Plot It Yourself

“Wait a minute,” I objected. “What about Fritz and Theodore and me? Okay, Fritz. We’ve had a shock. I shall eat no boiled cucumbers.”

Fritz opened his mouth, closed it again, turned, and went. Wolfe, his fists on the desk, commanded me, “Report.”

Six minutes would have been enough for it, but I thought it would be well to give him time to calm down a little, so I stretched it to ten, and when I ran out of facts I continued, “I would want full price, no discount, for my two guesses-that the knife came from his kitchen drawer, and that he was drugged, unconscious, when he was stabbed. I have another guess on which I’d allow five per cent off for cash, no more-that he had been dead eighty hours. Between eighty and eighty-five. He was killed late Wednesday night. X went straight to him after killing Jane Ogilvy. If he had put it off until after the news about Jane Ogilvy was out, Rennert would have been too much on his guard to let X put something in his drink. Rennert may or may not have suspected that X had killed Simon Jacobs, since nothing had been published connecting his death with the plagiarism charge he had made three years ago. But if Rennert had known about Jane Ogilvy too, he certainly would have suspected. Hell, he would have known. So X couldn’t wait, and he didn’t. He went to Rennert to discuss their claim against Mortimer Oshin, knowing that Rennert would offer him a drink. He offered me one before I had been in his place three minutes.”

I stopped for breath. Wolfe opened his fists and worked his fingers.

“Three comments,” I said. “First, one question is answered-whether Rennert’s operation was independent or was one of X’s string. X has answered that for us. I admit it doesn’t help any, with Rennert dead, but it makes it neater, and you like things neat. Second, with Rennert dead, his claim against Mortimer Oshin is dead too, and Oshin may want his ten grand back, and the committee may fire you tomorrow, and the Alice Porter surveillance is costing over three hundred bucks a day. Third, your beer and meat pledge. We’ll ignore it. You were temporarily off your nut. This is tough enough as it is, and with you starving and dying of thirst it would be impossible.” I left my chair. “I’ll bring the beer.”

“No.” He made fists again. “I have committed myself. Sit down.”

“God help us,” I said, and sat.

Chapter 14