Rex Stout_Nero Wolfe 46 Read Free Page B

the lamp that had been on it, at the chair that had been tossed clear across to the foot of the bed, and so on.
    He looked at me and said, “I suppose you had to.”
    That remark has since been discussed at length, but then I merely said, “Yeah. I’m going to—”
    “I know what you’re going to do. First put your shoes on. I am going to my room and bolt the door. I will stay there until they have come and gone and I will see no one. Tell Fritz that when he brings my breakfast hewill make sure that no one is near. When Theodore comes, tell him not to expect me. Is there anything you
must
say?”
    “No.”
    He went, still gripping the Montenegrin applewood by the small end. I didn’t hear the elevator, so he took the stairs, which he rarely does. Barefoot.
    He had
not
known what I was going to do. He hadn’t known that I would go down to the basement, to Fritz’s room. First I went and put on socks and shoes and a jacket, then down two flights to the office to turn the thermostat up to 70, and then on down to knock on Fritz’s door and call my name, loud. He’s a sound sleeper, but in half a minute the door opened. The tail of his white nightshirt flapped in the breeze from the open window. Our pajamas-versus-nightshirt debate will never be settled.
    “Sorry to intrude,” I said, “but there’s a mess. A man came, and I put him in the South Room, and a bomb that he brought along went off and killed him. All the damage is in that room. Mr. Wolfe came up for a look and is now in his room with the door bolted. You may not get much more sleep, because a mob will be coming and there will be noise. When you take his breakfast up—”
    “Five minutes,” he said. “You’ll be in the office?”
    “No. Upstairs. South Room. When you take his breakfast, be sure you’re alone.”
    “Four minutes. Do you want me upstairs?”
    “No. Down. You can let them in, that’ll help. There’s no rush. I have a couple of chores before I call them.”
    “Who do I let in?”
    “Anybody. Everybody.”
    “Bon Dieu.”
    “I agree.” I turned and headed for the stairs and onthe way up decided not to get rubber gloves from the office because they would make it take longer.
    He was still on the floor, and the first question was what had put him there. I couldn’t qualify as an expert on that, but I might get an idea, and I did. Here and there among the pieces of plaster on the floor I found several small objects that hadn’t come from the ceiling, which I couldn’t name. The biggest one was about half the size of my thumbnail. But I found four that I might name, or thought I might—four little pieces of aluminum. The biggest one was a quarter of an inch wide and nearly half an inch long, and EDR was printed on it, dark green. A smaller one had DO printed on it, and another one had
du
. One had no printing. I left them there, where I found them. The trouble with removing evidence from the scene of a crime is that someday you might want to produce it and have to tell where you got it.
    The second question was what had made me consider rubber gloves: was there anything on him that would supply a name or other fact? I got on my knees beside him and did a thorough job. He still had the topcoat on, but there was nothing in the pockets. In the jacket and pants pockets were most of the usual items—cigarettes, matches, a couple of dollars in change, key ring, handkerchief, penknife, wallet with driving license and credit cards and eighty-four dollars in bills—but nothing that offered any hope of a hint. Of course there were other possibilities, his shoes or something taped to his hide, but that would take time, and I had already stretched it.
    I went down to the office, and Fritz was there, fully dressed. I sat at my desk, pulled the phone around, and dialed a number I didn’t have to look up.

Chapter 2
    T he attitude of Sergeant Purley Stebbins toward Wolfe and me is yes-and-no, or make it no-but-yes. When he finds us within