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)
Was he completely normal? " "Yes, sir, there was. I was remembering that when you asked if he said anything about danger. He didn't seem to hear things I said and he didn't talk as much. When I asked him if he would rather eat alone he said he was sorry, that he had got orders mixed at lunch and served people wrong. I thought that explained it. Pierre was a very proud man. He thought a waiter should never make a mistake, and he thought he never did. I don't know, maybe he didn't. You can ask Felix.
The first time in my long experience that he had ever been at a loss for words. He hit the chair arm with a fist. "So. Call Felix. " He looked at the wall clock. "In half an hour. If no upstairs room is available, perhaps on the top floor, if that's convenient. " I said no, got up, went to the phone on the bed-stand, switched it on, and dialed. The top floor at Rusterman's restaurant was once the living quarters of Marko Vukcic, its owner, who had been Wolfe's boyhood friend in Montenegro and one of the only three men I knew who called him by his first name.
All Wolfe had said was that Ducos had told him something and we would go home and discuss it. He doesn't talk when he's walking or in the car. At the garage Tom said a dick had come a little before noon to see if the car was thereof course it had been-and another one had come around four o'clock and asked if he knew where I had gone with it. From there around the comer and half a block on Thirty-fifth Street to the brownstone, more exercise for Wolfe, and I knew why. If I had driven him home and then taken the car to the garage, somebody might be camped on the stoop.