Too Many Cooks

Tolman turned to me, but I beat the gun. I gave Odell a dig in the ribs that made him jump. “Oh, that’s it!” I laughed. “I remember now, when we were out by the bridle path throwing stones, and you pointed out that ledge to me and told me—sure! Apparently you didn’t tell Mr. Tolman everything we said, since he thinks—Did you tell him how I was talking about those dago and polack cooks, and how they’re so jealous of each other they’re apt to begin killing each other off any time, and how Laszio was the highest paid of the bunch, sixty thousand bucks a year, so they would be sure to pick on him first, and how they would take turns killing him first and then begin on the next one—and then I remember you began telling me about the ledge and how it happened you could leave the hotel at that time of day—” I turned to Tolman. “That’s all that was, just a couple of guys talking to pass the time. You’re welcome to any significance you can find in it. If I told you what Odell told me about that ledge—” I laughed and poked my pal in the ribs again.

Tolman was frowning, but not at me. “What about it, Odell? That’s not the way you told it. What about it?”

I had to hand it to Odell for a good poker face, at that. He was the picture of a Supreme Court justice pretending that he had no personal interest in the matter. Still he didn’t glance at me, but he looked Tolman quietly in the eye. “I guess my tongue kinda ran away with me. I guess it was about like he says, just shootin off. But of course I remembered the name, Phillip Laszio, and any detective would jump at a chance to have a hot one on a murder. …”

The squint-eyed ruffian spoke, in a thin mild drawl that startled me. “You sound pretty inaccurate to me, Odell. Maybe you ought to do less guessin’?”

Tolman demanded, “Did he or did he not tell you Laszio was going to be killed?”

“Well … the way he just said it, yes. I mean about them all being jealous dagoes, and Laszio getting sixty thousand—I’m sure he said that. I guess that’s all there was to it.”

“What about it, Goodwin? Why did you pick on Laszio?”

I showed a palm. “I didn’t pick on him. I happened to mention him because I knew he was the tops—in salary, anyhow. I had just read an article—want to see it?”

The sheriff drawled, “We’re wastin’ time. Get the hell out of here, Odell.”

My pal, without favoring me with a glance, turned and made for the door. Tolman called to the cop:

“Bring Wolfe in.”

I sat tight. Except for the little snags that had threatened to trip me up, I was enjoying myself. I was wondering what Inspector Cramer of the New York Homicide Squad would say if he could see Nero Wolfe letting himself be called in for a grilling by small town snoops at half-past three in the morning, because he didn’t want to offend a prosecuting attorney! He hadn’t been up as late as that since the night Clara Fox slept in his house in my pajamas. Then I thought I might as well offer what help I could, and got up and brought a big armchair from the other end of the room and put it in position near the table.

The cop returned, with my boss. Tolman asked the cop who was left out there, and the cop said, “That Vookshish or whatever it is, and Berin and his daughter. They tried to shoo her off to bed, but she wouldn’t go. She keeps making passes to come in here.”

Tolman was chewing his lip, and I kept one sardonic eye on him while I used the other one to watch Nero Wolfe getting himself into the chair I had placed. Finally Tolman said, “Send them to their rooms. We might as well knock off until morning. All right, Pettigrew?”

“Sure. Bank it up and sleep on it.” He squinted at the cop. “Tell Plank to wait out there until we see what arrangements he’s made. This is no time of night for anyone to be taking a walk.”

The cop departed. Tolman rubbed his eyes, then, chewing at his lip again, leaned back and looked at Wolfe. Wolfe seemed placid enough, but I saw his forefinger tapping on the arm of his chair and knew what a fire was raging inside of him. He offered as a bit of information, “It’s nearly four o’clock, Mr. Tolman.”

“Thanks.” Tolman sounded peevish. “We won’t keep you long. I sent for you again because one or two things have come up.” I observed that he and the sheriff both had me in the corner of their eyes, and I’d have sworn they were putting over a fast one and trying to catch me passing some kind of a sign to Wolfe. I let myself look sleepy, which wasn’t hard.

Wolfe said, “More than one or two, I imagine. For instance, I suppose Mrs. Laszio has repeated to you the story she told me yesterday afternoon. Hasn’t she?”

“What story was that?”

“Come now, Mr. Tolman.” Wolfe stopped tapping with the finger and wiggled it at him. “Don’t be circuitous with me. She was in here with you over half an hour, she must have told you that story. I figured she would. That was why I didn’t mention it; it seemed preferable that you should get it fresh from her.”

“What do you mean, you figured she would?”