I was mildly peeved at Nathaniel Parker. It had been agreed that he and Mrs. Jaffee would come fifteen or twenty minutes early for a policy caucus, and instead of that they were the last to arrive, ten minutes late. Presumably, judging from their manner, they had dined together, and there was no law against that; and also presumably Parker thought a caucus not essential since Wolfe would take charge anyway; but their tardiness made it harder for me. I had no help from Wolfe, since it was his custom, when a gathering was expected, to stay in the kitchen until everyone had assembled.
By the time Parker and Sarah Jaffee showed up the air had got a little thick. The Softdown quintet had not come in a body, but had immediately formed one, collecting over in the corner by the couch and conversing in undertones. When I introduced Eric Hagh and his attorney, Irby, to them, there was no handshaking — for one thing the Softdown group was too surprised. I offered no explanation of Irby’s and Hagh’s presence, and wasn’t asked for one. I did offer drinks, but nobody wanted any. Then Andy Fomos came, and after I had introduced and identified him he mixed himself a long one of white wine and soda and stood apart, sipping his drink and glowering around as if deciding which neck to break first. None but mine, and maybe Hagh’s, would have been any problem for him. As for me, I had told Wolfe I would have tools handy, and I had — a snub-nosed Farger on my hip and a rubber silencer in my jacket pocket. It didn’t seem likely that Wolfe could bring it to a boil at that meeting, but if he did there was no telling who would start what, and I had already had a shoe scuffed.
When Fritz ushered Parker and Sarah Jaffee into the office she stopped just inside the door and looked around. It was the first time I had seen her in artificial light, and she was an attractive sight, with her face a little flushed, in a white summer dress and white slippers, and with a little white bag dangling from her hand. Perry Helmar called her name and started for her, but I intercepted him and got to her and Parker, and claimed attention to pronounce names. Of course none of them had ever seen Parker before, and Irby and Hagh had never seen Sarah Jaffee. Hagh kissed her hand. He had not kissed Viola Duday’s hand. Apparently she thought it wasn’t a bad idea, from the way she took it, and I admit he was more presentable than he had been that afternoon, now that he was combed and shaved and in a clean white suit and shoes. I maneuvered Perry Helmar into the red leather chair, got the others disposed according to plan, and went to Wolfe’s desk and pushed the button, one long and two short.
Wolfe marched in. On account of the crowd, he had to bear right to the wall and follow it to his chair. He stood.
“Archie?” he said.
I identified the four he had never seen. “Miss Viola Duday, formerly assistant to the president of Softdown, Incorporated, and now assistant secretary. Jay L. Brucker, president. Bernard Quest, been with the business sixty-two years, sales manager for thirty-four and vice-president for twenty-nine. Oliver Pitkin, secretary and treasurer of the corporation.”
Wolfe inclined his head a full half an inch, for him an elaborate bow, and sat. Before he got satisfactorily adjusted in his chair, which with him took some engineering, Perry Helmar spoke.
“I have prepared a statement,” he announced, “which I would like to read.” His square jaw was jutting beyond the call of duty. He held a paper in his hand.
“How long is it?” Wolfe asked him.
“Three or four minutes.”
“Go ahead.”
Helmar adjusted his metal-rimmed glasses, lifted the paper to range, and read:
“Statement by Perry Helmar, June twenty-sixth, nineteen fifty-two. Speaking for myself and of my knowledge, I challenge the propriety of participation by the private detective named Nero Wolfe in any discussion of the affairs of Priscilla Eads, deceased, or of any matters relating to her, including her death. I base this challenge on the fact that the said Nero Wolfe, by his concealment from the undersigned of the presence in his house, on June twenty-third, nineteen fifty-two, of the said Priscilla Eads, and by his gross and premeditated deception of the undersigned, contributed to her peril and thereby became to a considerable degree responsible for her death by violence. The full details of his deception have been supplied to the District Attorney by me in a signed statement, and a copy of that statement is attached hereto in support of this challenge. I contend that Nero Wolfe is unfit and unworthy to share in any examination of any matters connected with Priscilla Eads.
“Speaking for myself and my four associates, Bernard Quest, Jay L. Brucker, Oliver Pitkin, and Viola Duday, after discussion among us and full agreement, we denounced the said Nero Wolfe for his instigation of an unwarranted attack upon us by Mrs. Sarah Jaffee. We declare that said instigation was prompted by malice, and that the threat of legal action on behalf of Mrs. Jaffee is an unjustified, unprovoked, and reprehensible attempt at coercion. We note that Counselor Nathaniel Parker, who has in the past been associated with Nero Wolfe in many matters, is acting for Mrs. Jaffee, and regard that fact as significant and indicative of the nature of this attempt at coercion, and we demand the right to interview Mrs. Jaffee privately before entering into any discussion with Counselor Parker, and particularly any discussion to which Nero Wolfe is a party.”
Helmar lowered the paper. “That is a joint demand,” he declared aggressively.
“May I say—” Nat Parker began, but Wolfe showed him a palm.
“If you please, Mr. Helmar. There is no question of your right to interview Mrs. Jaffee privately, nor is there any question of Mr. Parker’s right, and mine, to advise her not to talk with you people except in our presence. The only question is how she feels about it herself. Mrs. Jaffee, do — no. You ask her.”
Helmar turned left. He was in the red leather chair, and the other four of the Softdown contingent were on chairs forming an arc running from him in the general direction of my desk. Sarah Jaffee was on the couch. Nearby was Eric Hagh, and beyond him were the two lawyers, Irby and Parker. Andy Fomos was off by himself, over by the bookshelves.
Helmar addressed Mrs. Jaffee. “You wouldn’t talk to me on the telephone, Sarah. You have known me all your life. I held you in my arms when you were a baby. Have you ever known me to do anything unfair or dishonest or wicked?”
“Yes,” Sarah said. She used more breath than she intended and it caused a sort of explosion, but it was certainly audible.
It rocked Helmar. His eyes popped. “What? Did you say yes?”
“Yes, I did. You did all of those things to Pris. You didn’t love her or understand her, and you were bad for her.” She lifted her chin a little. “I want to say one thing. I haven’t been coerced to do this by Mr. Wolfe or Mr. Parker. I am doing it because I want to, and it was Mr. Archie Goodwin who made me want to. It wouldn’t do the slightest good for you to talk with me, Mr. Helmar, or any of the others, so forget it.”
“But, Sarah, you don’t understand!”
“I think I do. And what if I don’t?”
“Skip it, Perry,” Viola Duday snapped. “She’s hopeless.”
“Does anyone else,” Wolfe inquired, “have a statement to read?”
Parker put in, “I advise Mr. Helmar not to leave copies of his lying around. It is clearly libelous, as he must know.”
Wolfe nodded. “He’s upset and not strictly accountable.” His eyes moved left to right and back again. “I could reply to Mr. Helmar’s indictment of me, but it would take time, and we should get on. First I’ll make one thing clear — my status in this business. I have been engaged to investigate the murder of Priscilla Eads, and that is my sole interest.”
“By Sarah Jaffee?” Helmar demanded.
“No. My client’s identity is not your concern. In my opinion it is entirely proper for Mrs. Jaffee, as a stockholder in the corporation, to bring the action contemplated, but that will be determined not by my opinion or yours, but by a court. It is certainly proper to submit the matter to a court for decision, and that is what will be done tomorrow morning unless developments here this evening make it unnecessary.”
“What developments would make it unnecessary?” That was Oliver Pitkin. Evidently his cold was no better, since he was still sniffling.
“Any of several. For instance, my discovery of the identity of the murderer.”
Wolfe’s eyes moved deliberately, and other eyes met them. He prolonged it, and no one moved or spoke. “Though I confess,” he said, “that I expect no such happy expedition. Another possible development would be for me to conclude, after inquiry, that none of you five people was involved in the murder. Since Mrs. Jaffee’s action is grounded on the possibility that one or more of you was involved, and is intended solely to prevent a culprit from profiting from a crime, such a conclusion would make the action needless. The purpose of this meeting is that inquiry by me.”
“The purpose of this meeting,” Helmar contradicted, “is an explanation by you and Counselor Parker of this whole outrageous proceeding!”
Wolfe’s gaze pinned him. “Do you really mean that?”
“I certainly do!”
“Then get out.” He waved a hand. “Out! I’ve had enough of you!”
They didn’t move, except their heads, to exchange looks.
“Before you go,” Wolfe said, “here’s a piece of information for you. I am told that you are now claiming — specifically you, Mr. Helmar — that the document signed by Priscilla Eads, then Priscilla Hagh, giving her husband a half-interest in her property, is spurious. That is why Mr. Irby is here, and why his client, Mr. Hagh, has come to New York.” He focused on Helmar. “If you accuse me of deception, sir, I accuse you of an impudent he in an attempt to defraud. In this room Monday evening Miss Eads told Mr. Goodwin and me categorically that she had signed that document, and of course you knew—”
“Bravo!” Eric Hagh was out of his chair and moving, pulling an envelope from his pocket. “There is honesty for you, gentlemen!” He waved the envelope. “Here it is! Here it is!”
He may not, judging from his looks, have inherited the South American tendency to exuberance, but he sure had caught it, and there and then someone caught it from him. Andy Fomos bounced up, dashed across, confronted the Softdown team, and boomed, “And before you go you will listen to me! She was going to make my wife a director! And now they are both dead! What can you do, what can you do to make it fair and honest? What you can do is make me a director and pay me what she was going to pay my wife!” He shook a fist, and I got to my feet, but he gave up the fist to point a finger at Viola Duday. “And what were you doing, coming last week to have a secret talk with my wife!” He swung the finger to aim it at Brucker. “And what were you doing, the same thing, coming to talk with her? To ask her to be a director? Huh? Now you can ask me to be a director! There is no—”
“Archie!” Wolfe called sharply. I was already advancing. Others besides Hagh and Fomos were out of their chairs, making a jumble but no tumult.
I got Fomos back to his corner without serious resistance, and, returning, addressed the Softdown group. “Are you folks leaving or not? If you are, this way out. If not, you must be thirsty, and what will it be?”
“Bourbon and water for me,” Viola Duday said promptly.
Wolfe rang for Fritz, and he came in to help, and Eric Hagh offered his services. There was some moving around during the process of serving, and when it was over I noticed that Hagh had homesteaded on the couch with Sarah. Andy Fomos was the only customer for the wine. Wolfe, of course, had beer. I had myself a tall glass of water — not that I don’t like something with more authority in off hours, but that hour was far from off. What I wasn’t getting in my notebook I was filing in my bean for future reference, and with that bunch I had no faculties to spare.
The idea of a Softdown walkout got no further mention. When all had been refreshed, Helmar stuck his jaw out and began, “On the question of the authenticity of that—”
Wolfe cut him off. “No, sir,” he said emphatically. “Your notion of the purpose of this meeting, and Mr. Hagh’s notion, and Mr. Fomos’s notion, are all different and all wrong. The purpose is an inquiry by me to try to learn whether any or all of you are implicated in the murder of Priscilla Eads. If I decide that you are not, the action by Mrs. Jaffee will be forgone. If I decide that you are or probably are, the action will be pursued.”
“This is fantastic,” Helmar declared. “We submit to trial on a charge of murder, before you as judge and jury?”
“No, not as you put it. I may not apply sanctions; I have no electric chair in readiness. But if Mrs. Jaffee asks for an injunction, and you dispute it, and the court hears arguments, the degree of probability that one or more of you is implicated in murder will be a major point at issue and will be debated in court. That would be a disagreeable experience for you, and you may be able to prevent it by debating it here, privately, this evening. Do you want to try? If you do, we’d better start. It’s ten o’clock.”
They looked at one another. “What do you mean by inquiry?” Viola Duday demanded. “Do you mean you question us on anything you please, as the police have? Each of us has spent hours, many hours, with the police.”
Wolfe shook his head. “That would take days. I will want to ask some questions — for instance, I shall ask you about the secret talk which Mr. Fomos says you had last week with his wife — but not too many. I propose another method. I suggest an exposition from each of you. You have all been questioned exhaustively by the police, and so should have all pertinent facts and considerations freshly and clearly in mind. Put it this way: I say to you, Miss Duday, there is a suspicion current that you had something to do with the murder of Priscilla Eads, and also of Margaret Fomos, and even that you may have actually committed those crimes with your own hands. What have you to say to remove or discredit that suspicion? You may have half an hour. Well?”
“That’s a subtle and dangerous trick, Viola,” Helmar warned her.
“How dangerous to the innocent?” Wolfe demanded.
Miss Duday took a sip of her bourbon and water, which was half gone. When she swallowed, a ripple ran down her scrawny neck. There was no sign of lipstick on her. “I think I’ll take a chance on the danger,” she said in her clear, pleasant voice, “though I doubt if I’ll need half an hour. I don’t suppose you know, Mr. Wolfe, that in my case the motive was much less weighty than with the others. It is true that I’ll get a large block of stock, as they will, but they can outvote me and push me out if they feel like it. Whereas if Priscilla had lived I would soon have been the active head of the corporation, in complete control. That seems pertinent?”
Wolfe nodded. “Mr. Goodwin told me of your comment to him, and Mrs. Jaffee was told by Miss Eads that she intended to make you president. Did you know that Mrs. Fomos was to be a director?”
“Yes. That was because Priscilla wanted all the directors to be women, and we wanted five. She and I and Sarah Jaffee would be three, and a Miss Drescher, a superintendent at the factory, a fourth, and we wanted another, and Margaret had been with Priscilla a long time and was very devoted to her, and we thought it could do no harm and would be a nice gesture.”
“That was the only reason?”
“Yes. I will say that I was not enthusiastic about it. Important matters, trade secrets and plans for future operations, are discussed at directors’ meetings, and if Margaret attended them naturally she would hear everything. Priscilla trusted her completely, and I had no reason to doubt her, but I wanted to know more about her relations with her husband. Women who are reliably discreet in all other respects will blab anything and everything to their husbands. That was why I went to Margaret’s home one evening last week, to meet her husband and talk with both of them and see how they were together. There was nothing secret—”
“No!” Andy was loose again. He came tearing over, declaiming en route. I met him. He decided to come right on through me, and I had either to dive to keep from being trampled or dispose of him, and, choosing the latter, I overestimated his momentum and weight. The result was that my arm twist and hip lift not only repulsed him, they tumbled him and sent him rolling. By the time he got up and started for me I had a chair between us and was displaying the silencer in my hand.
“Hold it, Junior,” I told him. “I don’t want to bust a knuckle on you, but I think it’s time for your nap. Sit down and stay sat, or else.” Keeping a corner of an eye on him, I asked Wolfe, “Do you want to let him recite?”
“Not now. We’ll see later. Go on, Miss Duday.”
She waited for Fomos to return to his chair, then resumed. “My call on Margaret Fomos and my talk with her had no significance whatever other than what I have said. I was talking about motive. Should I deal further with that?”
“Whatever you think might help.”
“It will be difficult without giving a false impression, but I’ll try. I don’t want to give the impression that I think it probable that one of my business associates is a murderer, but facts are facts. Although Priscilla was not fond of me personally, she had great confidence in my intelligence and ability. Also she thought that women should have more positions of power in all fields. And in addition, when she decided some eighteen months ago to take an interest in the affairs of Softdown and learn the ropes, she resented it that the men — and especially the four men present here — treated her with what she regarded as servility but did not conceal—”
Two of them made noises. She halted. Wolfe darted a glance at them. They subsided.
“But did not conceal their doubt of her ability to understand the mysterious process of making and selling towels. If I shared their doubt at all I had brains enough not to show it, and Priscilla appreciated that. More and more she came to me, and only to me, for her lessons and experience. The result was that I had reason to expect great personal advantage from her approaching assumption of ownership and active control. As for what these men had to expect, they can tell you that.”
She twisted her lips, considering. “I might add this. In nineteen forty-one when Mr. Eads was alive and I was assistant to the president, my salary was forty thousand dollars. Last year, nineteen fifty-one, with Mr. Helmar in control as trustee, it was eighteen thousand. Priscilla told me that my beginning salary as president would be fifty thousand. Mr. Brucker’s is sixty-five.”
Wolfe grunted, a little peevishly I thought, possibly at the news that a mere towel merchant was making half as much as him. He asked, “Did these gentlemen know that Miss Eads intended to put you in charge?”
“I’d rather let them answer that. Except — if they say no, may I speak to it?”
“Yes. Go on, Miss Duday.”
“Well — as for opportunity, I understand that the theory is that the same person killed both of them, and that Margaret Fomos was killed after half-past ten, and Priscilla was killed before two o’clock. During those three and a half hours I—”
“If you please,” Wolfe cut in. “We won’t spend time on that.”
“No?” Her brows went up.
“No. If one of you has an invulnerable alibi and it has been checked by the police, he can afford to tell me to go to the devil and will surely do so. Moreover, an alibi would convince me of nothing. Consider the crimes. Mrs. Fomos was waylaid on a street at night, dragged or propelled into a vestibule, strangled, and her bag taken. In the bag were keys. Using one of them, the murderer gained access to the apartment of Miss Eads, lay in ambush, and upon her entry struck her and strangled her. Looking at you, Miss Duday, I would think it highly doubtful that you committed those crimes as described, but there is no reason why you shouldn’t have contrived them. What would you have to pay? Ten thousand? Twenty? No, I’ll leave your alibi or lack of one to the police.”
He frowned at her. “As you see, we’re severely circumscribed. Motive requires no scrutiny; it blares and brandishes. Means is no problem — a piece of cord two feet long. Opportunity offers no path to a conclusion, since the murders may well have been vicarious, with enough at stake to make them worth planning and paying for. How can I harass you or devise a trap? The best I can do is induce you to talk, and hope for something. How are Mr. Helmar and Mr. Brucker getting along with Miss O’Neil?”
That started a minor commotion. Brucker, who had been letting himself sprawl some, jerked up straight. Pitkin emitted a sound that seemed to be the start of a giggle, but he stopped it. Helmar’s jaw fell and then closed and clamped.
Miss Duday kept her composure. “I really don’t know,” she said. “Of course this has changed the situation — temporarily, at least.”
“You told Mr. Goodwin that as soon as Miss Eads was in control Miss O’Neil would lose her job.”
“Did I? Well, now she won’t.”
“You also told Mr. Goodwin that she was playing Mr. Helmar and Mr. Brucker against each other. What was the connection between that fact and the murder of Miss Eads?”
“None that I know of.”
“No, that won’t do.” Wolfe was crisp. “Mr. Goodwin said he was there to investigate the murder, and you volunteered that information. You are much too intelligent to blatter irrelevancies. What was the connection?”
She smiled, a thin tight smile. “Goodness, am I cornered? Do you suppose in some dark crevice of my mind there was the thought that I wouldn’t dream of thinking either of those men capable of murdering for profit, but in their blind passion for that creature — there was no telling? And I blurted it out to Mr. Goodwin that day? Am I like that?”
“I couldn’t say.” Wolfe skipped it. “When and where did you last see Miss Eads?”
“One week ago today. Last Thursday afternoon, at the office.”
“What office?”
“The Softdown office at One ninety-two Collins Street.”
“What happened, and what was said? Tell me about it.”
Viola Duday hesitated. She opened her mouth, closed it again, and hesitated some more. Finally she spoke. “This is a detail,” she said, “where we acted like idiots — these four men and I. We had a discussion Tuesday afternoon — it was interrupted by your man, Mr. Goodwin, and we agreed on the account we would give of what had happened on Thursday. We knew that would come up in the investigation of the murder, and we agreed on what to say. It was the only time in my life I have ever been a complete fool. Miss O’Neil was present, because she had been concerned in the events of Thursday. Since she is totally brainless, it didn’t take a competent policeman more than ten minutes alone with her to tangle her up. In the end, naturally, they learned exactly what had happened Thursday, so I might as well tell you. Do you want it in full?”
“Full enough. I can always stop you.”
“Priscilla came downtown and had lunch with me. She said that she had talked with Sarah Jaffee the day before, and Sarah had refused to be elected a director, that she wouldn’t even come to a stockholders’ meeting on July first as we had planned. Priscilla and I discussed getting someone else for a fifth director, and other things. After lunch she went back to the office with me. It had got so it was always tense around that place when Priscilla was there, and that day it was worse than usual. I wasn’t in the room when the scene between Priscilla and Miss O’Neil started, so I don’t know how it began, but I heard the last of it. Priscilla told her to leave the building and not come back, and she refused to go. That had happened once before.”
“On the former occasion,” Mr. Brucker put in, “Miss Eads had been completely in the wrong.”
Viola Duday ignored him. She didn’t even spend a glance on him, but kept at Wolfe. “Priscilla was furious. She phoned Helmar at his law office and asked him to come, and when he arrived she told him and Brucker that she had decided to have a new board of directors and put me in as president. They called in Quest and Pitkin, and the four of them spent three hours trying to persuade her that I was incompetent and would ruin the business. I don’t think they succeeded. I know that when she left she came to my room and said it would be only eleven more days, and that she was going away for the weekend, and she shook hands. That was the last time I saw her.”
“As far as you knew, it was still her intention to make you president?”
“Yes. I’m sure it was.”
“Do you know that she came here Monday afternoon and spent some hours in this house?”
“Yes, I know.”
“Do you know what she came for?”
“I know nothing definite. I have heard conjectures.”
“I won’t ask you from whom or what. I am aware, Miss Duday, that in coming here this evening you people were impelled only partly by the threat of a legal action by Mrs. Jaffee. You also hoped to learn what Miss Eads came to see me for and what she said. I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint you. I have given a complete report to the police, or Mr. Goodwin has, and if they don’t care to publish it neither do I. But I will ask you, do you know of any reason why, on Monday, Miss Eads should have decided to seek seclusion? Was she being harassed or frightened by anyone?”
“On Monday?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know.” She bit her lip, regarding him. “Having no knowledge of it, I could only offer a guess.”
“Try a guess.”
“Well, I know that Perry Helmar had an appointment with her at her apartment for Monday evening. I learned that only yesterday. I know that these men were desperate, and they spent hours Monday at the Softdown office going through records for years back and compiling memoranda. I thought then that they were probably collecting evidence to prove my incompetence and demonstrate it to Priscilla, and I now think that Helmar made that appointment with her Monday, insisted on it, in order to show her that evidence and convince her that I could not be trusted. My guess is that if she decided to seek seclusion it was because they were pestering her, especially Helmar, and she had had enough of them.”
“Why especially Helmar?”
“Because he had more at stake. The others all help to run the business and could expect to continue to get good salaries after Priscilla took over. Helmar has had very little to do with the business operations, and is not an officer of the corporation, but he has been drawing forty thousand a year as counsel. He has actually earned perhaps one-tenth of it, if anything. After June thirtieth I doubt if he would have drawn anything at all, and—”
“That’s false, and you know it,” Helmar challenged her. “That’s utterly unfounded!”
“You’ll have your turn,” Wolfe told him.
“He can have it now.” Miss Duday was contemptuous. “That’s all I have to say — unless you have questions?”
“No. Well, Mr. Helmar? Go ahead.”
There was a polite interruption from Eric Hagh. He wanted a refill for his glass, and others were ready too, so there was a short recess. Hagh seemed to have got the impression that we were counting on him to keep Sarah Jaffee company, and I was too busy to resent it, but apparently Nat Parker wasn’t.
Wolfe poured beer from his third bottle, swallowed some, and prompted Helmar. “Yes, sir?”