By Rex Stout
While a bomb kills his favourite waiter from his favourite eating place, sedentary sleuth and gourmet Nero Wolfe is set to visit any size to discover the killer. Reissue. NYT.
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Extra info for A Family Affair (The Rex Stout Library)
Security. I should have offered you a shot of something. Whiskey? " He said no and he was sorry, and I went shutting the door. As I entered my room, down the hall, I looked at my watch. Seventeen minutes past one. I wouldn't get my eight hours. When I get in that late I usually set my radio-alarm at nine-thirty, but now that wouldn't do. I would have to be up and dressed and telling Wolfe about the company before he went up to the plant rooms at nine o'clock. Of course I have figured how many minutes had passed after I entered my room when it happened.
But leaving anyone loose all night in the office, with the ten thousand items in the files and drawers, many of them with no locks, was of course out of the question. There were four alternatives: persuade him to tell me, go up and wake Wolfe, give him a bed, or bounce him. The first might take an hour, and I was tired and sleepy. The second was inadvisable. If I bounced him, and he couldn't come at eleven in the morning because he was dead, the next time Wolfe lunched or dined in the little upstairs room at Rusterman's he would be served by a new waiter, and that would be regrettable.
Since I left this out of my statement, leaving it for you, you ought to send me a box of candy. " He finally opened his mouth. "Ill send you an orchid. " "Certainly. He would send a squad out to dig up where I recently bought a Don Pedro cigar. " "Put that in a statement some day. " "I guess I forgot. " "Also my brain tells me that the DA will want to know why I didn't bring you down as a material witness. The bomb went off at one-twenty-four, and you were in the room and found him two or three minutes later, and you phoned at two-eleven.