'What the devil are you doing in there?'
I ignored him again and raised my voice to address the multitude: 'Ladies and gentlemen. That's all for today. Mr. Gould has had an attack. If you're sensible you'll go and look at flowers. If you're morbid or have got the itch you'll stay where you are-outside the ropes-'
A flash bulb flared at the left. Sympathetic murmurs arose, but they seemed to be a hundred percent morbid. At the right a guy with a camera came diving under the rope, but that was something for which arrangements had already been made inside the guard's head and he responded promptly and adequately. I was gratified to see that Anne appeared to have a modicum of wits. She must have seen the color of what I had wiped from my finger, but she was sitting on the grass getting her feet shod, hastily but efficiently.
'Archie!' Wolfe's voice came in his most menacing tone. I knew what was eating him. He wanted me to get out of there and drive him home, and he thought I was showing off, and he knew I was sore. As he called my name again I turned my back on him to welcome the law. A big flatfoot with no neck shoved through the crowd to the rope and got over it and strode across the grass. I blocked his way at Harry's feet.
'What's wrong with him?' he asked gruffly.
I moved aside and let him pass. He stopped and got a corner of the newspaper and jerked it off.
'Archie!' Wolfe bellowed.
Some of the spectators could see Harry's face and they were reacting. The ropes were bellied in, taut, with the pressure from behind. The guard was charging across the grass at them and Anne was on her feet again and Fred Updegraff was there.
'Hell, he's dead,' the cop said.
'You guessed it,' I conceded. 'Shall I get some help?'
'Go ahead.'
I won't say that I already knew things I didn't know, but I already had stirrings above the ears and, besides, I didn't want Wolfe to bust a lung, so I went that way and found him standing with Hewitt a few paces to the rear of the throng.
'Hold everything,' I muttered to him.
'Confound you-'
'I said hold everything.' I cantered off to the phone booths at the front of the room, parted with a nickel and dialed a number and got connected with Extension 19, gave my name and asked for Inspector Cramer. His voice came:
'What do you want?'
'Me? Nothing. I'm helping with the chores. Wolfe and I are up at the Flower Show-'
'I'm busy!'
'Okay. Now you're busier. Rucker and Dill's exhibit, third floor, Flower Show. Man murdered. Shot through the top of the head. Lying there on the grass guarded by one bull-necked bull who will never be an inspector. That's all.'
'Wait a min-'
'Can't. I'm busy.'
I slid out of the booth and dodged through the traffic back across the room. In that short time the mob surrounding the glade had doubled in size. A glance showed me that the cop and the guard had got reinforcements and Anne and Fred Updegraff were not in sight, and Wolfe and Hewitt had retreated to the other side of the rose garden next door. W. G. Dill was with them. Wolfe glared at me as I approached. He was still hanging onto those measly plants and was speechless with rage.
'… feel a sort of responsibility,'Hewitt was saying. 'I am Honorary Chairman of the Committee. I don't like to shirk responsibility, but what can I do-just look at them-'
'That policeman,' Dill said. 'Imbecile. Wouldn't let me in my own exhibit. Broke my shoulder blade. It feels like it.' He worked his shoulder up and down, grimacing. 'There's the doctor-no-'
'A doctor won't help any. He's dead.'
They looked at me. Dill stopped working his shoulder. 'Dead? Dead!' He darted off and burrowed into the crowd.
'You said he had an attack,' Hewitt regarded me accusingly. 'How can he be dead? What did he die of?'
'He ceased breathing.'
'Archie,' Wolfe said in his most crushing tone. 'Stop that. I asked you an hour ago to take these plants. Take them, and take me home.'
'Yes, sir.' I took the plants. 'But I can't leave yet. I'm looking-'
'Good heavens,' Hewitt said. 'What a calamity… poor Dill… I must see… excuse me…' He marched off towards the main stair.
At that instant I caught sight of an object I had been halfway expecting to see. I only got a glimpse of the gray coat with its collar of 14th Street squirrel, for she came from the other side and disappeared into the crowd. I put the pots on the floor at the edge of the rose garden and dashed off before Wolfe could say a word. I didn't care how sore it made him because he had it coming to him after his degrading performance with Hewitt, but I admit I glanced back over my shoulder as I went to see if he was throwing something. His face was purple. I'll bet he lost ten pounds that afternoon.
I skirted the throng and went into it on the other side. In a minute I saw her, squirming through to
