Tag Archives: Rex Stout

Over My Dead Body – Rex Stout

Over My Dead Body: A Nero Wolfe Mystery – Rex Stout I read the Kindle Edition. This is the seventh Nero Wolfe novel and was published in 1940. This book stands out in the Wolfe cannon as stating that Nero was born in America but this is not the case. In a subsequent interview Rex Stout says that Nero was not being completely forthright with the G man intruding in his personal affairs. This story is a classic mystery but with much fewer clues that the usual Rex Stout story imbedded within making this a relative difficult whodunnit… basically it comes down to guesswork after multiple suspects are interrogated and eliminated.

As it is, the plot begins as a young Montenegrin woman arrives at Wolfe’s office to plead for his help in a case involving a friend of hers, also Montenegrin, whose been accused of stealing diamonds. After a brief discussion, the young lady accused may be Wolfe’s adopted daughter. Archie is dispatched to look into the matter.

While looking into this at the fencing studio where both women are employed. Wolfe’s daughter has an apparent alibi corroborated by an English customer. As the situation is being resolved, the Englishman is found murdered in one of the training rooms of the studio. While the police are summoned to investigate this, Archie finds that the murder weapon is wrapped in a fencing glove and nestled in the pocket of his overcoat hanging in the office where all the customers and staff of the studio where congregated.

As this fencing glove and its item, may implicate Wolfe’s daughter, Archie returns to Wolfe’s with it while the police are investigating back at the Studio. At this point, Inspector Cramer arrives at Wolfe’s suspecting that with all the foreign intrigues and suspects, he came solve the case quicker by camping out at Wolfe’s. Wolfe, in a unusual manner agrees to let him stay and oversee the operations.

Most of the cast of suspects are brought before Nero at his office in what is to be his customary trademark. They are questioned vigorously with Cramer observing… after some time, deductions are made and Wolfe reveals the murder and the motive… in classic, customary style.

Ps. This is a really good episode in Nero Wolfe Mysteries from A&E Network!

“Have you registered?”
“No. I am not an agent of a foreign principal.”
The G-man threw one knee over the other. “The law applies to agents of foreign firms, individuals or organizations, as well as to foreign governments.”
“So I understand.”
“It also applies, here, both to aliens and to citizens. Are you a citizen of the United States?”
“I am. I was born in this country.”
“You were at one time an agent of the Austrian government?”
“Briefly, as a boy. Not here, abroad. I quit.”
“And joined the Montenegrin army?”
“Later, but still a boy. I then believed that all misguided or cruel people should be shot, and I shot some. I starved to death in 1916.”
The G-man looked startled. “I beg your pardon?”
“I said I starved to death. When the Austrians came and we fought machine guns with fingernails. Logically I was dead; a man can’t live on dry grass. Actually I went on breathing. When the United States entered the war and I walked six hundred miles to join the A. E. F., I ate again. When it ended I returned to the Balkans, shed another illusion, and came back to America.”
“Hvala Bogu,” I put in brightly.
Stahl, startled again, shot me a glance. “I beg your pardon? Are you a Montenegrin?”
“Nope. Pure Ohio. The ejaculation was involuntary.”

Bitter End – Rex Stout

Bitter End: The First Nero Wolfe Novella – Rex Stout . I read the Kindle Edition of the original story published in 1940. A classic who-dunit mystery. The clues are there to follow for the observant.

The story starts out where someone has evidently tampered with a jar of pate at the residence of one Nero Wolfe. Poison is suspected and an outraged Wolfe vows to find the dastardly culprit behind this assault on his palate. As fate would have it, Miss Duncan, niece to My Tingley of Tingley’s Tidbits who makes the pate, arrives to engage Wolfe to investigate the product tampering. Among the close knit circle of suspects is: Miss Yates, in charge of production; Mr Cliff, a VP of a competing firm; Philip, Mr Tingley’s adopted son; Mr Judd, a mysterious banker who is also looking to buy Tingley’s Tidbits; and Miss Murphy, assistant to Miss Yates.

The investigation takes a turn for the worse when Mr Tingley is found murdered in his office and Miss Duncan apparently struck unconscious at the scene. The homicide brings Wolfe’s foil Inspector Cramer into the story. With the looting of papers at Tingley’s office, the murder may not be related to the product tampering, but rather the curious birth and adoption of Philip who may be set to inherit the business.

But in the end, deductive reasoning and a careful examination of the facts presented soon turns up the guilty party. And the description, the narrative… its first rate!

It sure was a ramshackle joint. From a dingy hall a dilapidated stair went up. I mounted to the floor above, heard noises, including machinery humming, off somewhere, and through a rickety door penetrated a partition and was in an anteroom. From behind a grilled window somebody’s grandpa peered out at me, and by shouting I managed to convey to him that I wanted to see Mr. Arthur Tingley. After a wait I was told that Mr. Tingley was busy, and would be indefinitely. On a leaf of my notebook I wrote, “Quinine urgent,” and sent it in. That did it. After another wait a cross-eyed young man came and guided me through a labyrinth of partitions and down a hall into a room.

Seated at an old, battered roll-top desk was a man talking into a phone, and in a chair facing him was a woman older than him with the physique and facial equipment of a top sergeant. Since the phone conversation was none of my business, I stood and listened to it, and gathered that someone named Philip had better put in an appearance by five o’clock or else. Meanwhile I surveyed the room, which had apparently been thrown in by the Indians when they sold the island. By the door, partly concealed by a screen, was an old, veteran marble-topped washstand. A massive, old-fashioned safe was against the wall across from Tingley’s desk. Wooden cupboards, and shelves loaded down with the accumulation of centuries, occupied most of the remaining wall space.

“Who the hell are you?”