The Golden Spiders (Crime Line)

I told him. At the end I added, “I admit I took a risk. If the boy had been not his son but a nephew he would like to choke, I would have been sunk. I wish to recommend that if we peddle this to the cops we leave his name out. And Orrie wants to know where this leaves us.”

He grunted. “So do I. Saul phoned. He has started something, but he doesn’t know what.”

“I told you I saw him at the Assadip office.”

“Yes. His name is Leopold Heim and he is living at a cheap hotel on First Avenue-it’s here on my pad. He had a brief talk with Miss Wright, and one with her assistant, a Mr. Chaney. He appealed to them for help. He entered the country illegally and is in terror of being caught and deported. They told him that they cannot be accessory to a violation of law and advised him to consult a lawyer. When he said he knew no lawyer they gave him the name of Dennis Horan. That finnan haddie was too salty, and I’m thirsty. Will you have some beer, Orrie?”

“Yes, thanks, I will.”

“Archie?”

“No, thank you. Beer likes me, but I don’t like it.”

He pressed a button on the rim of his desk and resumed. “Saul went to Mr. Horan’s office and told him of his plight. Horan questioned him at length, taking many notes, and said that he would look into it as soon as possible and that Saul would hear from him. Saul went to his hotel room and stayed all afternoon. At six o’clock he went out for something to eat, and returned. Shortly before eight he had a caller, a man. The man gave no name. He said he had been aware for some time of Saul’s predicament, and he sympathized with him and wanted to help. Since both the police and the FBI had to be dealt with, it would be costly. He estimated that the total amount required to prevent either exposure or harassment might go as high as ten thousand dollars.”

He opened a drawer to get the gold opener, which bore an inscription from an ex-client, opened one of the bottles Fritz had brought, and poured.

When Fritz had opened Orrie’s bottle, Wolfe continued, “Of course Saul protested in despair that it was impossible for him to procure such a sum. The man was prepared to make concessions. He said that it need not be paid in a lump; that weekly or monthly installments would be acceptable; that Saul could have twenty-four hours to explore expedients; and that an attempt to clear out would be disastrous. He said he would return at the same hour tomorrow, and left. Saul followed him. To attempt such a feat, following such a man in those circumstances, would of course be foolhardy for the most highly skilled operative, and even for Saul I would think it hazardous, but he managed it. He followed him to a restaurant on Third Avenue near Fourteenth Street. The man is now in the restaurant, eating. Saul phoned from across the street twenty minutes ago.”

Wolfe drank beer. I had intended, when he was finished, to mix myself a healthy tall one to counteract the memory of the cold drizzle, but now I vetoed it. I could see Saul, and feel with him, in some little hole out of the drizzle, on Third Avenue, keeping his eyes peeled across the street past the El pillars, hoping to God his man wasn’t phoning some pal to come for him in a car. Since it was Saul, the chances were that he already had a taxi parked down the block, but even so…

“I can take the sedan,” I suggested, “and run Orrie over to Saul, and I’ll lay back with the car. We three could hang onto Houdini.”

Orrie gulped his beer down, stood up, and rumbled, “Let’s go.”

“I suppose so.” Wolfe was frowning. Men willing, even eager, to go outdoors and brave the hubbub of the streets always discomposed him. At night, so much the worse; and at night in the rain it was outlandish. He sighed. “Go ahead.”

The phone rang. He didn’t reach for it, so I took it at my desk. “Nero Wolfe’s residence, Archie Goodwin speak-”

“This is Fred, Archie. The boss ought to hear it too.”

“Can you make it snappy?”

“No, it’ll take a while, and I’m going to need you. I’m up-”

“Hold it a second.” I turned. “It’s Fred, and he sounds hot. You go on. The best bet on a taxi is Tenth Avenue. If Fred doesn’t need me worse than Saul I’ll join you soon. If he does I won’t.”

Wolfe gave Orrie the address, and he beat it, and Wolfe picked up his phone.

I told the receiver, “Okay, Fred, Mr. Wolfe is on.”

Wolfe demanded, “Where are you?”

“In a booth in a drugstore on Ninth Avenue. Fifty-fifth Street. I think I’m onto something. This morning I saw that guy at the Gazette that Archie sent me to, and he gave me a lot of stuff on Matthew Birch. Birch had several personal habits to choose from, but his main hangout was a dump on Ninth Avenue, Danny’s Bar and Grill, between Fifty-fourth and Fifty-fifth. Danny’s name is Pincus, and he runs a book. The place didn’t open until eleven, and it was dead the first hour, and Danny didn’t show until after one. I didn’t camp, but I was in and out, asking everybody I saw about Birch. Of course the cops have been there often the past few days, and they probably thought I was just one more, until finally I decided what the hell. I told a little group that my name was O’Connor, and what was eating me about Birch was that I had been told that my wife had been seen in a car with him last Tuesday afternoon, not many hours before he was killed. A dark gray Cadillac with a Connecticut plate. I said the car had been parked in front of Danny’s Bar and Grill.”

Wolfe grunted. “That was too specific.”

“I guess it was, but I was playing for a rise, and you said I was to go on your assumption. And I got the rise. Most of them wasn’t interested, except to tell me to forget it and get a new wife, but afterward one of them took me to a corner and wanted to know things. He was sharp, and I did the best I could. Finally he said it looked like I had a bum steer, but there was a guy that could give me the lowdown on Birch if anybody could, and if I wanted to see this guy a good time would be between nine-thirty and ten tonight, there at Danny’s. A guy named Lips Egan.”

“It is now nine-twenty-eight.”

“I know it is. I was going to blow in right after nine-thirty, but I got to thinking. You ever hear of Lips