Rex Stout by Red Threads

Author:Red Threads
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Widowers, Murder, Mystery & Detective, Murder - Investigation, New York (N.Y.), Police - New York (State) - New York, Fiction, Mystery Fiction, General, Cherokee Indians
ISBN: 9780854681013
Publisher: Bantam
Published: 1971-01-02T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

In a large room on the 32nd floor of a Madison Avenue building in the Forties, Samuel Aaron Orlik sat at his desk, his arms folded and lips screwed up, staring at the knob of the door twenty feet away. The room was beautifully furnished, in excellent and quiet taste. The polished and spacious top of the desk was bare except for an onyx pen-stand, an empty letter basket, a crystal glass ash tray, and a morning newspaper which displayed a prominent headline:

ARREST IN CAREW MURDER CASE

Orlik moved his right forearm sufficiently to expose the watch on his left wrist: ten after nine. He grunted impatiently, and at that moment there was a soft buzz and he swivelled to reach the phone on its bracket. In a moment he said, “Well, I told you to send him in, didn’t I?” Then he got up and went to the door and opened it. He shook hands with the tall dark young man who presently came down the hall, allowed him precedence in entering and, back in the room, closed the door.

The visitor said in a tone of displeasure, “This is a waste of time, my stopping here. We could have met downtown. I told you on the phone—”

“Please, Mr. Carew. Have a seat.” Orlik himself sat. “Now, you might as well sit down. This has to be discussed.”

“I don’t see why.” Guy Carew remained standing. “You know as much about it as I do. I told you everything yesterday when I gave you that piece of yarn I got from Miss Farris. They’ve got on to it somehow, I don’t know how, and it doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is to get down there and make them turn her loose. My God, she’s been there all night! I didn’t know about it until I saw the paper—”

“I did. I knew at midnight.”

“What?” Guy stared.

“I said I learned of it at midnight. I know lots of people who are glad to tell me things.” Orlik folded his arms. “You confounded millionaires! When Hutchings & Osborn asked me to take this I was inclined to turn it down. I hate millionaires for clients; I’d rather have one who has to mortgage his home and borrow on his insurance to pay me; they expect less and they appreciate more. But I’m giving you my very best—”

“Not sitting there, you’re not. You’ve already delayed it an hour.”

“And I’m going to delay it ten minutes more to tell you something. Granting that I’m the best criminal lawyer on feet, do you think I can run down to Centre Street and snap my fingers and all the doors will fly open? Look here, Mr. Carew. I’m presuming that you’ve told me the truth, and the whole truth, about everything, including that jacket and the yarn that was in it. If that is so, there is no way in God’s world to get that young woman away from the police until they either learn what

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