“That’s probably the police assumption,” Wolfe conceded. “Its worth is obvious, so I don’t reject it; I merely ignore it and substitute one of my own. Even a false assumption may serve a purpose. Columbus assumed that there was nothing but water between him and the treasures of the Orient, and he bumped into a continent.” His eyes moved. “I don’t expect you to bump into a continent, Fred, but you will proceed on my assumption that Birch was in the car with the woman. Try either to validate it or to disprove it. Take a hundred dollars-no, take three hundred, you never waste money. Archie will supply you with a photograph of Birch.” He turned to me. “They should all have photographs of everyone involved. Can you get them from Mr. Cohen?”
“Not tonight. In the morning.”
“Do so.”
He surveyed his meager forces, left to right and back again. “Gentlemen, I trust I have not dulled your ardor by dwelling on the hopelessness of this enterprise. I wanted you to understand that the situation is such that any tidbit will be a feast. I have on occasion expected much of you; this time I expect nothing. It is likely that-”
The doorbell rang.
As I got up and crossed the room I glanced at my wrist. It was 9:55. In the hall, switching on the stoop light and approaching the door, I saw it was two men, both strangers. I opened up and told them good evening.
The one in front spoke. “We want to see Mr. Nero Wolfe.”
“Your names, please?”
“Mine is Horan, Dennis Horan. I phoned him this morning. This is Mr. Maddox.”
“Mr. Wolfe is busy. I’ll see. Step in?”
They entered. I took them into the front room, glanced at the soundproofed door connecting with the office to check that it was closed, invited them to sit, and left them. Going by way of the hall, I shut that door, returned to the office, and told Wolfe, “Two tidbits in the front room. One named Horan, who wanted you to cough up the ten grand, with a sidekick named Maddox.”
He ran true to form. He glowered at me. Having finished with the briefing, he was all set to relax with a book, and here I was bringing him work to do. If we had been alone he would have indulged in one or two remarks, but after what he had just been telling the squad about hopelessness he had to control it, and I admit he did it like a man.
“Very well. Let Saul and Fred and Orrie out first, after you have given them expense money as specified.”
I went to the safe for the dough.
Chapter 8
From their manner, and glances that passed between them as I ushered the callers into the office and got them into chairs, I gathered that I had been too hasty in assuming they were sidekicks. The glances were not affectionate.
Dennis Horan was a little too much. His eyelashes were a little too long, and he was a little too tall for his width and a little too old for campus tailoring. He needed an expert job of toning down, but since he had apparently spent more than forty years toning up I doubted if he would consider an offer.
Maddox made it plain to Wolfe that his name was James Albert Maddox. He had been suffering with ulcers from the cradle on, close to half a century-or if not, it was up to him to explain how his face had got so sour that looking at him would have turned his own dog into a pessimist. I put them into a couple of the yellow chairs which the boys had vacated, not knowing which of them, if either, rated the red leather one.
Horan opened up. He said that he had not intended, on the phone that morning, to intimate that Wolfe was doing or contemplating anything improper or unethical. He had merely been trying to safeguard the interests of his former friend and client, Mrs. Damon Fromm, who had been-
“Not your client,” interposed Maddox in a tone that matched his face perfectly.
“I advised her,” Horan snapped.
“Badly,” Maddox snapped back.
They regarded each other. Not sidekicks.
“Perhaps,” Wolfe suggested dryly, “it would be well for each of you to tell me, without interruption, to what extent and with what authority you represent Mrs. Fromm. Then contradictions can be composed or ignored as may seem desirable. Mr. Horan?”
He was controlling himself. His thin tenor was still thin, but it wasn’t as close to a squeak as it had been on the phone. “It is true that I was never Mrs. Fromm’s attorney of record in any action. She consulted me in many matters and showed that she valued my advice by frequently acting upon it. As counsel for the Association for the Aid of Displaced Persons, which I still am, I was closely associated with her. If she were alive I don’t think she would challenge my right to call myself her friend.”
“Are you an executor of her estate?”
“No.”
“Thank you. Mr. Maddox?”
It hurt him, but he delivered. “My law firm, Maddox and Welling, was counsel for Damon Fromm for
