The day after Mr Brodell arrived Mr Greve said in the hearing of two men, ‘A varmint with that thick a hide isn’t fit to live.’ Also-“
“He said ain’t, not isn’t. I heard him. You could stand the ‘varmint,’ but the ‘ain’t’ was too much for you.”
“The meaning was intact. Also, on Friday afternoon, the day after Brodell was killed, he drove to Timberburg and bought a bottle of champagne, which was unprecedented, and that evening he and his wife and daughter drank it. Also-“
“That was a phone call. Knowing how Harvey felt about Brodell, I was surprised he didn’t buy two bottles, or a case and throw a party.” I drank milk.
“And the next day, Saturday, when Brodell’s father, who had come from St. Louis for the body, went to see Mr Greve, he assaulted him.”
“He clipped him and gave him a shiner. That was regrettable, no matter what the father had said to ask for it, since he’s too old to be poked, but everybody knows that it’s not a good idea to pull Harvey’s nose or loosen his cinch. Also?”
“Isn’t that enough?”
“It’s probably enough for a jury, and that’s the nut. That covers the phone call?”
“Sufficiently.”
“Then it’s my turn. In that letter I offered you fifty to one, and I still do. I know Harvey Greve and so does Miss Rowan. I haven’t got one measly scrap of evidence for him, and none against anyone else, but I know him. Did the Attorney General mention that the first bullet that hit Brodell, in the shoulder, came from behind him?”
“No.” He had opened the second bottle and poured.
“Well, it did. He was standing on a boulder, facing uphill, picking huckleberries, and X sneaked from downhill to easy range. The first bullet turned him around, so he was facing X when the second bullet got him in the neck and killed him. All right, that settles it. X was not Harvey Greve. I’ll believe that Harvey Greve shot a man in the back, no warning, when I see you cut up a dill pickle, put maple syrup on it, and eat it with a spoon. And even if I could believe he shot a man in the back I still wouldn’t believe he shot Brodell. Everybody knows there’s no better shot around. If he shot at a man’s back he wouldn’t hit his shoulder. And the second shot, in the neck'Nuts.”
He was frowning. He drank and put the glass down. “Archie. Your emotions are blocking your mental processes. If it is generally known that he is a good shot, making it appear that X wasn’t would be a serviceable subterfuge.”
“Not for Harvey. He hasn’t got that kind of mind. Subterfuge is not only not in his vocabulary, it’s not in his nature. But that’s just talk. The point is that he would not sneak up on a man and shoot him in the back. Not a chance. Hell, make it a hundred to one.”
The wrinkles of the frown were deeper. “This must be flummery. Certainly it isn’t candor. Basing a firm conclusion of a man’s guilt or innocence-not merely a conjecture-solely on your knowledge of his character'That’s tommyrot and you know it. Pfui.”
I gave him a wide grin. “Good. Now I’ve got you cold. You were right, your brain isn’t functioning properly. Less than three years ago you formed a firm conclusion on Orrie Gather’s guilt or innocence solely on Saul Panzer’s knowledge of his character. You also consulted Fred and me, but we were on the fence. Saul decided it. [see Death of a doxy] It’s too bad I don’t rate as high as Saul. And I have backing. Miss Rowan’s conclusion is as firm as mine, but I admit she’s a woman. There’s a plane that leaves Helena at eleven in the morning. If I find I can’t make it back in time to vote on November fifth I’ll send for an absentee ballot.”
The frown was gone, but his lips had tightened to a thin straight line. He poured the rest of the second bottle, watched the bead go down, picked up the glass, and drank. When his lips had been licked, they didn’t tighten again. He twisted his head around for
“He said ain’t, not isn’t. I heard him. You could stand the ‘varmint,’ but the ‘ain’t’ was too much for you.”
“The meaning was intact. Also, on Friday afternoon, the day after Brodell was killed, he drove to Timberburg and bought a bottle of champagne, which was unprecedented, and that evening he and his wife and daughter drank it. Also-“
“That was a phone call. Knowing how Harvey felt about Brodell, I was surprised he didn’t buy two bottles, or a case and throw a party.” I drank milk.
“And the next day, Saturday, when Brodell’s father, who had come from St. Louis for the body, went to see Mr Greve, he assaulted him.”
“He clipped him and gave him a shiner. That was regrettable, no matter what the father had said to ask for it, since he’s too old to be poked, but everybody knows that it’s not a good idea to pull Harvey’s nose or loosen his cinch. Also?”
“Isn’t that enough?”
“It’s probably enough for a jury, and that’s the nut. That covers the phone call?”
“Sufficiently.”
“Then it’s my turn. In that letter I offered you fifty to one, and I still do. I know Harvey Greve and so does Miss Rowan. I haven’t got one measly scrap of evidence for him, and none against anyone else, but I know him. Did the Attorney General mention that the first bullet that hit Brodell, in the shoulder, came from behind him?”
“No.” He had opened the second bottle and poured.
“Well, it did. He was standing on a boulder, facing uphill, picking huckleberries, and X sneaked from downhill to easy range. The first bullet turned him around, so he was facing X when the second bullet got him in the neck and killed him. All right, that settles it. X was not Harvey Greve. I’ll believe that Harvey Greve shot a man in the back, no warning, when I see you cut up a dill pickle, put maple syrup on it, and eat it with a spoon. And even if I could believe he shot a man in the back I still wouldn’t believe he shot Brodell. Everybody knows there’s no better shot around. If he shot at a man’s back he wouldn’t hit his shoulder. And the second shot, in the neck'Nuts.”
He was frowning. He drank and put the glass down. “Archie. Your emotions are blocking your mental processes. If it is generally known that he is a good shot, making it appear that X wasn’t would be a serviceable subterfuge.”
“Not for Harvey. He hasn’t got that kind of mind. Subterfuge is not only not in his vocabulary, it’s not in his nature. But that’s just talk. The point is that he would not sneak up on a man and shoot him in the back. Not a chance. Hell, make it a hundred to one.”
The wrinkles of the frown were deeper. “This must be flummery. Certainly it isn’t candor. Basing a firm conclusion of a man’s guilt or innocence-not merely a conjecture-solely on your knowledge of his character'That’s tommyrot and you know it. Pfui.”
I gave him a wide grin. “Good. Now I’ve got you cold. You were right, your brain isn’t functioning properly. Less than three years ago you formed a firm conclusion on Orrie Gather’s guilt or innocence solely on Saul Panzer’s knowledge of his character. You also consulted Fred and me, but we were on the fence. Saul decided it. [see Death of a doxy] It’s too bad I don’t rate as high as Saul. And I have backing. Miss Rowan’s conclusion is as firm as mine, but I admit she’s a woman. There’s a plane that leaves Helena at eleven in the morning. If I find I can’t make it back in time to vote on November fifth I’ll send for an absentee ballot.”
The frown was gone, but his lips had tightened to a thin straight line. He poured the rest of the second bottle, watched the bead go down, picked up the glass, and drank. When his lips had been licked, they didn’t tighten again. He twisted his head around for
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