“You demonstrate love,” Wolfe said dryly, “by killing your beloved’s surviving parent. Is that it?”
“Yes,” Talbott asserted. “Under certain conditions. Here was the situation. Sigmund Keyes was the most celebrated and successful industrial designer in America, and—”
“Nonsense!” Broadyke exploded, without asking permission to say.
Talbott smiled. “Sometimes,” he said, as if offering it for consideration, “a jealous man is worse than any jealous woman. You know, of course, that Mr. Broadyke is himself an industrial designer — in fact, he practically invented the profession. Not many manufacturers would dream of tooling for a new model — steamship, railroad train, airplane, refrigerator, vacuum cleaner, alarm clock, no matter what — without consulting Broadyke, until I came along and took over the selling end for Sigmund Keyes. Incidentally, that’s why I doubt if Broadyke killed Keyes. If he had got that desperate about it he wouldn’t have killed Keyes, he would have killed me.”
“You were speaking,” Wolfe reminded him, “of love as a motive for murder under certain conditions.”
“Yes, and Broadyke threw me off.” Talbott cocked his head. “Let’s see — oh, yes, and I was doing the selling for Keyes, and he couldn’t stand the talk going around that I was mostly responsible for the big success we were having, but he was afraid to get rid of me. And I loved his daughter and wanted her to marry me, and will always love her. But he had great influence with her, which I did not and do not understand — anyway, if she loved me as I do her that wouldn’t have mattered, but she doesn’t—”
“My God, Vic,” Dorothy protested, “haven’t I said a dozen times I’d marry you like that” — she snapped her fingers — “if it weren’t for Dad? Really, I’m crazy about you!”
“All right,” Talbott told Wolfe, “there’s your motive. It’s certainly old-fashioned, no modern industrial design to it, but it’s absolutely dependable. Naturally that’s what the police thought until they ran up against the fact that I was somewhere else. That got them bewildered and made them sore, and they haven’t recovered their wits, so I guess my good friends here are right that they’re being stupid and ineffective. Not that they’ve crossed me off entirely. I understand they’ve got an army of detectives and stool pigeons hunting for the gunman I hired to do the job. They’ll have to hunt hard. You heard Miss Keyes call me a fool, but I’m not quite fool enough to hire someone to commit a murder for me.”
“I should hope not.” Wolfe sighed. “There’s nothing better than a good motive. What about the alibi? Have the police given up on that?”
“Yes, the damn idiots!” Pohl blurted. “That switchboard girl—”