anywhere on that Orchard case. No, not only that, I think you'll find it helpful. No, nine o'clock would be better!
He hung up, scowled at me, and headed for the dining-room. By the time he had seated himself, rucked his napkin in the V of his vest, and removed the lid from the onion soup, letting the beautiful strong steam sail out, his face had completely cleared and he was ready to purr.
CHAPTER Tweleve
Inspector Cramer, adjusted to ease in the red leather chair, with beer on the little table at his elbow, manipulated his jaw so that the unlighted cigar made a cocky upward angle from the left side of his mouth.
“Yes,” he admitted. “You can have it all for a nickel. That's where I am. Either I'm getting older or murderers are getting smarter.” He was in fact getting fairly grey and his middle, though it would never get into Wolfe's class, was beginning to make pretensions, but his eyes were as sharp as ever and his heavy broad shoulders showed no inclination to sink under the load.
“But,” he went on, sounding more truculent than he actually was because keeping the cigar where he wanted it made him talk through his teeth, “I'm not expecting any nickel from you. You don't look as if you needed anything. You look as pleased as if someone had just given you a geranium.” “I don't like geraniums.” “Then what's all the happiness about? Have you got to the point where you're ready to tell Archie to mail out the bills?” He not only wasn't truculent; he was positively mushy. Usually he called me Goodwin. He called me Archie only when he wanted to peddle the impression that he regarded himself as one of the family, which he wasn't.
Wolfe shook his head. “No, I'm far short of that. But I am indeed pleased. I like the position I'm in. It seems likely that you and your trained men-up to a thousand of them, I assume, on a case as blazoned as this one-are about to work like the devil to help me earn a fee. Isn't that enough to give me a smirk?” “The hell you say.” Cramer wasn't so sugary. “According to the papers your fee is contingent.” “So it is.” “On what you do. Not on what we do.” “Of course,” Wolfe agreed. He leaned back and sighed comfortably. “You're much too clearsighted not to appraise the situation, which is a little peculiar, as I do. Would you like me to describe it?” “I'd love it. You're a good describer.” “Yes, I think I am. You have made no progress, and after ten days you are sunk in a morass, because there is a cardinal fact which you have not discovered. I have. I have discovered it by talking with the very persons who have been questioned by you and your men many times, and it was not given to me willingly.
Only by intense and sustained effort did I dig it out. Then why should I pass it on to you? Why don't I use it myself, and go on to triumph?” Cramer put his beer glass down. “You're telling me.” That was rhetoric. The trouble is that, while without this fact you can't even get started, with it there is still a job to be done; that job will require further extended dealing with these same people, their histories and relationships; and I have gone as far as I can with them unless I hire an army.
You already have an army. The job will probably need an enormous amount of the sort of work for which your men are passably equipped, some of them even adequately, so why shouldn't they do it? Isn't it the responsibility of the police to catch a murderer?” Cramer was now wary and watchful. “From you,” he said, “that's one hell of a question. More rhetoric?” “Oh, no. That one deserves an answer. Yours, I feel sure, is yes, and the newspapers agree. So I submit a proposal: I'll give you the fact, and you'll proceed to catch the murderer. When that has been done, you and I will discuss whether the fact was essential to your success, whether you could possibly have got the truth and the evidence without it. If we agree that you couldn't, you will so inform my clients, and I shall collect my fee. No document will be required; an oral statement will do; and of course only to my clients, I don't care what you say to journalists or to your superior officers.” Cramer grunted. He removed the cigar from his mouth, gazed at the mangled end suspiciously as if he expected to see a bug crawling, and put it back where it belonged. Then he squinted at Wolfe: “Would you repeat that?” Wolfe did so, as if he were reading it off, without changing a word.
Cramer grunted again. “You say if we agree. You mean if you agree with me, or if I agree with you?” “Bah. It couldn't be plainer.” “Yeah. When you're plainest you need looking at closest. What if I've already got this wonderful fact?” “You didn't have it two hours ago. If you have it now, I have nothing to give and shall get nothing. If when I divulge it you claim to have had it, you'll tell me when and from whom you got it.” Wolfe stirred impatiently. “It is, of course, connected with facts in your possession-for instance, that the bottle contained sugared coffee instead of Starlite.” “Sure, they've told you that.” “Or that your laboratory has found traces of a certain substance, in a band half an inch wide, encircling the neck of the bottle.” “They haven't told you that' Cramer's eyes got narrower. “There are only six or seven people who could have told you that, and they all get paid by the City of New York, and by God you can name him before we go any farther.” “Pfui.” Wolfe was disgusted. “I have better use for my clients' money than buying information from policemen. Why don't you like my proposal? What's wrong with it? Frankly, I hope to heaven you accept it, and immediately. If you don't I'll have to hire two dozen men and begin all over again on those people, and I'd rather eat baker's bread-almost.” “All right.” Cramer did not relax. “Hell, I'd do anything to save you from that.
I'm on. Your proposal, as you have twice stated it, provided I get the fact, and all of it, here and now.” “You do. Here it is, and Mr Goodwin will have a typed copy for you. But first-a little detail-I owe it to one of my clients to request that one item of it be kept confidential, if it can possibly be managed.” “I can't keep murder evidence confidential.” “I know you can't. I said if it can possibly be managed.
