“But not until after June thirtieth,” Bowen objected.
Wolfe nodded. “That’s a point, certainly, but it’s not inexplicable. Looking at his face, which appears rigid in paralysis, I doubt if he’ll explain for us, not now at least. I offer alternatives: some incident may have alarmed him and precipitated action, or he may not have known that if Miss Eads died before June thirtieth the Softdown stock, the bulk of her fortune, would go to others. I think the latter more likely, since he was offered, through Mr Irby, a cash settlement of one hundred thousand dollars and wouldn’t even discuss it.
“Another point should soon be clarified, whether Mr Muecke is persuaded to help or not. Did he arrange for the murders of Miss Eads and Mrs Fomos, or did he commit them himself? That can of course be established by inquiry in Caracas and of airline personnel. I think you’ll find that he did them himself. You should be able to verify his first flight to New York, and surely you will have no trouble with his return to Caracas, since he must have left New York on Tuesday to be in Caracas to speak with Mr Irby on the telephone on Wednesday. Also, he had to leave Caracas again Wednesday afternoon or evening to get back to New York Thursday, and we know he did that.”
Wolfe’s eyes fixed on Muecke, and he spoke to him for the first time. “For myself, Mr Muecke, there is no room for doubt. You set your pattern and kept to it with pigheaded constancy. You waylaid Mrs Jaffee, and struck and strangled her, exactly as you had done with Miss Eads, and previously with Mrs Fomos. I said you were no bungler, but the truth is —Archie!”
I had noticed once before, when he had slammed the door in my face, that Andy Fomos could move fast when he wanted to. He was out of his chair and across the room to our little group like a flying saucer. Apparently his idea was to do something to Muecke with his bare hands, as his personal comment on what Muecke had done to Mrs Fomos, but there was no time to analyze ideas, including my own. Now, at leisure, I can and I have, and to complete the record I report the results.
The question is, since the worst Andy Fomos could have done was to disfigure Muecke superficially, why did I want to interfere? Why didn’t I give him gangway and even block Purley? Why did I haul off and plug Andy’s iron jaw with so much behind it that he sailed through the air before he stretched out, and my wrist and knuckles were stiff for a week? The answer is, if I had touched Muecke I would have killed him, but I had to touch somebody or something, and Andy Fomos, bless his hundred and ninety pounds that made it really satisfactory, gave me the excuse.
Then Cramer was there, and Skinner, and I sidestepped to make room, and stood, licking blood from my knuckles and watching Purley get handcuffs on Siegfried Muecke.