Nero Wolfe (47): Death Times Three by Stout Rex

Author:Stout, Rex [Stout, Rex]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Crime, Detective, Detective Series, Murder, Mystery, Novel
ISBN: 0553196464
Google: U2tT1WpCT2kC
Barnesnoble:
Goodreads: 8171095
Publisher: Bantam
Published: 1985-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

The next morning, Wednesday, eating breakfast in the kitchen with the paper propped up in front of me—which is routine, of course—I read the account of the Bianca Voss murder. There were various details that were news to me, but nothing startling or even helpful. It included the phone call from John H. Watson, but didn’t add that he had been identified as Archie Goodwin, and there was no mention of Nero Wolfe. I admit that the cops and the D.A. have a right to save something for themselves, but it never hurts to have your name in the paper, and I had a notion to phone Lon Cohen at the Gazette and give him an exclusive. However, I would have to mention it to Wolfe first, so it would have to wait until eleven o’clock. He eats breakfast in his room from a tray delivered by Fritz, and doesn’t come down to the office until after his morning session with the orchids.

As a matter of fact, another item in the paper meant more to me personally. Sarah Yare had committed suicide. Her body had been found Tuesday evening in her little walk-up apartment on East Thirteenth Street. I have never written a fan letter to an actress, but I had been tempted to a couple of years back when I had seen Sarah Yare in Thumb a Ride. The first time I saw it I had a companion, but the next three times I was alone. The reason for repeating was that I had the impression I was infatuated and I wanted to wear it down, but when the impression still stuck after three tries, I gave up. Actresses should be seen and heard from no closer than the fifth row, and not touched. At that, I might have given the impression another test in a year or two if there had been an opportunity, but there wasn’t. She quit Thumb a Ride abruptly some months later, and the talk was that she was an alco and done for.

So I read that item twice. It didn’t say that it had been pronounced suicide officially and finally, since she had left no note, but a nearly empty bourbon bottle had been there on a table, and on the floor by the couch she had died on there had been a glass with enough left in it to identify the cyanide. The picture of her was as she had been formerly when I had got my impression that I was infatuated. I asked Fritz if he had ever seen Sarah Yare, and he asked what movies she had been in, and I said none, that she was much too good for a movie.

I didn’t get to suggest phoning Lon Cohen to Wolfe because when he came down to the office at eleven o’clock, I wasn’t there. As I was finishing my second cup of coffee a phone call came from the district attorney’s office inviting me to drop in for a chat, and I went, and spent a couple of hours at Leonard Street with an assistant D.

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