Rex Stout - Nero Wolfe 19 Read Online Free

reason?”
    “Yes, Archie. I have been training you for years to observe. You are slacking. Not long ago Mr. Cramer showed us a list of names on a sheet of paper. The seventh name on that list was Baird Archer. The evening she was killed Miss Wellman had an appointment with a man named Baird Archer. Leonard Dykes who wrote that list of names was murdered. It would be silly not to hypothesize that Miss Wellman was also murdered.”
    I turned on my heel, took the two paces to my swivel chair, turned it so I would face him, and sat. “Oh, that,” I said carelessly. “I crossed that off as coincidence.”
    “Pfui. It never struck you. You’re slacking.”
    “Okay. I am not electronized.”
    “There is no such word.”
    “There is now. I’ve used it.” I was getting indignant. “I mean I am not lightning. It was six weeks ago that Cramer showed us that list of names, and I gave it the merest glance. I know you did too, but look who you are. What if it were the other way around? What if I had remembered that name from one short glimpse of that list six weeks ago and you hadn’t? I would be the owner of this house and the bank account, and you would be working for me. Would you like that? Or do you prefer it as it is? Take your pick.”
    He snorted. “Call Mr. Cramer.”
    “Right.” I swiveled to the phone and dialed.

Chapter 3

    I f you like Anglo-Saxon, I belched. If you fancy Latin, I eructed. No matter which, I had known that Wolfe and Inspector Cramer would have to put up with it that evening, because that is always a part of my reaction to sauerkraut. I don’t glory in it or go for a record, but neither do I fight it back. I want to be liked just for myself.
    If either Cramer or Wolfe noticed it he gave no sign. I was where I belonged during an evening session in the office and, with Wolfe behind his desk and Cramer in the red leather chair, I was to one side of the line of fire. It had started off sociable enough, with Wolfe offering refreshment and Cramer choosing bourbon and water, and Fritz bringing it, and Cramer giving it a go and saying it was good whisky, which was true.
    “You said on the phone,” he told Wolfe, “you have something I can use.”
    Wolfe put his beer glass down and nodded. “Yes, sir. Unless you no longer need it. I’ve seen nothing in the paper recently about the Leonard Dykes case—the body fished out of the river nearly two months ago. Have you got it in hand?”
    “No.”
    “Any progress?”
    “Nothing—no.”
    “Then I would like to consult you about something because it’s a little ticklish.” Wolfe leaned back and adjusted himself for comfort. “I have to make a choice. Seventeen days ago the body of a young woman named Joan Wellman was found on a secluded road in Van Cortlandt Park. She had been struck by an automobile. Her father, from Peoria, Illinois, is dissatisfied with the way the police are handling the matter and has hired me to investigate. I saw him just this evening; he left only two hours ago, and I phoned you immediately. I have reason to think that Miss Wellman’s death was not an accident and that there was an important connection between the two homicides—hers and Dykes’s.”
    “That’s interesting,” Cramer conceded. “Something your client told you?”
    “Yes. So I’m faced with an alternative. I can make a proposal to your colleague in the Bronx. I can offer to tell him of this link connecting the two deaths, which will surely be of great help to him, on the condition that he collaborates with me, within reason, to satisfy my client—when the case is solved—that I have earned my fee. Or I can make that proposal to you. Since the death of my client’s daughter occurred in the Bronx and therefore is in your colleague’s jurisdiction, perhaps I should go to him, but on the other hand Dykes was killed in Manhattan. What do you think?”
    “I think,” Cramer growled, “I expected something like this and here it is. You want me to