“Not unless that room is wired for sound.”
“Then sit at your desk, please.” Wolfe turned to the visitor. “If you have correctly reported what Miss Wright told you, it is an issue of veracity between her and Mr. Goodwin. I believe Mr. Goodwin. Other than what you have said, have you any evidence to impeach him?”
“No evidence, no.”
“Do you still believe Miss Wright?”
“I-yes. I do.”
“Then there we are. You realize, I suppose, that for me it is not exclusively a choice between Miss Wright and Mr. Goodwin as the liar, since I have no knowledge of what she told you except your own statement.”
Kuffner smiled. He had caught up now and was bland again. “We might as well make it unanimous, Mr. Wolfe. I didn’t mention this because it was only an inference by Miss Wright. It is her opinion that you sent Goodwin to her to make that offer. So for me too they are not the only alternatives.”
Wolfe nodded, unconcerned. “Once the fabric is woven it may be embellished at will.” He glanced at the clock. “It’s twenty minutes to my lunchtime. We’re at a dead end and might as well quit unless you want to proceed on a hypothesis. We can assume that either Miss Wright or you is lying, or we can assume that Mr. Goodwin is, or he and I both are. I’m quite willing, as a basis for discussion, to assume the last. That’s the best position you could possibly have expected to occupy. What then?”
Kuffner was ready for it. “Then I ask you how you can justify making an improper and coercive proposal to Miss Wright.”
“I reply that you have no mandate to regulate my conduct. Then?”
“I would decide-this would be with reluctance-I would probably decide that it was my duty to inform the police that you were interfering with the official investigation of a murder.”
“Nonsense. My talk with Mrs. Fromm has been reported to them, but not with a copyright. I’m not an attorney, and what a client says to me is not privileged. There was no interference or impropriety, and certainly no coercion. I had something that was legally and rightfully in my possession, a record of a talk, and I offered to sell it, with no attempt at compulsion or any hint of a disagreeable alternative. Your decision to report it to the police doesn’t interest me.”
Kuffner was smiling. “You certainly were prepared for that.”
“I should have been. I framed the hypothesis. What next?”
The smile disappeared. “I would like to drop the hypothesis. Even if I could prove the offer was made-and I can’t, except for Miss Wright’s word-since you think you can justify it-and I’ll grant you’re right for the sake of argument-where would that get me? We haven’t much time left-I must get to the funeral-and I want to get down to business.”
“Your business or mine?”
“Both.” Kuffner leaned forward. “My professional function, Mr. Wolfe, is to give advice to my clients, and to some extent handle their affairs, so that they and their activities will be regarded in a favorable light. Mrs. Fromm was one of my clients. Another was, and is, the Association for the Aid of Displaced Persons. I have a strong feeling of obligation to Mrs. Fromm which was not diminished by her death-on the contrary, I will do anything in my power to see that her memory and reputation are not damaged. Also I am concerned about the Association. As far as I know, there was no connection between her death and the Association’s affairs, but it is possible that there was one. Do you know of any?”
“Go on, Mr. Kuffner.”
“I am. I think it is more than possible, it is very probable, that there was a connection between Mrs. Fromm’s death and her talk with you on Friday. What she consulted you about must have been secret, because to my knowledge she told no one of coming to see you. It would have been the natural thing for her to tell me, that’s obvious, but she didn’t. It must have been important, because she certainly wouldn’t have called on a private detective, especially you, about anything trivial. And if it was connected with whatever and whoever killed her, it must have been more than important, it must have been vital. I want to know about it-I
Wolfe was frowning at him. “Which is it, Mr. Kuffner, black or white? You can’t have it both ways. You were going to report an iniquitous proposal to the police, and now you are ready to be a party to it. An extraordinary ethical somersault.”
“No more extraordinary than yours,” Kuffner contended. “You were condemning Goodwin for it-you even ordered him away from his desk-and then you justified it.”
“Certainly. Mr. Goodwin would have been offering to sell something that doesn’t belong to him; it belongs to me.” Wolfe flipped a hand. “But your dexterity as a casuistic acrobat, though impressive, is collateral. The question is, do I accept your offer? The answer is no. I must decline it.”
Kuffner’s fist hit the chair arm. “You can’t decline! You can’t!”
“No?”
“No! I have a right to demand this as the representative of Mrs. Fromm’s interests! You have no right to decline! It’s improper interference with my legitimate function!”
Wolfe shook his head. “If there were no other reason for my refusal it would be enough that I’m afraid to deal with you. You’re much too agile for me. Only minutes ago it was improper interference for me to offer to sell the information; now it’s improper interference for me to refuse to sell it. You have me befuddled, and I must at least have time to get my bearings. I know how to reach you.” He glanced at the clock. “You’ll be late for the funeral.”
That was true. Kuffner glanced at his wrist and arose. He was obviously, from his face, deciding that he must depart in a favorable light. He smiled at me and then at Wolfe.
