You have seen Jett and talked with him. It could be that she merely wanted to find out if we already knew who it was, and if so she might have named the right one and she might not. Or it might have been a real squeal; she decided that Jett killed Bertha Aaron, and either she loves justice no matter what it costs her, or she was afraid Jett might break and her spot would be too hot for comfort. I prefer the latter. Or it wasn’t Jett, it was Edey or Heydecker, and she is trying to ball it up—and she may be sore at Jett on account of the episode. If it backfires, if we already know it was Edey or Heydecker,what the hell. Telling me on the phone isn’t swearing to it on the stand. She can deny she called me. Or she might—”
“That’s enough for now. Have you a choice?”
“No, sir. I told you she’s a gem.”
He grunted. He reached for a piece of onion, put it in his mouth, and chewed. When it was down he asked Fritz, “Ebenezer?” and Fritz told him no, Elite. He turned to me. “In any case, she has ripped it open. Even if she is merely trying to muddle it we can’t afford to assume that she hasn’t communicated with him—or soon will.”
“She couldn’t unless he phoned her. They’ve been at the DA’s office all morning.”
He nodded. “Then we’ll tell him first. You’ll have to recant.”
“Right. Do we save anything?”
“I think not. The gist first and we’ll see.”
He made for the door. In the hall we heard a voice from the office, Edey’s thin tenor, but it stopped as we appeared. As I passed in front of Heydecker he stuck a foot out, but possibly not to trip me; he may have been merely shifting in his chair.
When Wolfe was settled in his he spoke. “Gentlemen, Mr. Goodwin and I have decided that you deserve candor. That was Mrs. Morton Sorell on the phone. What she said persuaded us—”
“Did you say
Sorell?”
Heydecker demanded. He was gawking and so was Edey. Evidently Jett never gawked.
“I did. Archie?”
I focused on Heydecker. “If she had called twenty seconds earlier,” I told him, “I wouldn’t have had to waste a lie. I did insist on knowing the nature of Bertha Aaron’s case before I went to Mr. Wolfe, and she told me. She said she had accidentally seen a member of the firm in secret conference with Mrs. Morton Sorell, the firm’s opponent in an important case. She said that after worrying about it for a week she had told him about it that afternoon, yesterday, and asked for anexplanation, and he didn’t have one, so he was a traitor. She said she was afraid to tell Mr. Otis because he had a weak heart and it might kill him, and she wouldn’t tell another firm member because he might be a traitor too. So she had come to Nero Wolfe.”
I had been wrong about Jett. Now he was gawking too. He found his tongue first. “This is incredible. I don’t believe it!”
“Nor I,” Heydecker said.
“Nor I,” Edey said, his tenor a squeak.
“Do you expect us to believe,” Heydecker demanded, “that Bertha Aaron would come to an outsider with a story that would gravely damage the firm if it became known?”
Wolfe cut in. “No more cross-examination, Mr. Heydecker. I indulged you before, but not now. If questions are to be asked I’ll do the asking. As for Mr. Goodwin’s bona fides, he has given a signed statement to the police, and he is not an ass. Also—”
“The police?” Edey squeaked. “Good God!”
“It’s absolutely incredible,” Jett declared.
Wolfe ignored them. “Also I allowed Mr. Otis to read a copy of the statement when he came here last night. He agreed not to divulge its contents when he came here last night. He agreed not to divulge its contents before ten o’clock tomorrow morning, to give me till then to plan a course—a course based on the natural assumption that Miss Aaron was killed by the man she had accused of treachery—an assumption I share with the police. Evidently the police have preferred to reserve the
“That’s enough for now. Have you a choice?”
“No, sir. I told you she’s a gem.”
He grunted. He reached for a piece of onion, put it in his mouth, and chewed. When it was down he asked Fritz, “Ebenezer?” and Fritz told him no, Elite. He turned to me. “In any case, she has ripped it open. Even if she is merely trying to muddle it we can’t afford to assume that she hasn’t communicated with him—or soon will.”
“She couldn’t unless he phoned her. They’ve been at the DA’s office all morning.”
He nodded. “Then we’ll tell him first. You’ll have to recant.”
“Right. Do we save anything?”
“I think not. The gist first and we’ll see.”
He made for the door. In the hall we heard a voice from the office, Edey’s thin tenor, but it stopped as we appeared. As I passed in front of Heydecker he stuck a foot out, but possibly not to trip me; he may have been merely shifting in his chair.
When Wolfe was settled in his he spoke. “Gentlemen, Mr. Goodwin and I have decided that you deserve candor. That was Mrs. Morton Sorell on the phone. What she said persuaded us—”
“Did you say
Sorell?”
Heydecker demanded. He was gawking and so was Edey. Evidently Jett never gawked.
“I did. Archie?”
I focused on Heydecker. “If she had called twenty seconds earlier,” I told him, “I wouldn’t have had to waste a lie. I did insist on knowing the nature of Bertha Aaron’s case before I went to Mr. Wolfe, and she told me. She said she had accidentally seen a member of the firm in secret conference with Mrs. Morton Sorell, the firm’s opponent in an important case. She said that after worrying about it for a week she had told him about it that afternoon, yesterday, and asked for anexplanation, and he didn’t have one, so he was a traitor. She said she was afraid to tell Mr. Otis because he had a weak heart and it might kill him, and she wouldn’t tell another firm member because he might be a traitor too. So she had come to Nero Wolfe.”
I had been wrong about Jett. Now he was gawking too. He found his tongue first. “This is incredible. I don’t believe it!”
“Nor I,” Heydecker said.
“Nor I,” Edey said, his tenor a squeak.
“Do you expect us to believe,” Heydecker demanded, “that Bertha Aaron would come to an outsider with a story that would gravely damage the firm if it became known?”
Wolfe cut in. “No more cross-examination, Mr. Heydecker. I indulged you before, but not now. If questions are to be asked I’ll do the asking. As for Mr. Goodwin’s bona fides, he has given a signed statement to the police, and he is not an ass. Also—”
“The police?” Edey squeaked. “Good God!”
“It’s absolutely incredible,” Jett declared.
Wolfe ignored them. “Also I allowed Mr. Otis to read a copy of the statement when he came here last night. He agreed not to divulge its contents when he came here last night. He agreed not to divulge its contents before ten o’clock tomorrow morning, to give me till then to plan a course—a course based on the natural assumption that Miss Aaron was killed by the man she had accused of treachery—an assumption I share with the police. Evidently the police have preferred to reserve the
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