by Rex Stout
I parked at the triangle and went in and took an elevator. They sent me right in to Cramer’s little inside room, but it was empty except for a clerk in uniform, and I sat down to wait. In a minute Cramer entered. I was thinking he might have the decency to act a little embarrassed, but he didn’t; he was chewing a cigar and he appeared hearty. He didn’t go to his desk, but stood there. I thought it wouldn’t hurt to rub it in, so I asked him:
“Have you found Clara Fox yet?”
He shook his head. “Nope. No Clara Fox. But we will. We’ve got Mike Walsh.”
I lifted the brows. “You don’t say. Congratulations. Where’d you find him?”
He frowned down at me. “I’m not going to try to bluff you, Goodwin. It’s a waste of time. That’s what I asked you to come down here for, this Mike Walsh. You and Wolfe have been cutting it pretty thin up there, but if you help me out on this we’ll call it square. I want you to pick this Mike Walsh out for me. You won’t have to appear, you can look through the panel.”
“I don’t get you. I thought you said you had him.”
“Him hell.” Cramer bit his cigar. “I’ve got eight of ’em.”
“Oh,” I grinned at him sympathetically. “Think of that, eight Mike Walshes! It’s a good thing it wasn’t Bill Smith or Abe Cohen.”
“Will you pick him out?”
“I don’t like to.” I pulled a hesitation. “Why can’t the boys grind it out themselves?”
“Well, they can’t. We’ve got nothing at all to go on except that Harlan Scovil had his name on a piece of paper and he was at your place last night. We couldn’t use a hose on all eight of them even if we were inclined that way. The last one was brought in less than an hour ago, and he’s worse than any of the others. He’s a night watchman and he’s seventy if he’s a day, and he says who he knows or doesn’t know is none of our damn business, and I’m inclined to believe him. Look here, Goodwin. This Walsh isn’t a client of Wolfe’s. You don’t owe him anything, and anyway we’re not going to hurt him unless he needs it. Come on and take a look and tell me if we’ve got him.”
I shook my head. “I’m sorry. It wouldn’t go with the program. I’d like to, but I can’t.”
Cramer took his cigar from his mouth and pointed it at me. “Once more I’m asking you. Will you do it?”
I just shook my head.
He walked around the desk to his chair and sat down. He looked at me as if he regretted something. Finally he said, “It’s too much, Goodwin. This time it’s too much. I’m going to have to put it on to you and Wolfe both for obstructing justice. It’s all set for a charge. Even if I hated to worse than I do, I’ve got upstairs to answer to.”
He pushed a button on his desk. I said, “Go ahead. Then, pretty soon, go ahead and regret it for a year or two and maybe longer.”
The door opened and a gumshoe came in. Cramer turned to him. “You’ll have to turn ’em loose, Nick. Put shadows on all of them except the kid that goes to N. Y. U. and the radio singer. They’re out. Take good men. If one of them gets lost you’ve got addresses to pick him up again. Any more they pick up, I’ll see them after you’ve got a record down.”
“Yes, sir. The one from Brooklyn, the McGrue Club guy, is raising hell.”
“All right. Let him out. I’ll phone McGrue later.”
The gumshoe departed. Cramer tried to get his cigar lit. I said: “And as far as upstairs is concerned, to hell with the Commissioner. How does he know whether or not it’s justice that Wolfe’s obstructing? How about that cripple Paul Chapin and that bird Bowen? Did he obstruct justice that time? If you ask me, I think you had a nerve to ask me to come down here. Are we interfering with your legal right to look for these babies? You even looked for one of them under Wolfe’s bed and under my bed. Do Wolfe and I wear badges, and do we line up on the first and fifteenth for a city check? We do not.”
Cramer puffed. “I ought to charge you.”
I lifted the shoulders and let them drop. “Sure. You’re just sore. That’s one way cops and newspaper reporters are all alike, they can’t bear to have anyone know anything they won’t tell.” I looked at my wrist watch and saw it was nearly two o’clock. “I’m hungry. Where do I eat, inside or out?”
Cramer said, “I don’t give a damn if you never eat. Beat it.”
I floated up and out, down the hall, down in the elevator, and back to the roadster. I looked around comprehensively, reflecting that within a radius of a few blocks eight Mike Walshes were scattering in all directions, six of them with tails, and that I would give at least two bits to know where one of them was headed for. But even if he had gone by my elbow that second I wouldn’t have dared to take it up, since that would have spotted him for them, so I hopped in the roadster and swung north.
When I got back to the house Wolfe and Clara Fox were in the dining-room, sitting with their coffee. They were so busy they only had time to toss me a nod, and I sat down at my end of the table and Fritz brought me a plate. She had on my dressing-gown, with the sleeves rolled up, and a pair of Fritz’s slippers with her ankles bare. Wolfe was reciting Hungarian poetry to her, a line at a time, and she was repeating it after him; and he was trying not to look pleased as she leaned forward with an ear cocked at him and her eyes on his lips, asking as if she was really interested, “Say it again, slower, please do.”
The yellow dressing-gown wasn’t bad on her, at that, but I was hungry. I waded through a plate of minced lamb kidneys with green peppers, and a dish of endive, and as Fritz took the plate away and presented me with a hunk of pie I observed to the room:
“If you’ve finished with your coffee and have any time to spare, you might like to hear a report.”
Wolfe sighed. “I suppose so. But not here.” He arose. “If Fritz could serve your coffee in the office? And you, Miss Fox … upstairs.”
“Oh, my lord. Must I dig in again?”
“Of course. Until dinnertime.” He bowed, meaning that he inclined his head two inches, and went off.
Clara Fox got up and walked to my end. “I’ll pour your coffee.”
“All right. Black and two lumps.”
She screwed up her face. “With all this grand cream here? Very well. You know, Mr. Goodwin, this house represents the most insolent denial of female rights the mind of man has ever conceived. No woman in it from top to bottom, but the routine is faultless, the food is perfect, and the sweeping and dusting are impeccable. I have never been a housewife, but I can’t overlook this challenge. I’m going to marry Mr. Wolfe, and I know a girl that will be just the thing for you, and of course our friends will be in and out a good deal. This place needs some upsetting.”
I looked at her. The hem of the yellow gown was trailing the floor. The throat of it was spreading open, and it was interesting to see where her shoulders came to and how the yellow made her hair look. I said:
“You’ve already upset enough. Go upstairs and behave yourself. Wolfe has three wives and nineteen children in Turkey.”
“I don’t believe it. He has always hated women until he saw how nicely they pack in osmundine.”
I grinned at her and got up. “Thanks for the coffee. I may be able to persuade Wolfe to let you come down for dinner.”
I balanced my cup and saucer in one hand while I opened the door for her with the other, and then went to the office and got seated at my desk and started to sip. Wolfe had his middle drawer open and was counting bottle caps to see how much beer he had drunk since Sunday morning. Finally he closed it and grunted.
“I don’t believe it for a moment. Bah. Statistics are notoriously unreliable. I had a very satisfactory talk with Mr. Lindquist over long distance, and I am more than ever anxious for a few words with Mr. Walsh. Did you see him?”
“No. I declined the invitation.” I reported my session with Cramer in detail, mostly verbatim, which was the way he liked it. Wolfe listened, and considered.
“I see. Then Mr. Walsh is loose again.”
“Yeah. Not only
is he loose, but I don’t see how we can approach him, since there’s a tail on him. The minute we do they’ll know it’s him and grab him away from us.”
“I suppose so.” Wolfe sighed. “Of course it would not do to abolish the police. For nine-tenths of the prey that the law would devour they are the ideal hunters, which is as it should be. As for Walsh, it is essential that I see him … or that you do. Bring Keems.”
I went to the front room, where Johnny was taking ten cents a game from Fred Durkin with a checkerboard, and shook him loose. He sat down next to the desk and Wolfe wiggled a finger at him.
“Johnny, this is important. I don’t send Archie because he is needed here, and Saul is not available.”
“Yes, sir. Shoot.”
“The Michael Walsh whom you followed this morning has been released by the police because they don’t know if he is the one they want. They have put a shadow on him, so it would be dangerous for you to pick him up even if you knew where to look. It is very important for Archie to get in touch with him. Since he is pretending to the police that he is not the man they seek, there is a strong probability that he will stick to the ordinary routine of his life; that is, that he will go to work this evening. But if he does that he will certainly be followed there and a detective will be covering the entrance all evening; therefore Archie could not enter that way to see him. I am covering all details so that you will know exactly what we want. Is it true that when a building project is boarded up, there is boarding where the construction adjoins the sidewalk but not on the other sides, where there are buildings? I would think so; at least it may be so sometimes. Very well, I wish to know by what means Archie can enter that building project at, say, seven o’clock this evening. Explore them all. I understand from Miss Fox, who was there last Thursday evening to talk with Mr. Walsh, that they have just started the steel framework.
“Miss Fox also tells me that Mr. Walsh goes to work at six o’clock. I want to know if he does so today. You can watch the entrance at that time, or you may perhaps have found another vantage point for observing him from inside. Use your judgment and your wit. Should you phone here, use code as far as possible. Be here by six-thirty with your report.”
“Yes, sir.” Johnny stood up. “If I have to sugar anybody around the other buildings in order to get through, I’ll need some cash.”
Wolfe nodded with some reserve. I got four fives from the safe and passed them over and Johnny tucked them in his vest. Then I took him to the hall and let him out.
I went back to my desk and fooled around with some things, made out a couple of checks and ran over some invoices from Richardt. Wolfe was drinking beer and I was watching him out of the corner of my eye. I was keyed up, and I knew why I was, it was something about him. A hundred times I tried to decide just what it was that made it so plain to me when he had the feeling that he was closing in and was about ready for the blow-up. Once I would think that it was only that he sat differently in his chair, a little further forward, and another time I would guess that it was the way he made movements, not quicker exactly but closer together, and still another time I would light on something else. I doubt if it was any of those. Maybe it was electric. There was more of a current turned on inside of him, and somehow I felt it. I felt it that day, as he filled his glass, and drained it and filled it again. And it made me uncomfortable, because I wasn’t doing anything, and because there was always the danger that Wolfe would go off half cocked when he was keeping things to himself. So at length I offered an observation:
“And I just sit here? What’s the idea, do you think those gorillas are coming back? I don’t. They’re not even watching the front. What was the matter with leaving Fred and Johnny here and letting me go to 55th Street to do my own scouting? That might have been sensible, if you want me to see Mike Walsh by seven o’clock. All I’m suggesting is a little friendly chat. I’ve heard you admit you’ve got lots of bad habits, but the worst one is the way you dig up odd facts out of phone calls and other sources when my back is turned and then expect me …” I waved a hand.
Wolfe said, “Nonsense. When have my expectations of you ventured beyond your capacity?”
“Never. How could they? But for instance, if it’s so important for me to see Mike Walsh it might be a good idea for me to know why, unless you want him wrapped up and brought here.”
Wolfe shook his head. “Not that, I think. I’ll inform you, Archie. In good time.” He reached out and touched the button, then sighed and pushed the tray away. “As for my sending Johnny and letting you sit here, you may be needed. While you were out Mr. Muir telephoned to ask if he might call here at half-past-two. It is that now—”
“The devil he did. Muir?”
“Yes. Mr. Ramsey Muir. And as for my keeping you in ignorance of facts, you already interfere so persistently with my mental processes that I am disinclined to furnish you further grounds for speculation. In the present case you know the general situation as well as I do. Chiefly you lack patience, and my exercise of it infuriates you. If I know who killed Harlan Scovil—and since talking with Mr. Lindquist over long distance I think I do—why do I not act at once? Firstly because I require confirmation, and secondly because our primary interest in this case is not the solution of a murder but the collection of a debt. If I expect to get the confirmation I require from Mr. Walsh, why do I not get him at once, secure my confirmation, and let the police have him? Because the course they would probably take, after beating his story out of him, would make it difficult to collect from Lord Clivers, and would greatly complicate the matter of clearing Miss Fox of the larceny charge. We have three separate goals to reach, and since it will be necessary to arrive at all of them simultaneously—but there is the doorbell. Mr. Muir is three minutes late.”
I went to the hall and took a look through the panel. Sure enough, it was Muir. I opened up and let him in. From the way he stepped over the doorsill and snapped out that he wanted to see Wolfe. it was fairly plain that he was mad as hell. He had on a brown plaid topcoat cut by a tailor that was out of my class, but 25 years too young for him, and apparently he wasn’t taking it off. I motioned him ahead of me into the office and introduced him, and allowed myself a polite grin when I saw that he wasn’t shaking hands any more than Wolfe was. I pushed a chair around and he sat with his hat on his knees.
Wolfe said, “Your secretary, on the telephone, seemed not to know what you wished to see me about. My surmise was, your charge against Miss Clara Fox. You understand of course that I am representing Miss Fox.”
“Yes. I understand that.”
“Well, sir?”
The bones of Muir’s face seemed to show, and his ears seemed to point forward, more than they had the day before. He kept his lips pressed together and his jaw was working from side to side as if all this emotion in his old age was nearly too much for him. I remembered how he had looked at Clara Fox the day before and thought it was remarkable that he could keep his digestion going with all the stew there must have been inside of him. He said:
“I have come here at the insistence of Mr. Perry.” His voice trembled a little, and when he stopped his jaw slid around. “I want you to understand that I know she took that money. She is the only one who could have taken it. It was found in her car.” He stopped a little to control his jaw. “Mr. Perry told me of your threat to sue for damages. The insinuation in it is contemptible. What kind of a blackguard are you, to protect a thief by hinting calumnies against men who … men above suspicion?”
He paused and compressed his lips. Wolfe murmured, “Well, go on. I don’t answer questions containing two or more unsupported assumptions.”
I don’t think Muir heard him; he was only hearing himself and trying not to blow up. He said, “I’m here only for one reason, for the sake of the Seaboard Products Corporation. And not on account of your dirty threat either. That’s not where the dirt is in the Seaboard Products Corporation that has got to be concealed.” His voice trembled again. “It’s th
e fact that the president of the corporation has to satisfy his personal sensual appetite by saving a common thief from what she deserves! That’s why she can laugh at me! That’s why she can stand behind your dirty threats! Because she knows what Perry wants, and she knows how—”
“Mr. Muir!” Wolfe snapped at him. “I wouldn’t talk like that if I were you. It’s so futile. Surely you didn’t come here to persuade me that Mr. Perry has a sensual appetite.”
Muir made a movement and his hat rolled from his knees to the floor, but he paid no attention to it. His movement was for the purpose of getting his hand into his inside breast pocket, from which he withdrew a square manila envelope. He looked in it and fingered around and took out a small photograph, glanced at it, and handed it to Wolfe. “There,” he said, “look at that.”
Wolfe did so, and passed it to me. It was a snapshot of Clara Fox and Anthony D. Perry seated in a convertible coupe with the top down. I laid it on the edge of the desk and Muir picked it up and returned it to the envelope. His jaw was moving. He said, “I have more than thirty of them. A detective took them for me. Perry doesn’t know I have them. I want to make it clear to you that she deserves … that she has a hold on him …”
Wolfe put up a hand. “I’m afraid I must interrupt you again, Mr. Muir. I don’t like photographs of automobiles. You say that Mr. Perry insisted on your coming here. I’ll have to insist on your telling me what for.”
“But you understand—”
“No. I won’t listen. I understand enough. Perhaps I had better put a question or two. Is it true that you have recovered all the missing money?”
