Rex Stout - Nero Wolfe 41 by The Doorbell Rang Page A

So he was working, but on what? I stood and looked at him. That’s the one thing I never break in on, the lip operation, but that time I had to clamp my jaw to keep my mouth shut because I didn’t believe it. There was absolutely nothing he could be hatching. Two full minutes. Three. I decided he was only practicing, it was a dry run, went to a chair, sat, and coughed loud. In a moment he opened his eyes, blinked at me, and straightened up.
    I moved my chair closer. “All set,” I said. “We’re expected by noon, so we should roll by ten-thirty.”
    “You’re not going,” he growled. “I telephoned Saul. He’ll come at nine.”
    “Oh. I see. You want me here in case Wragg sends them to confess.”
    “I want you to find Frank Odell.”
    “For God’s sake. Is
that
what your lips squeezed out?”
    “No.” He turned his head. “A little louder, Fritz.” Back to me: “I said after lunch that you had made it clear that it would be futile to establish that the FBI committed that murder. I retract that. I will not bow to futility. We must arrange a situation in which none of the three alternatives would be futile. They are: one, establish that the FBI committed the murder; two, establish that they didn’t; and three, establish neither one, let the murder go. We prefer by far the second alternative, and that is why you are to find Frank Odell, but if we are forced to accept the first or the third we must manage circumstances so that we will nevertheless be in a position to fulfill our obligation to our client.”
    “You have no obligation except to investigate and use your best efforts.”
    “Your pronouns again.”
    “All right, ‘we’ and ‘our.’”
    “That’s better. Just so, our best efforts. The strongest obligation possible for a man with self-esteem, and we both have our full share of that. One point is vital. No matter which alternative circumstances compel us to accept, Mr. Wragg must believe, or at least suspect, that one of his men killed Morris Althaus. I can contrive no maneuver by us that would contribute to that; I was trying to when you returned. Can you?”
    “No. He either believes it or he doesn’t. Ten to one he does.”
    “At least we have the odds. Now. I need suggestions regarding the arrangement I intend to make with Mr. Hewitt tomorrow. It will take time, and I’m dry. Fritz?”
    No response. I turned. He was sound asleep in the chair, probably snoring, but if so the TV covered it. I suggested moving to the office and trying some WQXR music for a change, and Wolfe agreed, so we woke Fritz and thanked him for his hospitality and told him good night. On the way to the office I stopped off for beer for Wolfe and milk for me, and when I joined him he had the radio going and was in back of his desk. Since it was going to take time I brought a yellow chair and put it near his. He poured beer, and I took a swallow of milk and said, “I forgot to say that I didn’t ask Hewitt about the Ten for Aristology. You wanted to see him anyway and you can ask him tomorrow. And the program?”
    He spoke.
    It was well after midnight when he went to the elevator and I went to get the sheets and blankets and pillow for my second night on the couch.

Chapter 8
    T here were more than a hundred Odells in the phone books of the five boroughs, but no Frank. That established, I sat at my desk at half past nine Friday morning and considered recourses. It wasn’t the kind of problem to discuss with Wolfe, and anyway he wasn’t available. Saul Panzer had come at nine o’clock on the dot, and instead of going up to the plant rooms Wolfe had come down, put on his heavy overcoat and broad-brimmed beaver hat, and followed Saul out to the curb to climb into the Heron sedan. Of course he knew that the heater, if turned on full, could make the inside of the Heron like an oven, but he took the heavy coat because he distrusted all machines more complicated than a wheelbarrow. He would have been expecting to be