And Four to Go by Nero Wolfe

Author:Nero Wolfe [Wolfe, Nero]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, General, Mystery & Detective, Private Investigators, Nero (Fictitious Character), Political, Private Investigators - New York (State) - New York, Wolfe, Mystery Fiction, New York (N.Y.)
ISBN: 9789997525239
Publisher: Viking Pr
Published: 1958-01-01T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

AS I ENTERED, heads turned and Wolfe stopped talking. Since my chair was occupied I wanted to ask him if I was invited, but held it; and as I circled around the cluster of chairs he spoke.

“That’s Mr. Goodwin’s desk, Mr. Skinner. If you don’t mind?”

That helped a little, but not much. He had never before arranged to stage a charade without even telling me, and besides, I had spent a good part of the day, under instructions, trying to corral four of those present: Iris Innes and Joe Herrick, whom I was acquainted with, and Alan Geiss and Augustus Pizzi, whom I had seen standing on boxes the day before. There was a vacant chair back of Geiss, and Skinner got up and moved to it. Inspector Cramer was just beyond, and in front of him was Henry Frimm. In the red leather chair, exactly as he had sat the previous evening, using only half the seat, with his back straight and his fists on his thighs, was Millard Bynoe.

Bynoe and Frimm and Cramer and Skinner I could stand, but the sight of the four photographers, after the day I had spent, was too much for me. I stood at my desk and asked Wolfe, “Am I in the way?”

“Sit down, Archie.” He was brusque. “The idea of this gathering came from Mr. Bynoe, and he arranged for it with Mr. Skinner. We have been at it half an hour but have made no progress. Sit down.”

I accepted that, since a billionaire philanthropist might plausibly have considerable drag with a District Attorney, but even so, if they had been there by six o’clock the preparations must have taken more than an hour, and I had phoned in at a quarter past five and he hadn’t mentioned it. He needed a lesson in cooperation. I got the envelope from my right-hand pocket and tossed it on his desk. If Cramer got curious and demanded a look, and wondered why I had been specifically interested in Mrs. Bynoe, let Wolfe juggle it. Of course, he would merely pick it up and drop it in a drawer.

But he didn’t. The Centrex had been bought for making a permanent record of color variations in blossoms, and the viewer was there on the desk. He pulled it to him, took the transparencies from the envelope, inserted one, inspected it, removed it, and inserted another.

Cramer spoke up. “What have you got there?”

“I beg your indulgence,” Wolfe muttered, and went on inspecting, shifting from one to another. He seemed to have a favorite, and I guessed it was the last of the series. After he had inserted it a third time and given it a good long minute, he lifted his head.

“Mr. Cramer and Mr. Skinner.” His voice had an edge. “If you will please come and take a look? This is one of the pictures Mr. Goodwin took yesterday—the last one.”

He turned the viewer around and pushed it across the desk. Cramer, there first, bent over to get his eyes at the right level.

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