Plot It Yourself by Rex Stout Page A

to ask some questions, and I no sooner get started than the bell rings and I go to the door, and it's you, and you say you came to see him on business. When you come to see a corpse on business, I know what to expect. I'm asking you, what kind of business?'
    'I told you. Private and personal.'
    'When did you learn Jacobs had been killed'And how'He was identified only an hour ago.'
    'Just now. From you.' I had joined him at the door. 'Let's take a short cut. Sergeant. The long way would be for you to bark at me a while, getting upset because I won't unload, and then you would take me to Homicide West, only a short walk, which you have no right to do, so I would get upset, and then Inspector Cramer would go to see Mr Wolfe, and so on. The short way would be for me to phone Mr Wolfe and get his permission to tell you why I came to see Jacobs, which he would probably give because there's no reason why he shouldn't and it may be connected with his death. You know damn well that without his permission I tell you nothing.'
    'You admit it's connected.'
    'Nuts. You're not the DA and we're not in court. Of course Mr Wolfe will want some details-when and how he was killed, and by whom, if you know.'
    Purley opened his mouth and shut it again. When I have facts he needs, he would like to force them out by jumping up and down on my belly, but for that I would have to be lying on my back.
    'With me listening,' he said.
    'Sure, why not?'
    'Okay. The body was found at two o'clock this afternoon behind a bush in Van Cordandt Park. It had been dragged across the grass from the edge of the road, so it was probably taken there in a car. There was one stab wound in the chest with a broad blade. No weapon found. The ME says between nine o'clock and midnight. Probably nothing taken. Eighteen dollars in his wallet. You can call Wolfe on the phone in here.'
    'Any leads?'
    'No.'
    'When or where he went last night, or who with?'
    'No. I was asking his wife when you came. She says she doesn't know. The phone's in his room, where he worked. Where he wrote. He wrote stories.'
    'I know he did. What time did he go out?'
    'Around eight o'clock. If he had an appointment he made it on the phone and she didn't know anything about it. So she says. I just got started with her. I brought her here from the morgue after she identified the body. She says he told her he was going to see somebody and might be late, and that was all. If Wolfe wants to know what he had in his stomach he'll have to wait until-'
    'Don't be flippant. Where's the phone?'
    We went inside and he shut the door and led the way down the narrow hall to a door on the left. It was a small room with one window, a table with a typewriter, shelves with books and magazines, and a row of drawers. There were two chairs, and on one of them was Mrs Jacobs. I said she wasn't a crone when I saw her five days before, but she was now. I wouldn't have known her. As we entered her eyes came to us. She focused on me, staring, and blurted, 'It was you!'
    'What?' Purley asked her. 'Do you know this man?'
    'I've seen him.' She was on her feet. 'He was here last week. His name's Goodwin. My husband saw him just for a minute, and after he left Simon told me if he ever came again to shut the door on him.' She was trembling all over. 'I knew from the way-'
    'Take it easy, Mrs Jacobs.' Purley had her arm. 'I know this Goodwin. I'll handle him, don't worry. You can tell me about it later.' He was easing her out. 'You go and lie down a while. Drink something. Drink some hot tea& '
    He got her to the hall. In a moment he returned, shut the door, and turned. 'So you've been here before.'
    'Sure. With Mr Wolfe's permission I'll confess everything.'
    'There's the phone.'
    I sat at the table and dialed, and after five rings had Fritz, who always answers when Wolfe is up with the orchids. I told him to buzz the plant rooms, and after a wait Wolfe's voice came. 'Yes?'
    'I have to report another complication. I'm in Simon Jacobs's