“So you think you’re going to bounce him,” she said. “Because he works for you. Nuts. Tell me how.”
Wolfe shook his head. “I can’t. I don’t know. Manifestly you are satisfied that he’s guilty, and of course you have told the police why, but it hasn’t fully satisfied them. He is being held only as a material witness. If you care to, try to satisfy me. Why are you so sure?”
“Damn it, I warned her,” she said.
“You warned her that Mr. Cather would kill her?”
“No, but I warned her there was no telling what he would do. I suppose you know he wanted to marry another girl?”
“Yes.”
“So it was an ungodly mess, the kind people get into when a screw gets loose. They had a perfect setup, the damn fools. Whoever was paying her bills, she never told me who it was, he had a place with her in it whenever he needed a change, and you couldn’t beat that. She had the place to herself most of the time, and she had a man who did her good, and you couldn’t beat that. He had a woman who suited him, ready for him nearly any time, for nothing, and you couldn’t beat that. A perfect setup. But she decides she has got to marry him, and he decides he has got to marry some other dame, and even she has got a good job — an airline stewardess. You know that?”
“Yes.”
“So she could stay loose too if she had any brains. None of them had any brains. I warned Isabel she had better deal him out, he had the sweat up and might do anything, but she wouldn’t listen. She put the sting on him, and he killed her. When people’s brains quit working, just go somewhere else. But he killed her, and now he’ll have to go somewhere else.”
“You have told the police all this?”
“I sure have.”
“What if he didn’t kill her?”
“Nuts.”
Wolfe regarded her. Since his eyes were used to seeing me when they aimed at that chair, he had to adjust. “Do you ever gamble?” he asked her. “Do you like to bet?”
“That’s a silly question. Who doesn’t?”
“Good. Saul, what odds will you give Miss Jackson that Orrie Cather didn’t kill Isabel Kerr?”
Saul didn’t hesitate. “Ten to one.” He got his wallet from a pocket and took bills out. “A hundred to ten.”
“She may not have it. Will you—”
“I always have it.” She opened her bag, which she had put on my desk after picking it up from the floor, where she had dropped it while performing. “But who settles it?”
“The District Attorney,” Saul said. “A hundred to ten that he isn’t even tried. All right for Archie Goodwin to hold it?”
“No. Nero Wolfe.” She got up and handed Wolfe a bill, and Saul went with his. Wolfe checked Saul’s, five twenties, opened a drawer, and dropped them in. She went back to my chair, put her bag on my desk, and told Wolfe, “Now tell me why I have just lost ten bucks.”
He shook his head. “That must await the event. I merely wished to demonstrate that we are acting on a conclusion, not a conjecture. Do you have animus for Mr. Cather?”
“What’s animus?”
“Hostility. Hatred.”
“Of course not. I don’t hate anybody.”
“If he didn’t kill Miss Kerr, are you willing to lose that ten dollars?”
“Why not? It’s a bet.”
“Then if someone else killed her you would rather have him justly punished than Mr. Cather wrongfully punished?”
“Certainly.”
“Again, good. You and Miss Kerr were close friends. Except for the name of the man who was paying her bills, she confided in you. What kind of woman was she? That question is not at random; I need to know. What was she like?”
“She was a duck. She was a damn fine woman until she flapped about that square. She knew the game and she knew the score. She always had her dignity, all the way. She had a good big heart, but she never let it bleed. I’d rather not have any heart than have it bleeding around everywhere. One reason we were so close was that we both knew exactly what men are for and what they’re not for — until that Cather baboon popped up.”
“You know him?”
“No. I’ve never seen him and I don’t want to.”
Wolfe looked at the clock. “You must be back at a quarter past ten?”
“At ten past ten. I have to change.”
“Then we haven’t much time. I ask you to accept a hypothesis. Suppose you knew positively, no matter how, that he did not kill her. Then who did? Whom would you suspect?”
“That’s easy. The lobster, of course.”
“What? Lobster?”
“Excuse me. The man who was keeping her.”
“You don’t even know his name.”
“So what? He was shelling out around twenty grand a year. Maybe it was stripping him. Maybe he was hooking it. He found out about that Cather, and he killed her. That’s ABC.”
“Very well, I’ll consider it. But extend the hypothesis. Eliminate him too. Who then? Didn’t you and Miss Kerr have many mutual friends?”
“Yes. If you want to call them friends to be polite. Sure we did.”
“Suppose it was one of them. Which one?”
She pronounced a word which she should have kept to herself, since there was a lady present.
“Meaning?” Wolfe asked.
“Meaning I know them. You don’t kill someone unless you have a reason, and even if you have a reason you’ve got to have the guts. They don’t fit.”
“Not one?”
“No.”
“Will you give Mr. Goodwin or Mr. Panzer some of their names while he is showing you the orchids?”
“He can’t show me the orchids. I have to be going.”
“Perhaps tomorrow morning.”
“He’d have to bring them to me in bed. Spread them all over me. I’d like that, but he wouldn’t. In bed in the morning I’m no treat.”
“Then the afternoon. Have you ever met a Dr. Gamm?”
“Teddy?” She laughed. “Yes, I know Teddy. I guess he’s a pretty good doctor, but as a man you can have him. He got the idea he was going to make Isabel, and that was an idea. God knows what he’ll do for an idea now.”
“That one didn’t work?”
“Certainly not.”
“Have you ever met Miss Kerr’s sister? Mrs. Fleming?”
She nodded. “That beetle. Now there’s an idea. It’s not funny, either. I honestly believe she thought Isabel would be better off dead. All right, if it wasn’t Cather and it wasn’t the lobster, it was her.” She looked at the wall clock. “I’ve got to go.” She left my chair. “Come along. Why not? You can have a front table and I’ll spot you. I’ll announce you big. I’ll tell the suckers that Nero Wolfe in person is here and will take a bow. You can bow sitting down if you want to, they’ll stand on their chairs to see you. It will be a feather in my bra. Come along. The beer will be on the house.”
Wolfe’s head was tilted back to squint up at her. “I decline your invitation, Miss Jackson,” he said, “but I wish you well. I have the impression that your opinion of our fellow beings and their qualities is somewhat similar to mine.” He got to his feet. He almost never stands for comers or goers, male or female. And he actually repeated it. “I wish you well, madam.”
“Big man,” she said. She turned. “You come, Archie. That Panzer’s a rat.”
Chapter 9
Forty-seven hours later, at nine o’clock Thursday evening, Wolfe put his coffee cup down and said, “Four days and nights of nothingness.”
I put my cup down and said, “No argument.”