Rex Stout by The Mountain Cat

with deluxe books, and four heads of bucks, mounted, as she knew, by her Uncle Quin, she sat and looked at him. He looked like Wyoming, with his lean old face, his tough oil-bereft skin, his watchful eyes withdrawnbehind their wrinkled ramparts from the cruel and brilliant sun. He inserted a thumb and finger into the small pocket of his flannel trousers and pulled out a little cylinder, apparently of gold, which looked like a lipstick holder; removing the cap, he shook it over his palm and a quill toothpick fell out. As he used it, his teeth looked as white as a coyote’s.
    “Turkey gets in your teeth worse than chicken or beef,” he stated. “Seems to shred or something.” He flipped detritus from the point of the pick with a finger. “What’s on your mind, Dellie? I’ve got some important business to finish with that specimen of a man out there.”
    “Clara.”
    “What’s wrong with her? Sick?”
    “She’s lost her job. Jackson fired her.”
    The old man’s hand halted in midair, brandishing the toothpick like a miniature dagger. “When?” he demanded.
    “Yesterday. She is to leave Saturday.”
    “What for?”
    “Jackson says they don’t get along together and that she’ll be better off somewhere else. I just saw him this afternoon and that’s all he said. My own opinion is that there’s somebody he wants there, I don’t know who, and it’s none of my business. But you know the whole country talks about his—the way he likes women.”
    Lem Sammis looked uncomfortable. “At your age, Dellie, I should think that kind of talk …”
    Delia nearly smiled. “I know, Mr. Sammis, you’re a prude and anyway I shouldn’t have mentioned it. I suspected you didn’t know about Clara’s being fired, and when I threatened to come to you about it and Jackson said he wished I wouldn’t, I was sure. He also said hewas the boss and he was running that office, which struck me as funny, because I always thought you were the real owner of it and always had been, even when the name on the door was Brand & Jackson.”
    “So he’s the boss. Huh?”
    “That’s what he said.”
    Sammis leaned back in his chair and took in air with his mouth open, then expelled it by the same route, with a noise like a valve held open on an inflated tire. The duration of the noise spoke well for the condition of his lungs. His eyes behind their barricades were still the old Sammis poker eyes.
    “Dellie,” he asked as if requesting a favor, “will you kindly tell me something? Will you kindly explain how my and my wife’s daughter Amy ever happened to stake a claim to a patch of alkali dust like Dan Jackson?”
    “I don’t know, Mr. Sammis.”
    “Neither do I and I never will.” The old man frowned at the toothpick, screwing up his lips.
    After a moment Delia ventured, “And about Clara …”
    “Sure, Clara. Him having the gall to fire Charlie Brand’s daughter! The fact is, I’ve about decided to give up grubstaking. I’m nearly seventy years old, and it’s no better than a dogfight with a bunch of pikers edging in, including that what’s-her-name woman buying off my men. I hear she’s just come back with another divorce. I can’t keep an eye on it any more.”
    “You won’t close up the office!” Delia exclaimed in dismay.
    “No, I guess not. I’d hate to see that old office shut up for good. As a matter of fact, I’d put Clara in charge if I could think of anything else to do with Dan Jackson.”He added bitterly, “I might put him to renting rowboats out on Pyramid Lake.”
    “Then Clara won’t be fired?”
    “She will not. No, ma’am. I’ll see Dan maybe tonight, or more likely tomorrow.” He got up. “It’s going on six o’clock and I don’t want that fellow staying for supper. Anything else on your mind, Dellie?”
    “Yes. I’d like to have the satisfaction—I have a particular reason for wanting to get this done today, done and finished. Just a personal reason. Of course I know