'I know you do,' she said, 'I've seen you. You're Archie Goodwin.'
At close quarters she looked younger and prettier. Some do. 'If you know my name,' I said, 'I ought to know yours.'
'Peggy Truett. Thank you for telling me how good you dance. Now I know.'
'That was just coiling the rope. The next move is to show you. I was leading up to it.'
'I bet you were.' She brushed back a strand of wavy blond hair. 'You're shy, that's your trouble, I know. I'm not. Sure, I'd like to accept your kind invitation, but I guess I won't. I've seen you here a lot of times, last year and this year, and maybe you saw me, but you never headed in to me before, so why now? That's easy. You want to ask me about Sam Peacock.'
'Do I? What about him?'
'You know damn well what about him. You and that fatty Nero Wolfe, last night you pumped him good just because he wrangled that dude and that was his job. If I was him I wouldn't give you-'
Her eyes left me, went past me, for something in my rear, and then all of her left. As she brushed my arm going by I turned for a look and saw Sam Peacock arriving. He saw Peggy Truett coming and came to meet her, and I looked at my wrist and saw that in nine minutes it would be eleven o'clock. The band started up and I moved to the wall, over near the door, and stood noticing pairings on the floor with my eyes only-Lily and Woody, Bill Farnham and Mrs Amory, Pete Ingalls and Diana Kadany, Armand DuBois and a woman in a black dress, Wade Worthy and a girl from an upriver ranch. Ed Welch, the deputy, was sitting on the edge of the platform, a little higher than on a chair.
I was as useless there as a bridle without a bit, and I went out to the Gallery. Sheriff Haight was still there, with his feet up on Woody's desk, with a magazine. He had a glance for me but no words, and I had none for him. I stepped across for a look at the greatest sentence in American literature, which put me an arm's length from him, counted to a hundred, and turned around. Yes. The deputy was there. I thought of three different remarks to make to him, all witty, vetoed all of them, crossed to the door at the back, opened it and passed through, and shut it.
I was in Woody's kitchen, which was fully as modern as the one at the cabin, though much smaller. Next came the bedroom and bath, also small and functional, and then the room that Lily called the Museum. It was big, about 24 by 36, with six windows, and it contained one or more specimens of nearly every item Woody's father had peddled. Name it and Woody would show it-anything from eight different brands of chewing tobacco, plug and twist, in a glass case, to an assortment of lace curtains on a rack. The heaviest item was a 26-inch grindstone, not mounted, and the biggest one was a combination churn and ice-cream freezer. About the only things in the room that didn't qualify were the chairs and the lights and the shelves of books, which were all in hard covers. No paperbacks; it was Woody's personal library.
When I entered, two of the books were on a small table by the wall and one was in the hands of Nero Wolfe, who was in a big, roomy chair by the table. At his left was a reading lamp and at his right, on the table with the other two books, were a glass and two beer bottles, one empty and one half full. He was so well fixed that I should have about-faced and beat it, but he looked up and said, 'Indeed.'
Meaning where the hell have you been. So I moved a chair to face him, sat, and said, 'I told you he would be late. He just came.'
'You have spoken with him?'
'No. I doubt if I should.'
'Why? Is he drunk?'
'No. But I have a case to put. Haight is still there and shows no sign of leaving. So I get Sam, now or later, and bring him, and in an hour, or six hours, either you get something or you don't. If you don't, you've wasted a lot of time and energy, which would be regrettable but that often happens. If you do, and when Sam leaves Haight is still there, what will happen will be worse than regrettable. Haight will-'
'I am not obtuse, Archie.' He closed the book with a finger in at his place.
'I concede that.'
'Isn't that'-he aimed a thumb-'an outside door?'
'Yes. I'm not obtuse either. I suppose you saw the brawny baboon who was standing there when I came, and you may have noticed that he followed me inside. That's a deputy sheriff, Ed Welch. I'm his subject for the evening. If I ushered Sam Peacock out the front entrance and around to the back, to that door, he would be close behind, and Haight would be even keener to work on him when he left. Of course leaving by that door wouldn't help; Welch would be out there waiting for him. I'm not sure we weren't both a little obtuse, especially me. I might have known Haight would be here. I should have hunted Sam up this afternoon, or even at suppertime, instead of that goddam real Montana trout deal. So all you have to show for tonight is a trout recipe which you will of course pass on to Fritz, and a subtle sentence in ancient classical Armenian. Tomorrow is Sunday and Sam will probably have a day off, but I'll find him and bring him. The more I look at it, the more I like Sam Peacock. I do not believe that Brodell had no suspicion that there was someone in the neighbourhood who would like to get him, and I also do not believe that during all of Tuesday and all of Wednesday, and part of Thursday, he didn't say a single word that would provide a hint. Didn't I say that, or something like it, three days ago?'
'Not three. Two. Thursday afternoon. You said you had tried to use what you called my 'filter job' on him, and he wouldn't cooperate.'
'He certainly wouldn't. You got more out of him last night than I had in three tries. But now it's you, not just me, and you're official, and he knows it. I suggest that we now leave by the back door and I drive you to where your bed is so you can get a night's sleep, and tomorrow I'll bring him. I'll come back for the others.'
He made a face. 'What time is it?' he growled.
I looked. 'Twenty-four minutes to midnight.'
'I'm in the middle of an exposition that is refreshing my memory.' He poured beer and opened the book. 'Perhaps you should tell Miss Rowan we are going.'
I said it wasn't necessary, that we usually stayed until around one o'clock, and went to look over his shoulder to see what was refreshing his memory. It was a volume of Macaulay's Essays, and he was on Sir
