Mrs. Fromm, the earrings. Pete and Birch, the car. That ties Birch and Mrs. Fromm. You understand that the
“As long as it’s just a hunch, okay.”
“Right. As for the car itself-as you know, the license plate was a floater; the car was stolen in Baltimore four months ago. It’s been repainted twice.”
“That hasn’t been published.”
“They released it at noon.” Lon leaned to me. “Listen, I’ve got an idea. How can you be absolutely sure I’m to be trusted unless you try me? Here’s your chance. Tell me how they know the same car killed Birch and the boy. Then I’ll forget it.”
“I forgot it first.” I stood up and shook my pants legs down. “My God, are you a glutton! Dogs should be fed once a day, and you’ve had yours.”
Chapter 6
When I got back to Thirty-fifth Street it was after four o’clock and the office was empty. I went to the kitchen to ask Fritz if there had been any visitors, and he said yes, Inspector Cramer.
I raised my brows. “Any blood flow?”
He said no, but it had been pretty noisy. I treated myself to a tall glass of water, returned to the office, and buzzed the plant rooms on the house phone, and when Wolfe answered I told him, “Home again. Regards from Lon Cohen. Do I type the report?”
“No. Come up and tell me.”
That was not exactly busting a rule, like the interruption at lunch, but it was exceptional. It suited me all right, since as long as he stayed sore because he thought someone had made a monkey of him he would probably make his brain work. I went up the three flights and through the aluminum door into the vestibule, and the door to the warm room, where the Miltonia roezli and Phalaenopsis Aphrodite were in full bloom. In the next room, the medium, only a few of the big show-offs, the Cattleyas and Laelias, had flowers, which was all right with me, and anyway the biggest show-off in the place, named Wolfe, was there, helping Theodore adjust the muslin shaders. When I appeared he led the way to the rear, through the cool room into the potting room, where he lowered himself into the only chair present and demanded, “Well?”
I got onto a stool and gave it to him. He sat with his eyes closed and his nose twitching now and then for punctuation. In making a report to him one of my objectives is to cover it so well as I go along that at the end he won’t have one question to ask, and that time I made it. When I had finished he held his pose a long moment, then opened his eyes and informed me, “Mr. Cramer was here.”
I nodded. “So Fritz said. He also said it was noisy.”
“Yes. He was uncommonly offensive. Of course he is under harassment, but so am I. He intimated that if I had told him yesterday of Mrs. Fromm’s visit she would not have been killed, which is poppycock. Also he threatened me. If I obstruct the police investigation in any way I will be summoned. Pfui! Is he still downstairs?”
“Not unless he’s hiding in the bathroom. Fritz said he left.”
“I left him and came up here. I have phoned Saul and Fred and Orrie. What time is it?”
He would have had to turn his head to see the clock, so I told him. “Ten to five.”
“They will be here at six or soon after. There has been no word from Mr. Horan. How old is Jean Estey?”
“Lon didn’t specify, but he said young, so I suppose not over thirty. Why?”
“Is she comely?”
“No data.”
“You have a right to know. At any rate, she is young. Saul or Fred or Orrie may find a crack for us, but I don’t want to prowl around this cage while they try. I want to know what Mrs. Fromm did from three-fifteen to five o’clock yesterday afternoon, and what and whom her mind was on during the hour she spent with Miss Estey. Miss Estey can tell me-certainly the second, and probably the first. Get her and bring her here.”
Don’t misunderstand him. He knew it was fantastic. He hadn’t the slightest expectation that under the circumstances I could get to Mrs. Fromm’s personal secretary for a private chat, let alone convoy her to his office so he could pump her. But it would only cost him some taxi fare, so what the hell, why not let me stub my toe on the slim chance that I might raise some dust?
So I merely remarked that I would tell Fritz to set an extra place for dinner in case she was hungry, left him, went down one flight to my bedroom, stood by the window, and surveyed the problem. In ten minutes I concocted, and rejected, four different plans. The fifth one seemed more likely, at least with a faint chance of working, and I voted for it. For dressing the part nothing in my personal wardrobe would do, so I went to the closet where I kept an assortment of items for professional emergencies such as the present and got out a black cutaway and vest, striped trousers, a white shirt with starched collar, a black Homburg, and a black four-in-hand. Suitable shoes and socks were in my personal stock. When I had shaved and got into the costume I took a look in the full-length mirror and was impressed. All I needed was either a bride or a hearse.
Downstairs in the office I got a little Marley.22 from the collection in a drawer of my desk, loaded it, and stuck it in my hip pocket. That was a compromise. A shoulder holster with a.32 would have spoiled my contours in that getup, but long ago, after a couple of unpleasant experiences, one of which had made it necessary
