Rex Stout - Nero Wolfe 27 (8 page)

I departed.

At six minutes past ten in the morning Assistant District Attorney Mandelbaum was standing at the end of his table in the courtroom to address Judge Corbett. The room was packed. The jury was in the box. Jimmy Donovan, defense attorney, looking not at all
like a janitor, was fingering through some papers his assistant had handed him.

“Your Honor,” Mandelbaum said, “I wish to call a witness whom I called yesterday, but he was not available. I learned only a few minutes ago that he is present. You will remember that on my application you issued a warrant for Mr. Nero Wolfe.”

“Yes, I do.” The judge cleared his throat. “Is he here?”

“He is.” Mandelbaum turned and called, “Nero Wolfe!”

Having arrived at one minute to ten, we wouldn’t have been able to get in if we hadn’t pushed through to the officer at the door and told him who we were and that we were wanted. He had stared at Wolfe and admitted he recognized him, and let us in, and the attendant had managed to make room for us on a bench just as Judge Corbett entered. When Wolfe was called by Mandelbaum and got up to go forward I had enough space.

He walked down the aisle, through the gate, mounted the stand, turned to face the judge, and stood.

“I have some questions for you, Mr. Wolfe,” the judge said, “after you are sworn.”

The attendant extended the Book and administered the oath, and Wolfe sat. A witness-chair is supposed to take any size, but that one just barely made it.

The judge spoke. “You knew you were to be called yesterday. You were present, but you left and could not be found, and a warrant was issued for you. Are you represented by counsel?”

“No, sir.”

“Why did you leave? You are under oath.”

“I was impelled to leave by a motive which I thought imperative. I will of course expound it now if
you so order, but I respectfully ask your indulgence. I understand that if my reason for leaving is unsatisfactory I will be in contempt of court and will suffer a penalty. But I ask, Your Honor, does it matter whether I am adjudged in contempt now, or later, after I have testified? Because my reason for leaving is inherent in my testimony, and therefore I would rather plead on the charge of contempt afterwards, if the court will permit. I’ll still be here.”

“Indeed you will. You’re under arrest.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You’re not under arrest?”

“No, sir. I came here voluntarily.”

“Well, you are now.” The judge turned his head. “Officer, this man is under arrest.” He turned back. “Very well. You will answer to the contempt charge later. Proceed, Mr. Mandelbaum.”

Mandelbaum approached the chair. “Please tell the jury your name, occupation, and address.”

Wolfe turned to the jury box. “I am Nero Wolfe, a licensed private detective, with my office in my house at nine-eighteen West Thirty-fifth Street, Manhattan, New York City.”

“Have you ever met the defendant in this case?” Mandelbaum pointed. “That gentleman.”

“Yes, sir. Mr. Leonard Ashe.”

“Where and under what circumstances did you meet him?”

“He called on me at my office, by appointment, at eleven o’clock in the morning of Tuesday, July thirteenth, this year.”

“What did he say to you on that occasion?”

“That he wished to engage my professional services. That he had, the preceding day, arranged for an answering service for the telephone at his residence on
Seventy-third Street in New York. That he had learned, upon inquiry, that one of the employees of the answering service would be assigned to his number and would serve it five or six days a week. That he wanted to hire me to learn the identity of that employee, and to propose to her that she eavesdrop on calls made during the daytime to his number, and report on them either to him or to me—I can’t say definitely which, because he wasn’t clear on that point.”

“Did he say why he wanted to make that arrangement?”

“No. He didn’t get that far.”

Donovan was up. “Objection, Your Honor. Conclusion of the witness as to the intention of the defendant.”

“Strike it,” Mandelbaum said amiably. “Strike all of his answer except the word ‘No.’ Your answer is ‘No,’ Mr. Wolfe?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did the defendant suggest any inducement to be offered to the employee to get her to do the eavesdropping?”

“He didn’t name a sum, but he indicated that—”

“Not what he indicated. What he said.”

I allowed myself a grin. Wolfe, who always insisted on precision, who loved to ride others, especially me, for loose talk, and who certainly knew the rules of evidence, had been caught twice. I promised myself to find occasion later to comment on it.

He was unruffled. “He said that he would make it worth her while, meaning the employee, but stated no amount.”

“What else did he say?”

“That was about all. The entire conversation was
only a few minutes. As soon as I understand clearly what he wanted to hire me to do, I refused to do it.”

“Did you tell him why you refused?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What did you say?”

“I said that while it is the function of a detective to pry into people’s affairs, I excluded from my field anything connected with marital difficulties and therefore declined his job.”

“Had he told you that what he wanted was to spy on his wife?”

“No, sir.”

“Then why did you mention marital difficulties to him?”

“Because I had concluded that that was the nature of his concern.”

“What else did you say to him?”

Wolfe shifted in the chair. “I would like to be sure I understand the question. Do you mean what I said to him that day, or on a later occasion?”

“I mean that day. There was no later occasion, was there?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Are you saying that you had another meeting with the defendant, on another day?”

“Yes, sir.”

Mandelbaum held a pose. Since his back was to me I couldn’t see his look of surprise, but I didn’t have to. In his file was Wolfe’s signed statement, saying among other things that he had not seen Leonard Ashe before or since July 13. His voice went up a notch. “When and where did this meeting take place?”

“Shortly after nine o’clock this morning, in this building.”

“You met and spoke with the defendant in this building today?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Under what circumstances?”

“His wife had arranged to see and speak with him, and she allowed me to accompany her.”

“How did she arrange it? With whom?”

“I don’t know.”

“Was Mr. Donovan, the defense counsel, present?”

“No, sir.”

“Who was?”

“Mrs. Ashe, Mr. Ashe, myself, and two armed guards, one at the door and one at the end of the room.”

“What room was it?”

“I don’t know. There was no number on the door. I think I could lead you to it.”

Mandelbaum whirled around and looked at Robina Keane, seated on the front bench. Not being a lawyer, I didn’t know whether he could get her to the stand or not. Of course a wife couldn’t be summoned to testify against her husband, but I didn’t know if this would have come under that ban. Anyway, he either skipped it or postponed it. He asked the judge to allow him a moment and went to the table to speak in an undertone to a colleague. I looked around. I had already spotted Guy Unger, in the middle of the audience on the left. Bella Velardi and Alice Hart were on the other side, next to the aisle. Apparently the Sixty-ninth Street office of Bagby Answers, Inc., was being womaned for the day from other offices. Clyde Bagby, the boss, was a couple of rows in front of Unger. Helen Weltz, the Queen of Hearts, whom I had driven from Saul’s address to a hotel seven hours ago, was in the back, not far from me.

The colleague got up and left, in a hurry, and Mandelbaum went back to Wolfe.

“Don’t you know,” he demanded, “that it is a misdemeanor for a witness for the State to talk with the defendant charged with a felony?”

“No, sir, I don’t. I understand it would depend on what was said. I didn’t discuss my testimony with Mr. Ashe.”

“What did you discuss?”

“Certain matters which I though would be of interest to him.”

“What matters? Exactly what did you say?”

I took a deep breath, spread and stretched my fingers, and relaxed. The fat son-of-a-gun had put it over. Having asked that question, Mandelbaum couldn’t possibly keep it from the jury unless Jimmy Donovan was a sap, and he wasn’t.

Wolfe testified. “I said that yesterday, seated in this room awaiting your convenience, I had formed a surmise that certain questions raised by the murder of Marie Willis had not been sufficiently considered and investigated, and that therefore my role as a witness for the prosecution was an uncomfortable one. I said that I had determined to satisfy myself on certain points; that I knew that in leaving the courtroom I would become liable to a penalty for contempt of court, but that the integrity of justice was more important than my personal ease; that I had been confident that Judge Corbett would—”

“If you please, Mr. Wolfe. You are not now pleading to a charge of contempt.”

“No, sir. You asked what I said to Mr. Ashe. He asked what surmise I had formed, and I told him—that it was a double surmise. First, that as one with long experience in the investigation of crime and culprits, I
had an appreciable doubt of his guilt. Second, that the police had been so taken by the circumstances pointing to Mr. Ashe—his obvious motive and his discovery of the body—that their attention in other directions had possibly been somewhat dulled. For example, an experienced investigator always has a special eye and ear for any person occupying a privileged position. Such persons are doctors, lawyers, trusted servants, intimate friends, and, of course, close relatives. If one in those categories is a rogue he has peculiar opportunities for his scoundrelism. It occurred to me that—”

“You said all this to Mr. Ashe?”

“Yes, sir. It occurred to me that a telephone-answering service was in the same kind of category as those I have mentioned, as I sat in this room yesterday and heard Mr. Bagby describe the operation of the switchboards. An unscrupulous operator might, by listening in on conversations, obtain various kinds of information that could be turned to account—for instance, about the stock market, about business or professional plans, about a multitude of things. The possibilities would be limitless. Certainly one, and perhaps the most promising, would be the discovery of personal secrets. Most people are wary about discussing or disclosing vital secrets on the telephone, but many are not, and in emergencies caution is often forgotten. It struck me that for getting the kind of information, or at least hints of it, that is most useful and profitable for a blackmailer, a telephone-answering service has potentialities equal to those of a doctor or lawyer or trusted servant. Any operator at the switchboard could simply—”

“This is mere idle speculation, Mr. Wolfe. Did you say all that to the defendant?”

“Yes, sir.”

“How long were you with him?”

“Nearly half an hour. I can say a great deal in half an hour.”

“No doubt. But the time of the court and jury should not be spent on irrelevancies.” Mandelbaum treated the jury to one of his understanding glances, and went back to Wolfe. “You didn’t discuss your testimony with the defendant?”

“No, sir.”

“Did you make any suggestions to him regarding the conduct of his defense?”

“No, sir. I made no suggestions to him of any kind.”

“Did you offer to make any kind of investigation for him as a contribution to his defense?”

“No, sir.”

“Then why did you seek this interview with him?”

“One moment.” Donovan was on his feet. “I submit, Your Honor, that this is the State’s witness, and this is not proper direct examination. Surely it is cross-examination, and I object to it.”

Judge Corbett nodded. “The objection is sustained. Mr. Mandelbaum, you know the rules of evidence.”

“But I am confronted by an unforeseen contingency.”

“He is still your witness. Examine him upon the merits.”

“Also, Your Honor, he is in contempt.”

“Not yet. That is in abeyance. Proceed.”

Mandelbaum looked at Wolfe, glanced at the jury, went to the table and stood a moment gazing down at it, lifted his head, said, “No more questions,” and sat down.

Jimmy Donovan arose and stepped forward, but addressed the bench instead of the witness-stand. “Your Honor, I wish to state that I knew nothing of the meeting
this morning, of the witness with my client, either before or after it took place. I only learned of it here and now. If you think it desirable, I will take the stand to be questioned about it under oath.”

Judge Corbett shook his head. “I don’t think so, Mr. Donovan. Not unless developments suggest it.”

“At any time, of course.” Donovan turned. “Mr. Wolfe, why did you seek an interview this morning with Mr. Ashe?”

Wolfe was relaxed but not smug. “Because I had acquired information which cast a reasonable doubt on his guilt, and I wanted to get it before the court and the jury without delay. As a witness for the prosecution, with a warrant out for my arrest, I was in a difficult situation. It occurred to me that if I saw and talked with Mr. Ashe the fact would probably be disclosed in the course of my examination by Mr. Mandelbaum; and if so, he would almost certainly ask me what had been said. Therefore I wanted to tell Mr. Ashe what I had surmised and what I had discovered. If Mr. Mandelbaum allowed me to tell all I had said to Mr. Ashe, that would do it. If he dismissed me before I finished, I thought it likely that on cross-examination the defense attorney would give me an opportunity to go on.” He turned a palm up. “So I sought an interview with Mr. Ashe.”

The judge was frowning. One of the jurors made a noise, and the others looked at him. The audience stirred, and someone tittered. I was thinking Wolfe had one hell of a nerve, but he hadn’t violated any law I had ever heard of, and Donovan had asked him a plain question and got a plain answer. I would have given a ream of foolscap to see Donovan’s face.

If his face showed any reaction to the suggestion
given him, his voice didn’t. “Did you say more to Mr. Ashe than you have already testified to?”