Not Quite Dead Enough (The Rex Stout Library)

“Archie.” Wolfe had found his tongue. “You admit that the sole purpose of this grotesque performance was to bring pressure on me? To coerce me?”

“To stimulate you, yes, sir.”

Wolfe nodded grimly. “We’ll discuss it at the proper time. I prefer not to do so in the presence of others. First there is this murder. How much of what you told Mr. Cramer was true?”

“All of it.”

“You’re talking to me now.”

“I know I am.”

“How much did you withhold?”

“Nothing. That was the works.”

“I don’t believe it. You hesitated twice.”

I shook my head, grinning at him. “You’re a little rusty, that’s all. You’re out of practice. But there is one thing I didn’t say. I did want you to get back to work because the Army needs you, but when I saw Ann Amory there on the floor there was another reason. She was a good kid. She was all right. I danced with her and I liked her. If you had seen her as she was Monday evening, and then as she was there on the floor-anyway, I saw her. So I was in favor of making sure that the guy who did it wouldn’t live any longer than was necessary, and that was another reason for getting you back to work. Because it may have been partly my fault. I went down there and stirred it up. Otherwise it might not have happened.”

“Nonsense,” Wolfe said testily. “A murderer doesn’t sprout overnight like a mushroom. What about it, Mr. Cramer? What have you got? Do you need anything?”

Cramer grunted. “I didn’t need what Goodwin gave me. If I believe him. Say I believe him. I didn’t need him to scratch the favorite.”

My brows went up. “Roy Douglas? Were you liking him?”

“I was.” Cramer tossed the worn-out unlit cigar in the wastebasket. “For one thing, because he beat it. But if I’m believing you, he’s good and out. According to three people, the girl left her office a couple of minutes after five. She couldn’t have got home before 5:20, probably not before 5:25. Miss Rowan saw her there dead at 5:45, close to that. So she was killed in that twenty minutes. Or even if you want to get fancy and say she was killed somewhere else, as soon as she left the office, and then taken and dumped in the apartment, still Douglas is out. According to you, he got to Wolfe’s house before five o’clock and was with you constantly until Miss Rowan arrived.”

I nodded. “I told you I checked on her leaving the office. If I had slipped the murderer a hundred bucks for a train ride, that would have been overdoing it. What have you got left? How about Leon Furey?”