it over. I'll do that. I'll think it over. Right now, as I said, I'm not going to talk about it. Not a word.' She arose.
'But that was when you thought Mr Wolfe had been hired by the Victory Press or Amy Wynn.'
'I don't care who hired him, I'm not talking. You'll have to excuse me. I've got things to do.' She headed for the door of the house. The mutt glanced at me and then at her, decided she was the best bet, and trotted after her. I went and got in the car and started the engine. On the stretch of blacktop a man with a bunch of wild columbine in his hand was following a herd of forty-seven cows (actual count; a detective is supposed to observe) who all had the same idea, that they would rather get hit by a Heron sedan than get milked, and it took me five minutes to get through.
Saturday afternoon at Lily Rowan's place, or it may have been Sunday afternoon, when half a dozen of us were loafing in the sun by the swimming pool, I told them about the incident on the terrace at Riverdale, leaving out the name and address and why I was there, and asked if they thought she was batty. The three women voted no and the two men yes, and of course that proved something but I still haven't decided what.
At midnight Sunday, full of air and with a sunburned nose, I dropped my bag in the hall of the old brownstone, went to the office, and found a note on my desk:
AG:
Mr Harvey phoned Saturday morning. He with come with his committee Monday at eleven-fifteen.
NW
Nero Wolfe 32 - Plot It Yourself
Chapter 6
This time there were seven instead of six. In addition to the three from the BPA-Gerald Knapp, Thomas Dexter, and Reuben Imhof-and the three from NAAD-Amy Wynn, Mortimer Oshin, and Philip Harvey-there was a middle-aged woman named Cora Ballard whose spine stayed as stiff as a poker both standing and sitting. Harvey had explained that she was not a committee member but was there ex officio. She was the executive secretary of the NAAD. Harvey had seen to it that she was seated next to him, at his left. I had noted glances directed at her by Dexter and Knapp which led me to suspect that in a national poll to choose the Secretary of the Year the book publishers' vote would not go to Cora Ballard, and her return glances indicated that she most certainly wouldn't want it to. She had a stenographer's notebook on her lap and a pencil in her hand.
Philip Harvey, in the red leather chair, was yawning, probably because he had had to get up and out before noon for the second time in a week. Gerald Knapp was explaining that he had been willing to cancel two appointments in order to be present because he agreed with Mr Imhof that the charge now made by Alice Porter against Amy Wynn and the Victory Press made it imperative that immediate and vigorous action be taken, and he agreed with Mr Harvey that they should see Mr Wolfe in a body to learn what progress had been made. Wolfe, his lips pressed tight, sat and scowled at him.
'That is,' Knapp finished, 'if there has been any progress. Has there?'
'No,' Wolfe said. 'To the contrary. There has been regress.'
They all stared. Cora Ballard said, 'Really.' Mortimer Oshin demanded, 'How the hell could there be?'
Wolfe took a breath. 'I'll explain briefly, and if you would like me to return the five thousand dollars you have advanced you have only to say so. I told you last Tuesday that this may be a laborious and costly operation; it now appears that it may take more labour than I am prepared to give, and cost more than you are prepared to pay. You were assuming that Alice Porter's success in hoodwinking Ellen Sturdevant had led others to imitate her, but you were wrong. Alice Porter was merely a tool, and so were Simon Jacobs, Jane Ogilvy, and Kenneth Rennert.'
Cora Ballard looked up from her notebook. 'Did you say 'tool'?'
'I did. Two steps brought me to that conclusion. The first resulted from my examination of the stories used by the three first-named as the bases of their claims. They were
'But that was when you thought Mr Wolfe had been hired by the Victory Press or Amy Wynn.'
'I don't care who hired him, I'm not talking. You'll have to excuse me. I've got things to do.' She headed for the door of the house. The mutt glanced at me and then at her, decided she was the best bet, and trotted after her. I went and got in the car and started the engine. On the stretch of blacktop a man with a bunch of wild columbine in his hand was following a herd of forty-seven cows (actual count; a detective is supposed to observe) who all had the same idea, that they would rather get hit by a Heron sedan than get milked, and it took me five minutes to get through.
Saturday afternoon at Lily Rowan's place, or it may have been Sunday afternoon, when half a dozen of us were loafing in the sun by the swimming pool, I told them about the incident on the terrace at Riverdale, leaving out the name and address and why I was there, and asked if they thought she was batty. The three women voted no and the two men yes, and of course that proved something but I still haven't decided what.
At midnight Sunday, full of air and with a sunburned nose, I dropped my bag in the hall of the old brownstone, went to the office, and found a note on my desk:
AG:
Mr Harvey phoned Saturday morning. He with come with his committee Monday at eleven-fifteen.
NW
Nero Wolfe 32 - Plot It Yourself
Chapter 6
This time there were seven instead of six. In addition to the three from the BPA-Gerald Knapp, Thomas Dexter, and Reuben Imhof-and the three from NAAD-Amy Wynn, Mortimer Oshin, and Philip Harvey-there was a middle-aged woman named Cora Ballard whose spine stayed as stiff as a poker both standing and sitting. Harvey had explained that she was not a committee member but was there ex officio. She was the executive secretary of the NAAD. Harvey had seen to it that she was seated next to him, at his left. I had noted glances directed at her by Dexter and Knapp which led me to suspect that in a national poll to choose the Secretary of the Year the book publishers' vote would not go to Cora Ballard, and her return glances indicated that she most certainly wouldn't want it to. She had a stenographer's notebook on her lap and a pencil in her hand.
Philip Harvey, in the red leather chair, was yawning, probably because he had had to get up and out before noon for the second time in a week. Gerald Knapp was explaining that he had been willing to cancel two appointments in order to be present because he agreed with Mr Imhof that the charge now made by Alice Porter against Amy Wynn and the Victory Press made it imperative that immediate and vigorous action be taken, and he agreed with Mr Harvey that they should see Mr Wolfe in a body to learn what progress had been made. Wolfe, his lips pressed tight, sat and scowled at him.
'That is,' Knapp finished, 'if there has been any progress. Has there?'
'No,' Wolfe said. 'To the contrary. There has been regress.'
They all stared. Cora Ballard said, 'Really.' Mortimer Oshin demanded, 'How the hell could there be?'
Wolfe took a breath. 'I'll explain briefly, and if you would like me to return the five thousand dollars you have advanced you have only to say so. I told you last Tuesday that this may be a laborious and costly operation; it now appears that it may take more labour than I am prepared to give, and cost more than you are prepared to pay. You were assuming that Alice Porter's success in hoodwinking Ellen Sturdevant had led others to imitate her, but you were wrong. Alice Porter was merely a tool, and so were Simon Jacobs, Jane Ogilvy, and Kenneth Rennert.'
Cora Ballard looked up from her notebook. 'Did you say 'tool'?'
'I did. Two steps brought me to that conclusion. The first resulted from my examination of the stories used by the three first-named as the bases of their claims. They were
Similar Books
