Not Quite Dead Enough (The Rex Stout Library)

“What did old Mrs. Leeds pay you? Same as her daughter does? Twenty dollars per hawk?”

“That’s right. She set the figure, I didn’t.”

“And after she hurt her leg and had to stay in bed she refused to pay you any more? And wouldn’t let her daughter pay you? And ordered you to move out?”

“Oh, that.” Leon waved it away contemptuously.

“Was that because she found out that you weren’t killing the hawks, as you said you were, but were collecting them from farmers?”

“It was not. It was because she couldn’t enjoy life any more and didn’t want anyone else to. How could she have found out about the hawks? She was laid up in bed.”

“I’m asking you.”

“And I’ve answered you.” Leon leaned forward. “What I want to know is, are you going to ruin my business or not? You’ve got no right-”

“Take him away,” Cramer said wearily. “Stebbins! Take him away!”

Sergeant Stebbins performed.

With the company gone, the three of us looked at one another. I yawned. Wolfe was letting his shoulders sag. He was already forgetting to keep them straight. Cramer got out a cigar, scowled at it, and stuck it back in his pocket.

“Thoughtful of them,” Wolfe said conversationally. “To come and tell you things like that.”

“Yeah.” Cramer was massaging the back of his neck. “That was a big help. There’s a precinct report on the death of old Mrs. Leeds and all it’s good for is scrap paper. Say they did all have a motive to get rid of her. Then what? Where does that get me on the murder of Ann Amory? With the alibis they’ve got. And Mrs. Chack’s story about what she can’t remember that her granddaughter told her about Roy Douglas. That’s just fine. With Goodwin here claiming that Douglas was with him at the only time it could have happened.” He glared at me. “Look, son, I’ve known you to put over some fast ones; you know I have. By God, if you’re covering up on Douglas I don’t care if you’re a brigadier general-”