And Four to Go

“No. Again I’ll give it a thought, but no. Of course I was taking pictures myself and I wasn’t interested in them or their cameras.”

Cramer grunted. He regarded me for a long moment and then transferred to Wolfe. “I’ll tell you,” he said. “I’ll just tell you why I came here instead of sending for Goodwin and the camera. Mrs. Bynoe was wearing a bunch of orchids, and her husband says they were very special orchids. There is only one plant in the world, and he has it. While she was lying on the sidewalk, in convulsion, a man darted in from the crowd and snatched the orchids off her and ran. Frimm grabbed his arm but he jerked away. Of course he didn’t stick the needle in her then, she was already dying, but that’s not the point. The point is that I know how you are on orchids, and that Goodwin was around. The orchids alone, or Goodwin alone, I might pass, but the two together-that’s why I’m here. I want to know if you have anything to say, and if so what, and I want to ask some questions.”

Wolfe’s lips had tightened. “Is it possible,” he inquired, “that you are intimating that it was Mr. Goodwin who took the orchids?”

“No. I know he didn’t. I have a description of the man who did. But you know damn well how it is when there’s a smell of either you or Goodwin within a mile of a murder, and here is Goodwin and orchids. Have you anything to say?”

“Yes. I request you to leave my house.”

“After you answer some questions.” Cramer leaned forward. “Have you any knowledge of the man who took the orchids from Mrs. Bynoe?”

Wolfe put his hands on the edge of his desk, pushed his chair back, and got his bulk upright, on his feet. “Mr. Cramer,” he said coldly, “your talent for making yourself offensive is extraordinary. Presumably investigating a murder, you invade my privacy in my home with the preposterous intent of involving me in the theft of a bunch of flowers.” He moved, walked halfway to the door, stopped, and turned. “If you wished to question me about your murder I would listen, and would even answer. I know nothing whatever about it. I know nothing about Mrs. Bynoe and I know no one who does, and I have no inkling of any information that could possibly be relevant to her murder. Since you assume that the needle was propelled by a mechanism concealed in one of the cameras, I will add that I also know nothing of any of the persons who were there with cameras, except Mr. Goodwin, and he has told you what he saw and did. If you want to nag him about it, and he cares to submit, there he is.”

He walked out. Cramer twisted his neck to watch him go, then twisted it back to give me a look.

“Nag hell,” he rasped. “Just a big gob of egomania, and you’re not much better. Okay, I’ll ask you, have you any knowledge of the man who took the orchids from Mrs. Bynoe?”

I looked apologetic. “I’m sorry, Inspector, but I work for him and-”

“Answer the question!”

“And you know how that is. It’s a strain, working for an egomaniac, but it’s good pay, and I simply can’t risk answering questions he wouldn’t answer. What he said about the murder goes for me too, I know absolutely nothing. On other matters, such as my acquaintance with posy snatchers, I have to pass. Look how you offended him.”

His eyes were going right through me. “You refuse to answer.”

“Certainly. I would also refuse to answer if you asked me if I stole this necktie. That would offend Mr. Wolfe. But if-”

“How would you like to come downtown for a session with Lieutenant Rowcliff?”

“I’d love it. I once got him stuttering in eight minutes, the best I ever did, and I’d like-”

I stopped because he was being rude. He arose and, with the camera in his hand and the strap dangling, headed for the door. Thinking he might have an idea of looking for Wolfe, I got up and followed, but in the hall he turned to the front, and, doubting if he would appreciate help with his coat, I merely stood and watched until he had let himself out and banged the door shut. Then I about-faced and went and pushed the swinging door to the kitchen.

It was a pleasant scene, the egomaniac having, as usual, his Sunday-evening snack with the cook. Fritz was on a stool at the long table in the center, steering a dripping endive core to his open mouth. Wolfe, seated at my breakfast table against the wall, was pouring honey on steaming halves of buttermilk biscuits. A glass and a bottle of milk were there, and I went and poured.

I asked where Tabby was and was told that a tray had been taken to his room. Fritz told me there were plenty of biscuits in the warmer, and I thanked him and got a couple.

“You know,” I said offhand as I picked up the jar of molasses, “this is a very interesting situation.” I poured molasses. “So many things could happen. For instance, Lon Cohen isn’t the only one at the Gazette who knows I was after pictures of Mr. and Mrs. Bynoe on Wednesday. For instance, when Cramer learns that the film has been removed from my camera-your camera-he’ll probably send a squad with a search warrant. For in-”

“I’m eating,” Wolfe muttered peevishly.

“But I’m not discussing business. This isn’t business, this is just a cliff you tumbled over while in pursuit of pleasure, and you’re hanging by your fingernails. So am I. For instance, if they find the driver of the taxi, and they will if they decide to, they’ll learn that Tabby had company and that we came here. If I had known then that there had been a murder he wouldn’t have brought us here, but I didn’t. For in-”

“Get rid of the film,” Wolfe ordered.

“Right. First thing in the morning. But that’s a good camera, and if the needle was shot at her the way Cramer thinks it was, and if I happened to press the button while the needle was going by, it might show. I know a place that will develop that kind of film in short order for a price. How about it?”

Wolfe said yes.

“Okay. Again for instance, if Cramer does send a squad with a warrant when he finds the camera empty, and he might, what about the orchids? If you can’t bear to ditch them, I suggest hiding them in the plant