Rex Stout_Tecumseh Fox 01 by Double for Death

other and observed, “That’s a good example of it.”
    “Of what?” The district attorney shifted the scowl to him.
    “Of authority. The insolence of it. My father had it too; that’s why I only lasted in his office a couple of weeks when I was started in there to learn the tricks. Here you are saying Fox will dine on the county before you even see him. How do you know but what he found Luke and Kester hiding on a desert island, and was bringing them in to you?”
    “I don’t, Mr. Thorpe. But I think I am justified in making the tentative assumption, since Fox had not communicated—”
    “All right, forget it.” Jeffrey waved it away. “Anyhow, this ought to lift a lot of fog for you, since Luke was apparently right there when it happened. I might suggest that you don’t try to bully Luke. I got on to Luke when I was knee-high to him and wanted little favors. Get him sympathetic and you can have his shirt, but he won’t take bluster. Kester—do you know Kester?”
    “No, I’ve never met him.”
    “Well, there’s one that was made to order for an authoritative bird like you. You can twist him around your little finger—provided you limber him up first with a few good blows with a sledge hammer. How the devil he happens to be with Luke, or Luke with him—can you figure that one, Sis? How come?”
    “I have no idea, Jiffy.”
    “So have I.” He returned to authority. “You were telling me that you have good reason to suspect something.”
    Derwin nodded. “Yes, Mr. Thorpe, I have. It appears, in the first place, that Grant’s niece was not as complete a stranger to your father as she pretends and secondly, that she has not told the truth regarding her movements at the bungalow Sunday evening. I assure you I am not exercising the insolence of authority; I am stating facts; or at least inferences weighted by a preponderance of likelihood. In view of that, in view of my earnest conviction that any and every detail of Nancy Grant’s previous contacts with any member of your family may be relevant to the murder of your father and should be disclosed to the author—uh—to those conducting the investigation, I strongly urge you to tell me—”
    “About her previous contacts with this member of the family. Little Jeff.”
    “Yes. I strongly advise—”
    “I heard you.” Jeffrey uncrossed his knees and leaned forward. “Now here. You heard what my sister told you yesterday. Down in our hearts, taking it for granted that we’ve got hearts, I guess she and I are both a little bitter about our father. That is, we were. Not that he was cruel or anything romantic like that; he just didn’t fill the bill. To look at me now, sophisticated, blasé, hard-boiled, on speaking terms with theheadwaiter at Rusterman’s, you would never suppose that I once wept tears because Johnny Holcomb’s father—you see, by God, to this day I remember his name—spent a whole afternoon at the zoo with him, whereas my father not only wouldn’t take me to the zoo, he wouldn’t even take time to let me tell him what I saw when I was taken by the assistant governess, who had the teeth of a gnawing rodent, such as a beaver. Her name was Miss Jandorf.”
    “Lefcourt,” said Miranda.
    “No, damn it, it was Jandorf. Lefcourt took me to the aquarium—My sister was correct yesterday when she said that we have batted close to a thousand as orphans since our mother died. The murder of our father was deplorable and naturally it gave us a jolt, but to say it made our hearts heavy with grief—still taking it for granted that we’ve got hearts—that would be bunk. Nor are we out yelling for blood, because we don’t happen to be the vindictive type. In spite of which, I hope you catch the bird who did it and if I had any information that could possibly help you, I’d hand it over. I told you so yesterday morning. Which brings me to the point, namely, that if a million G-men investigated a million years they wouldn’t find any