Prisoner's Base

Prisoner's Base by Rex Stout

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Authors: Rex Stout
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you asked me when I saw her last, it hit me all of a sudden that someone actually
did it!
She didn’t do it herself, did she?”
    “Not unless somebody helped out by removing the cord for her afterward. She was strangled with some kind of cord.”
    Mrs. Jaffee shivered and seemed to shrink into the cushions. “Did that—would that take long?”
    “Probably not.”
    “How long?”
    “If the cord was good and tight, only a few seconds until she lost consciousness.”
    Her hands were fists, and I suspected that the sharpnails were marking her palms. “What could a woman do if a man was strangling her with a cord and had it pulled tight?”
    “Nothing except die if he meant business.” I got gruff. “You’re taking it too hard. If I had started strangling you when you started feeling it a minute ago, it would be all over by now.” I reached to mash the cigarette she had dropped into the tray. “Let’s go back and try again. When did you see Miss Eads last?”
    She took a long deep breath with her lips parted, and her fists loosened some. “I don’t think I want to talk about it.”
    “That’s just fine.” I was indignant. “You owe me three dollars.”
    “What? What for?”
    “Taxi fare here to take your husband’s place at breakfast, which was why you let me come. It will be more going back because I’ll have to stop at the Salvation Army to get rid of the hat and coat I promised to take. Three bucks will cover it, and I prefer cash.”
    She shook her head, frowning at me. “Have I ever met you before?”
    “Not that I remember, and I think I would. Why?”
    “You seem to know exactly the right things to say, as if you knew all about me. What day’s today?”
    “Wednesday.”
    “Then the last time I saw Pris was one week ago today, last Wednesday. She phoned and asked me to have lunch with her, and I did. She wanted to know if I would come to a special meeting of Softdown stockholders on July first, the day after her twenty-fifth birthday.”
    “Did you say you would?”
    “No. That’s another way my mind is funny. Since my father died, seven years ago, and left me twelve thousandshares of Softdown stock, I have never gone near the place, for meetings or anything else. I get a very good income from it, but I don’t know one single thing about it. Have you met a man named Perry Helmar?”
    I said I had.
    “Well, he’s been after me for years to come to meetings, but I wouldn’t, because I was afraid that if I did something would happen to the business that would reduce my income, and it would be my fault. Why should I run a risk like that when all I had to do was stay away? Do you know any of those people down there—Brucker and Quest and Pitkin and that Viola Duday?”
    I said I did.
    “Well, they’ve been after me too, every one of them at different times, to give them a proxy to vote my stock at a meeting, and I wouldn’t do that either. I didn’t—”
    “You mean give them a proxy jointly—all of them?”
    “Oh, no, separately. They’ve been after me one at a time, but the worst was that woman Duday. Isn’t she a terror?”
    “I guess so. I don’t know her as well as you do. Why did Miss Eads want you at a special stockholders’ meeting?”
    “She said she wanted to elect a new board of directors, and it would be all women, and they would elect Viola Duday president of the corporation—that’s right, isn’t it, president of the corporation?”
    “It sounds like it. Did she say who would be on the new board of directors?”
    “Yes, but I don’t—wait, maybe I do. She and I were to be—Pris and I—and Viola Duday, and some woman in charge of something at the factory—I forget her name—and Pris’s maid, the one that’s been with her solong—her name’s Margaret, but I forget her last name.”
    I supplied it. “Fomos. Margaret Fomos.”
    “No, that’s not—oh, yes, of course. She’s been married.”
    I nodded. “She has also been killed. She was waylaid on

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