Carla Lovchen, a Montenegran immigrant, comes to Nero Wolfe’s Manhattan brownstone asking him to clear the name of her friend and fellow refugee of stealing diamonds from one of their wealthy clients that they teach at a private fencing school. Initially uninterested, Nero dismisses her coldly, but Carla reveals that her friend, Neya Tormic, is no ordinary client; she is Nero Wolfe’s long-long daughter, whom he adopted while freedom fighting in the Balkans during World War I.
Wolfe, compelled by a sense of duty, accepts Neya Tormic’s case. She is Neya Tormic- the last time he saw her, she was a scrawny three-year-old with too many ribs sticking out and sends Archie Goodwin to snoop around the fencing school for clues.
Archie Goodwin puts the screws on patrons and instructors alike, but nothing prepares him for what happens next: a fencing student is found dead, fenced through the heart, and the main suspect is Neya Tormic.
The flatfoots are called, and Archie Goodwin legs it out of the building fast, but not before he finds his coat pocket bulging with a mysterious package, which he brings home to Nero Wolfe.
Nero Wolfe’s past and present collide as he is embroiled in international intrigue, the death of enemy agents, and his loyalty to the United States is questioned. Can he clear Neya Tormic’s name and unmask an enemy agent on the eve of World War II before it’s too late?
The Review
Over My Dead Body probably has too many plotlines to make it into the upper echelons of the Nero Wolfe oeuvre. Part contemplation on the state of refugees and their allegiance to America, part shocking backstory of Nero Wolfe, which tallies little with the orchid-tending, beer-drinking recluse we know, part investigation into an international spy ring, part trying to verify Neya Tormic’s shadowy claims to her identity.
Oh, yeah, and there’s a mystery at a fencing school that gets short shrift, even though Rex Stout wrote a very atmospheric and thrilling murder about a man who gets stabbed through the heart with a collectible and deadly fencing tip.
There’s just too much going on, and the part that I found the most appealing, the brutal murder of an innocuous-looking man, gets overshadowed by everything else.
Archie and Nero have their usual banter; there’s lip service to beer and Fritz’s cooking, but they seem so pedestrian and out of place against needing to prove to FBI G-men that Nero is a good patriotic American.
The revelation that Nero Wolfe adopted a daughter but lost touch with her and never bothered to find her rings hollow since he is, by his own volition, one of the best private investigators in the world. I guess finding orphan girls doesn’t pay for a new rare orchid, so he couldn’t be bothered.
Also, no matter how often Rex Stout says that Nero Wolfe spent his youth as a freedom fighter, nothing about Nero Wolfe’s demeanor indicates that he ever risked life and limb for another person. In fact, his whole characterization is that he never gets into scrapes. That’s what Archie is for and his gallery of hired toughs.
Overall, the book was okay, I liked it more than I didn’t, but I wished it focused more on fencing school and the exciting characters populating that world instead of the mysterious spy ring and shadowy past of Neya Tormic and her compatriot Carla Lovchen. I recommend it, but don’t worry if you get overwhelmed by the convoluted and overstuffed plot; it’s still a fun ride.
My Nero Wolfe Reviews
Nero Wolfe #1: Fer-De-Lance
Golden Age of Detective Fiction 
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