Rex Stout - Nero Wolfe 17 Read Online Free PDF Page B

returned to the red leather chair, sat, and said to someone, “You snippy little bastard.” I ignored it, knowing it couldn’t be for me, since I am just under six feet and weigh a hundred and eighty and therefore could not be called little.
    Cramer went at Wolfe. “So the minute we let her go she comes here. That has some bearing on my wanting to know what she was after yesterday, huh?”
    Wolfe spoke to me. “Archie. You say Miss Nieder is in the front room?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “It was she who rang the bell while Mr. Cramer was trying to knock my luncheon dishes off the table?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “What did she say?”
    “Nothing, except that she wanted to see you. She has spent hours with cops and her tongue’s tired.”
    “Bring her in here.”
    Cramer started offering objections, but I didn’t hear him. I went and opened the connecting door to the front room, which was as soundproof as the wall, and said respectfully for all to hear, “Inspector Cramer is here asking about you. Will you come in, please?”
    She stood up, hesitated, stiffened herself, and then walked to me and on through. I placed one of the yellow chairs for her, facing Wolfe, closer to my position than to Cramer’s. She nodded at me, sat, gave Cramer a straight full look, transferred it to Wolfe, and swallowed.
    Wolfe was frowning at her and his eyes were slits. “Miss Nieder,” he said gruffly, “I am working for you and you have paid me a retainer. Is that correct?”
    She nodded, decided to wire it for sound, and said, “Yes, certainly.”
    “Then first some advice. The police could have held you as a material witness and you would have had to get bail. Instead, they let you go to give you anillusion of freedom, and they are following you around. Should you at any time want to go somewhere without their knowledge, there’s nothing difficult about it. Mr. Goodwin is an expert on that and can tell you what to do.”
    Cramer was unimpressed. He had got out a cigar and was rolling it between his palms. I never understood why he did that, since you roll a cigar to make it draw better, and he never lit one but only chewed it.
    “I understand,” Wolfe continued, “that Mr. Cramer and his men have dragged it out of you that you came here yesterday, but that you have refused to tell them what for. Is that correct?”
    “Yes.”
    “Good. I think that was sensible. You are suspected of murder, but that puts you under no compulsion to disclose all the little secrets you have locked up. We all have them, and we don’t surrender them if we can help it. But my position in this is quite different from yours. It is true you have hired me, but I am not an attorney-at-law, and therefore what you said to me was not a privileged communication. In my business I need to have the good will, or at least the tolerance, of the police, in order to keep my license to work as a detective. I cannot afford to be intransigent with a police inspector. Besides, I respect and admire Mr. Cramer and would like to help him. I tell you all this so that you will not misunderstand what I am about to do.”
    Cynthia opened her mouth, but Wolfe pushed a palm at her, and no words came. He turned to Cramer.
    “Since your army has had several hours to poke into corners, you have learned, I suppose, that Mr.Goodwin went to that place yesterday and sat through a show.”
    “Yeah, I know about that.”
    “You didn’t mention it.”
    “I hadn’t come to it.”
    “Your reserves?” Wolfe smiled, as mean a smile as I had ever seen. “Well. You heard what I just told Miss Nieder. She came yesterday morning to consult me about her uncle.”
    “Yeah? What uncle?”
    “Mr. Paul Nieder. He is dead. Miss Nieder inherited half of that business from him. Back files of newspapers will tell you that he committed suicide a little over a year ago by jumping into a geyser in Yellowstone Park. Miss Nieder told me about that and many other things—the present status of the