Too Many Cooks

“There he is.” I nodded at where Wolfe was chinning with a trio of the masters. “Go tell him.”

“But I don’t like to interrupt him. He is the guest of honor of Les Quinze Maîtres.” Malfi sounded awed. “I just thought I would ask you … perhaps I could see him in the morning? It may not be important. To-day we were talking with Mrs. Laszio—Mr. Liggett and I—and I was telling her about it—”

“Yeah?” I eyed him. “You a friend of Mrs. Laszio’s?”

“Not a friend. A woman like her doesn’t have friends, only slaves. I know her, of course. I was telling about this Zelota, and she and Mr. Liggett thought Mr. Wolfe should know. That was before Berin was arrested, when it was thought someone might have entered the dining room from the terrace—and killed Laszio. But if Mr. Wolfe is interested to clear Berin, certainly he should know.” Malfi smiled at me. “You frown, Mr. Goodwin? You think if Berin is not cleared that would suit my ambition, and why am I so unselfish? I am not unselfish. It would be the greatest thing in my life if I could become chef de cuisine of the Hotel Churchill. But Jerome Berin saw my talent in the little inn at Ajaccio and took me into the world, and guided me with his genius, and I would not pay for my glory with his misfortune. Besides, I know him; he would not have killed Laszio that way, from behind. So I think I should tell Mr. Wolfe about Zelota. Mrs. Laszio and Mr. Liggett think the same. Mr. Liggett says it would do no good to tell the police, because they are satisfied with Berin.”

I meditated on him. I was trying to remember where I had heard the name Zelota, and all at once it came to me. I said, “Uh-huh. You mean Zelota of Tarragona. Laszio stole something from him in 1920.”

Malfi looked surprised. “You know of Zelota?”

“Oh, a little. A few things. What’s he been up to? Or would you rather wait and tell Wolfe about it in the morning?”

“Not necessarily. Zelota is in New York.”

“Well, he’s got lots of company.” I grinned. “Being in New York is no crime. It’s full of people who didn’t kill Laszio. Now if he was in Kanawha Spa, that might be different.”

“But maybe he is.”

“He can’t be in two places at once. Even a jury wouldn’t believe that.”

“But he might have come here. I don’t know what you know about Zelota, but he hated Laszio more than—” Malfi shrugged. “He hated him bitterly. Berin often spoke to me about it. And about a month ago Zelota turned up in New York. He came and asked me for a job. I didn’t give him one, because there is nothing left of him but a wreck, drink has ruined him, and because I remembered what Berin had told me about him and I thought perhaps he wanted a job at the Churchill only for a chance to get at Laszio. I heard later that Vukcic gave him a job on soup at Rusterman’s, and he only lasted a week.” He shrugged again. “That’s all. I told Mrs. Laszio and Mr. Liggett about it, and they said I should tell Mr. Wolfe. I don’t know anything more about Zelota.”

“Well, much obliged. I’ll tell Wolfe. Will you still be here in the morning?”

He said yes, and his eyes began to dart around again and he shoved off, apparently to electioneer. I strolled around a while, finding opportunities for a few morsels of harmless eavesdropping, and then I saw Wolfe’s finger crooked at me and went to him. He announced that it was time to leave.

Which suited me. I was ready for the hay. I went to the hall and got our hats and waited with them, yawning, while Wolfe completed his good-nights. He joined me and we started out, but he stopped on the threshold and told me, “By the way, Archie. Give these men a dollar each. Appreciation for good memories.”

I shelled out to the two greenjackets, from the expense roll.

In our own suite 60, over at Upshur, having switched on the lights and closed a window so the breeze wouldn’t chill his delicate skin while undressing, I stood in the middle of his room and stretched and enjoyed a real yawn.

“It’s a funny thing about me. If I once get to bed really late, like last night at four o’clock, I’m not really myself again until I catch up. I was afraid you were going to hang around over there and chew the rag. As it is, it’s going on for midnight—”

I stopped because his actions looked suspicious. He wasn’t even unbuttoning his vest. Instead, he was getting himself arranged in the big chair in a manner which indicated that he expected to be there awhile. I demanded:

“Are you going to start your brain going at this time of night? Haven’t you done enough for one evening?”

“Yes.” He sounded grim. “But there is more to do. I arranged with Mr. Servan for the cooks and waiters of Pocahontas Pavilion to call on us soon as they have finished. They will be here in a quarter of an hour.”

“Well for God’s sake.” I sat down. “Since when have we been on the night shift?”

“Since we found Mr. Laszio with a knife in him.” He sounded grimmer. “We have but little time. Not enough perhaps, in view of Mrs. Coyne’s story.”

“And those blackbirds coming in a flock? At least a dozen.”