his hands in his pockets, gazed down at the operation. Carla stood up and stamped, and said they were all right. I handed the uniform to her and said go ahead but she would have to take off her clothes or it would look bunchy, and told Driscoll:

“Turn your back.”

He blushed rosy. “I … I can go in there –”

“I forgot you’re modest. Suit yourself. Backturning will do me.”

He went and looked through a window, and I, facing the same way, regarded him suspiciously. It was getting dark outdoors and the lights were on in the room, and under those circumstances a windowpane is a fairly good mirror. I admit I may have been doing him an injustice. I spread the wrapping paper out on his desk and, when the secretary handed me Carla’s clothes, including coat and hat, made a bundle and got it tied up.

The secretary said, “Look, it’s tight around under the arms.”

I looked. “Naturally. What would you expect? I think it’ll do. Walk to the door and back.” Carla walked. I frowned. “The hips are bad. I mean they’re good, but you understand me. Put the cap on … No, you’ll have to stuff the hair under better than that. There by the left ear. That’s it. I believe we’ll make it. What do you think?”

The secretary said coldly, “I hope so. It’s your idea.”

Driscoll crabbed, “It’s no good. I’d know her across the street.”

“Oh,” I said sarcastically, “we wouldn’t try to fool you. There’s hundreds of people going and coming in that lobby and why should they be interested in a bellboy? Anyway, we’ll take a shot at it.” I got the parcel under my arm and confronted Carla. “Now. We have nothing to fear on this floor. We’ll go down in the same elevator. You’ll leave the elevator before me at the main floor. Walk straight to the Lexington Avenue entrance and on out, and don’t look behind or around. I’ll be following you all right. Turn right and keep going on across 43rd Street. Between 43rd and 42nd there’ll be taxis at the curb. Hop into one and tell the driver to take you to 37th Street and Tenth Avenue –”

The secretary put in an oar: “You’ll be with her –”

“I’ll be behind her in another taxi. There’s a chance that one of those birds in the lobby knows me and will be curious enough to follow me out, in which case I don’t want to be seen going for a ride with a bellboy, especially a bellboy with hips. 37th Street and Tenth Avenue. Got that?”

Carla nodded.

“Okay. Stay there in the taxi till I come. I’ll probably be right behind you, but you stay there. If you try a trick, you’re done. Every cop in New York is looking for you. Understand?”

“Yes, but I want – I must –”

“What you want is a different matter entirely, like the guy that fell out of the airplane. Will you go to that corner and stay there in the taxi?”

“Yes.”

“Right. Good-bye, folks. In ten minutes, not sooner, send the bellboy home. I’ll take you on with the épée some day, Driscoll.”

He looked as if he was about ready to cry as he shook hands with her. The secretary looked as arctic as ever, but I noticed her voice was a little husky as she wished Carla good luck.

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