Not Quite Dead Enough (The Rex Stout Library)

“Certainly,” Wolfe said impatiently. “That’s the point. She described it, and he heard her. It was good news for him, the best possible news, since it ended his fear that Miss Amory would disclose her knowledge that he had murdered Mrs. Leeds, but naturally he was startled, and had no idea who had done the job for him.”

“I didn’t!” Roy was whining. “I didn’t do it-”

“Shut up!” Cramer barked at him.

“So,” Wolfe went on, “he dashed down there as fast as he could, and was disconcerted to find that Miss Amory was not quite dead enough. Not, of course, dead at all. Alive and well. His mortification turned him into an imbecile. He conceived the silliest idea in the history of crime. He strangled her with a scarf and propped her up against a chair, the idea being that since Miss Rowan had already described the scene as he arranged it, he had an alibi that could not be broken. I don’t know when he realized how idiotic that was; anyway, when it was done it was done, and Archie arrived so promptly that he had no time to realize anything.”

“I didn’t-” Roy was trembling all over, and trying to squirm out of Cramer’s grasp, but Stebbins had his other shoulder and was getting out handcuffs for him.

Wolfe grimaced and went on. “Of course, instead of saving him, his gambit condemns him. Since it can be proven that Miss Amory left her office after five o’clock, and that Miss Rowan left the Ritz at 5:45 and arrived here ten minutes later, Miss Rowan couldn’t possibly have seen what she said she did at Miss Amory’s apartment, and therefore her description of that scene was an invention. Also Miss Rowan will herself testify to that; she’ll have to. But since the scene actually was as she described it, the inexorable conclusion is that it was staged by someone who heard her describe it. That alone will convict him.”

I started to say something, but found I had no voice. I cleared my throat and got it out, “I heard her describe it too, you know.”

“Pfui.” Wolfe was scornful. “With all your defects, Archie, you are neither a strangler nor a nincompoop.” He wiggled a finger at Cramer. “Get that wretch out of here.”

Chapter 13

An hour later, around half past seven, Wolfe and I were alone in the office. He was behind his desk, with the atlas opened at the map of Australia, and every now and then he lifted his head to sniff. The turkey was broiling in the kitchen.