This is probably my favorite of the short story collections. If not for the penchant of putting "Three" in the titles, this one could have been called something like "Formidable Females" because nearly all the women in the stories are forces to be reckoned with. I'll take them in reverse order of liking.
"Method Three for Murder"
Archie often speaks of quitting, or threatening to quit, being fired, or being threatened to be fired, but this was one of the rare occasions where we actually saw him walk out. After having arranged a short appointment with Wolfe for an acquaintance, he is infuriated when Wolfe casually brushes it off. He knows that the resignation is hardly likely to be final, but it is serious. He heads out the door and smack into his first client as an independent operator. He sets up shop on Wolfe's stoop (planning to slip a dollar under the door for rent afterwards) and listens to Mira Holt's wild tale, knowing perfectly well that it is just a tale, but wanting to know where its going. It goes right out to the sidewalk in front of the brownstone, with a body in a taxicab. When the police show up and things start to escalate, Wolfe invites them to borrow his office, then offers to assist in the case, eventually revealing that he had, after all, accepted the appointment Archie had made for him as his agent. (Far better to fire Archie than have Archie quit on him!)
At one point in the story, after Mira has been hauled off to jail, her estranged husband bursts into Wolfe's office, accusing Wolfe of "alienating the affection of my wife". Wolfe dryly corrects his diction, pointing out that in such context, the plural "affections" is used. In my paperback edition, some jerk of an editor, seeing that the diction was wrong, and not bothering to read the very next line which showed that Stout wrote it wrong ON PURPOSE, took it on himself to "correct" the word and make it plural, and thereby made the whole scene nonsensical. I have no idea if subsequent editions corrected the correction.
Husband Waldo was a odd one. Having been told that Judy Bram had called him a "sophisticated ape", he refused to believe it, saying that they were quoting his wife, instead. Wolfe found this interesting and suggestive. I wish that Stout had included a scene with Waldo and Judy confronting each other, because Waldo clearly has ideas about Judy, whereas she considers him something to scrape off her shoe. Judy is quite a character, an early prototype of Julie Jacquette, a smart, tough woman who knows what men are good for and what they're not good for. Her scene with Cramer is priceless.
The murder itself is an eye-opener. An obvious clue--one of those forehead-smacking ones that Archie knows he should have seen right away--leads them quickly to the solution, which is one of the most vicious, savage killings in the entire Corpus. (I read recently that the Wolfe Pack prefers to regard Stout's work in its entirety as the Corpus, rather than the Canon, which sounds rather appropriate for murder mysteries.)
"The Rodeo Murder"
In which Wolfe leaves the house to partake of huckleberry-fed blue grouse. It was interesting to learn of blue grouse, and I suppose nothing less would have drawn Wolfe out, but I was rather irked at Lily so blithely slaughtering 20 protected birds to feed her guests. Wouldn't it have been more to the point to feed her visiting Westerners with the best of Eastern/New York cuisine? Another point that occurred to me the other day, after having read this story countless times--Lily's penthouse is, I believe, on the tenth floor of her building. They had the roping contest on her terrace, which means the cowboys were using ropes that were...ten stories long? Really? I know that cowboys need a good length of rope for gettin' after them dogies, but...ten stories long? Not to mention the little matter of winds gusting between the buildings. Yup.
Lily asks for Wolfe's assistance in this one, largely because of the "abuse of hospitality" wherein a man was murdered under her roof--but also because the police and the DA insisted on treating her like an ordinary citizen instead of one of the privileged rich. I'm reminded that Lily is not one of my favorite people.
The fun of this story is in the characters, particularly the erstwhile lovers, "Loco" Laura Jay and "Silent Cal" Barrows, who might possibly have eventually popped the question over the next ten to fifteen years if circumstances hadn't speeded things up. Laura, having gotten bruised by a bronc's bridle (say that five times fast) was embarrassed to admit her clumsiness to Cal, so instead she claimed that she was injured when one of the promoters of the World Series Rodeo took her to his apartment (claiming he was having a party) and then assaulted her. The incident had actually happened to another cowgirl, Nan. Laura hoped that the story would encourage Cal's interest and protective feelings, and that he would "ride herd" on her for the remainder of their stay in New York and maybe realize it was time to break out the bridle. It worked, but not the way she anticipated: Cal planned to quietly "take some hide" off the toad, with Archie's assistance, once the rodeo was completed. When the toad turned up dead, Laura instantly assumed that Cal murdered him for her sake. Archie already knows Cal well enough to know that if he was driven to kill him, it would be with his fists, not strangling him, and certainly not with his own rope. But Laura can't be convinced. I suspect her ego had something to do with it; it's exciting to think that a man would kill for you. She's bound and determined to save Cal from the consequences, attacking Cramer, claiming that she's the killer, threatening to shoot Archie so that he can't contradict her testimony (but not in the back; she would have waited for him to turn around first), and then, failing to put it on herself, trying to put it on another innocent cowboy. It starts to dawn on Cal that maybe she actually likes him a little. In spite of all Laura's shenanigans, Wolfe and Archie manage to work out the solution.
"Poison a la Carte"
This is my favorite short story of them all. Perhaps because Fritz has a starring role, being requested to cook the dinner for the Ten for Aristology. I love Fritz. I liked how he refused to commit himself until he got a good look at the kitchen he would be working with, so Lewis Hewitt promptly popped him in his car and drove him right out for the inspection. The menu sounded delectable (except for the caviar; unlike Archie, I don't care for the idea of fish eggs.) When the tragedy occurred, Fritz was calmly self-assured that his cooking was not responsible.
The murder itself was deceptively simple, with the killer relying on speed and luck to carry her through. She had to have been one of the very first servers, then zipped back into the kitchen, snatched another plate, then served her assigned person. That initial serving was the danger; when they were first lining up, why didn't someone say, "Hey, you're too close to the front of the line, you're supposed to be further back!"?
Another thing I enjoyed: Archie has an irritating habit of instantly judging women by their looks. In this case, the most beautiful of the "Hebes" turns out to be a completely self-centered jerk, prepared to accuse one of the others (ANY one of the others) simply in order to get the case closed and done with so that SHE is no longer inconvenienced. Nice lady.
The Rustermans' staff and Fritz appeal to Wolfe to solve the case for the sake of their reputations; Wolfe is already doing so because of the insult to Fritz. Zoltan is requested to assist in a nifty little fishing expedition, and I loved how they had him practice on the house phone with several people listening so that he would get it right. The expedition is set up at Piotti's restaurant. John Piotti has reason to be grateful to Wolfe, and so willingly allows them to set up a listening wire at one of his tables. (He's also good for a table, a plate of the best spaghetti in town and a pint of Piotti's reserve wine whenever Archie cares to drop in.) There's a breath-taking moment when Zoltan makes a bad mistake, but, surprisingly for a reluctant amateur, he covers it expertly. Wolfe, of course, has managed to convince the police to make a detour to his house before hauling the killer off to the police station. He wants the chance to confront her. Fritz, ever dignified, forgives the killer for using his food to poison her victim--although she more or less throws it back in his face.
I'm grabbing an opportunity for a bit of a rant. I loved the A&E production of "Nero Wolfe". They did a marvelous job, overall. There were some problems: Wolfe bellowed too much (I understand that was Chaykin's own idea) and I hated how they turned the dignified Fritz, who was never fazed by anything, into comic relief who was fazed by EVERYTHING. But by and large, they did a fine job translating the stories into episodes.
With a major exception. They MANGLED this story.
First with the Hebes, with their silly prancing about, striking poses. All they were there for was to serve food. The epicures would have been concentrating on the food under normal circumstances; under the current ones, frolicking about with a man sick unto death a few feet away was in extremely poor taste.
Then with Zoltan and the sting operation. I suppose they wanted to get a look at Rustermans; well, put it in another episode. And they wanted Wolfe in the scene; well, he would have been there in his office at the end, where he was supposed to be. Having that scene there at Rustermans was idiotic. Think about it from both viewpoints. Zoltan: "Let's find a public place that's quiet and private, so that we can discuss my blackmailing venture (and get it all on tape)". Killer: "(He's going to insist on a public spot, but) let's make it quiet and private, so that I can (pretend) to listen to you (and wait for an opportunity to kill you)". So they're going to go to Zoltan's place of work, where (presumably) all of his co-workers will be slipping into the room to peek at who he's dating tonight! Yeah, right. After her brilliant, bold, audacious killing, apparently her brains all leaked out her ears.
And then there was the killer. One of Stout's best, an ice cold, ruthless, malevolent Medea. She probably killed her victim not so much because he seduced her, but because he forced her to realize that she was nothing special, just another girl like the host of others who had passed between his sheets. The A&E killer is reduced to a whimpering, whiny, stupid dweeb. I can't comprehend why her victim would have wanted to be in the same room with her, let alone seduce her. Kari Matchett or Francie Swift would have nailed this role. Pfui.