“At Miss Rowan’s cabin. I have certified in writing that he is under arrest, that his movements are under my control, and that he is not to be molested without reference to me. The legal force of that document is questionable, but it will probably serve. Your other question?”
“What dented Sam Peacock’s skull?”
“A rock not much bigger than your fist. He was hit with it four or five times. It was found there on the ground about twenty feet from the car. Dr. Hutchins is sending it to the laboratory at Helena, but from his own examination he is certain it is the weapon. He says its surface is too rough for fingerprints. It could have been picked up anywhere. As you know, that’s rocky ground.”
“Has anybody got any ideas? Any you’ve heard about?”
“No. Except about you, of course. You were there, and you know how that is. In that note Wolfe says that you are irrevocably committed with me, and he thinks I am with you, and he’s right. I’m stuck with you, and I hope to God I don’t spend the rest of my life regretting it. After my talk with Wolfe I am completely satisfied that you didn’t kill Sam Peacock, but that doesn’t help much. It doesn’t help at all with the squeeze I’m in. Wolfe thinks the two murders are connected, Brodell and Peacock, and I suppose you do.”
“Certainly. Any odds you name, you’ve got a bet.”
“Why?”
“I’ll get to that.” I leaned back and crossed my legs. The chair was a big improvement on the stool in my cell. “Naturally you want to compare what I say with what Mr. Wolfe said. Starting where?”
“The day he came. If it’s more than I want, I’ll tell you.”
I talked. It required no special effort, since I was to reserve nothing relevant. The only point that needed consideration, as I went along, was whether this or that detail belonged in, and I gave most of them the benefit of the doubt and included them. One that I omitted was the phone calls to Saul Panzer; he was two thousand miles from Jessup’s jurisdiction. For the conversations, I gave him summaries of all of them except Wolfe’s with Sam Peacock Friday evening; I reported that verbatim. He was a good listener and interrupted with questions only twice, and he took no notes at all. I ended with the last two relevant conversations, mine with Peggy Truett on the dance floor and mine with Wolfe in the Museum.
“Then,” I said, “we went out to the car and opened the door, and there it was. I doubt if you need or want what happened next, since it’s relevant to me but not to the inquiry. I’m getting hoarse because my throat’s dry. The room service downstairs is none too good. Is there water handy?”
“I’m sorry. I apologize. I should have—” He was out of his chair. “Scotch or rye?”
I said just water would do but scotch would be welcome if it wanted in, and he went to a copper-colored refrigerator in a corner and took things out. A woman would have found only one flaw: he didn’t use a tray. I found none. When he returned to his chair there was on the desk in front of me a man-sized glass containing two ice cubes immersed in whisky, and a pitcher of water, and he had a glass too. I filled mine to the top, put the pitcher in his reach, took a healthy sip, and cleared my throat.
“That helps,” I said, and took another sip. “Now connecting the two murders. Of course the first point is that Mr. Wolfe and I want them to be connected, but there are other points. There at Farnham’s Friday evening Mr. Wolfe let them all hear him concentrate on Sam Peacock, and he made it obvious that he was by no means through with him. It could be that one of them knew that Sam had seen or heard something that Mr. Wolfe must not know about, but it doesn’t have to be. All of Farnham’s crowd were there last night, and one of them may have told somebody how Nero Wolfe had concentrated on Sam.” I took a swallow and put the glass down. “The shortest way to say what I’m saying is to repeat what Mr. Wolfe once told a man: ‘In a world of cause and effect, all coincidences are suspect.’ There were more than two hundred people there last night, maybe three hundred, and one of them was murdered, and which one was it? It was the man who had been alone with Brodell the two days before he was murdered and who was going to be worked on by an expert. I not only suspect that coincidence, I reject it.”
Jessup nodded. “So does Wolfe.”
“Sure. He thinks things through like me. Did my report match his fairly well?”
“Not fairly. Perfectly.”
“He has a good memory. This drink has reminded me that I’m hungry. When I smelled the Sunday dinner downstairs I decided to fast. Mr. Wolfe never talks business during a meal, but I do.” I rose. “May I open that carton?”
He said certainly, and I went and got it and put it on the desk. The knot looked complicated, and I borrowed his knife to cut the cord, opened the flaps, and unpacked. When I finished there was an imposing spread lined up on the desk:
1 can pineapple
1 can purple plums
10 (or more) large paper napkins
8 paper plates
1 jar caviar
1 quart milk
8 slices Mrs. Barnes’s bread
6 bananas
1 plastic container potato salad
4 deviled eggs
2 chicken second joints
1 slab Wisconsin cheese
1 jar pate de foie gras truffe
1 huckleberry pie
6 paper cups
2 knives
2 forks
4 spoons
1 opener combo
1 salt shaker
I said I hoped he was hungry too, and he said he had told Miss Rowan that he would also have me brought on Monday, if circumstances permitted.
“Of course,” he said, “there will be people coming and going tomorrow and it would be a little complicated. Miss Rowan tried all morning to get Luther Dawson but couldn’t reach him. He’s not accessible weekends. He may not get to his office before noon tomorrow but Miss Rowan has his home telephone number, and it’s about a three-hour drive here from Helena. But there will be a judge available tomorrow at any hour. You realize that my position is a little — well, difficult. In a court proceeding in this county I represent the people of the State of Montana, and Haight will insist that I ask for high bail. He may even want me to ask that you be held without bail, but of course I won’t. I have explained the situation to Wolfe and Miss Rowan.”
My mouth was busy with deviled egg. I had the caviar jar open and was working on the pâté. I swallowed. “It’s not the being in that hurts,” I said, “it’s the not being out. After being completely useless for two weeks, I could now do some detective work with a real chance of ringing the bell if I wasn’t locked up.” I slid some of the items toward him. “Help yourself to something. Everything.”
“Thanks.” He reached for a slice of bread and the caviar. “What would you do if you were out?”
“What Haight should be doing but probably isn’t — and Welch too, instead of chaperoning me. Do you want me to describe it?”
“Yes.”
I spread caviar on bread. “I have it all in order after the hours I’ve spent looking at it. How did they get out there back of Vawter’s — Peacock and X? They arranged to meet there. In advance? No. After Peacock arrived, at nine minutes to eleven. They spoke, there on the dance floor, and arranged to meet outside. They left separately, not together, and—”
“That’s merely assumptions.”
“Certainly. That’s all you ever have to start, assumptions. You assume the probables and file the possibles for later if they’re needed. So three things happened there on the dance floor: Peacock and X spoke, and X left, and Peacock left. People saw those three things happen. Find those people. That’s what I would be doing if I were loose. It’s a kindergarten chore, but most detective work is. I said it’s what Haight should be doing, but actually, if he keeps his eyes open when he’s on duty, he shouldn’t have to. If he stayed where he was when I went in to Mr. Wolfe at a quarter past eleven, and that’s another probable, he was right there, not ten steps away from the door they left by. The reason I assume they left separately, I certainly assume that when X left he did not intend that Peacock would be coming back. He had probably already been out there behind Vawter’s for a look, and he may have had the rock in his hand when Peacock came. But those are just details to help pass the time when you’re sitting on a stool in a cell. The question is, who was seen talking with Peacock on the dance floor? And who left the dance floor between eleven-fifteen and midnight?” I knifed a gob of pâté onto a piece of bread and, having finished the whisky, poured milk.