his brain, and I thought he might go up and try to annoy you. Forget it, but don’t unbolt the door for anybody but me until further notice.”
I hung up and swiveled. “Sit down, Sergeant. Would you like a glass of water?”
The cord at the side of his big neck was tight. “We’re in the house,” he told Cramer, hoarser than ever, “and they’re obstructing justice. She recognized a corpse and denied it. She’s a fugitive. To hell with the bolt.”
He knew better, but he was upset. Cramer ignored him and demanded of Wolfe, “What does Mrs. Molloy know that you don’t want me to know?”
“Nothing whatever, to my knowledge.” Wolfe was unruffled. “Nor do I. She is my guest. It would be vain to submit her to your importunity even if you requested it civilly, and Mr. Stebbins should by now know the folly of trying to bully me. If you wish the identification confirmed, why not Mr. or Mrs. Irwin or a member of Ella Reyes’ family? The address is- Saul?”
“Three-oh-six East One-hundred-and-thirty-seventh Street.”
Purley got out his notebook and wrote. Cramer threw the chewed cigar at my wastebasket, missing as usual, and stood up. “This may be the time,” he said darkly, “or it may not. The time will come.” He marched out, and Purley followed. I left it to Saul to see them out, thinking that as Purley passed by at the door he might accidentally get his fist in my eye and I might accidentally get my toe on his rump, and that would only complicate matters.
When Saul came back in, Wolfe was leaning back with his eyes closed and I was picking up Cramer’s cigar. He asked me if there was a program for him, and I said no.
“Sit down,” I told him. “There soon will be. As you know, Mr. Wolfe thinks better with his eyes shut.”
The eyes opened. “I’m not thinking. There’s nothing to think about. There is no program.”
That’s what I was afraid of. “That’s too bad,” I said sympathetically. “Of course if Johnny was still around it would be worse because you would have five of us to think up errands for instead of only four.”
He snorted. “That’s bootless, Archie. I’m quite aware that Johnny was in my service when he died, and his disregard of instructions didn’t lift my onus. By no means. But Mr. Cramer and his army are at it now, and you would be lost in the stampede. The conviction of Peter Hays is going to be undone, and he knows it. He picked up the evidence that doomed him; now let him pick up the evidence that clears him.”
“If he does. What if he doesn’t?”
“Then we’ll see. Don’t badger me. Go up and let Mrs. Molloy thank you properly for your intrepidity in saving her from annoyance. First rumple your hair as evidence of the fracas.” Suddenly he roared, “Do you think I enjoy sitting here while that bull smashes through to the wretch I have goaded into two murders?”
I said distinctly, “I think you enjoy sitting here.”
Saul asked sociably, “How about some pinochle, Archie?”
Chapter 17
WE DIDN’T PLAY PINOCHLE for three nights and two days, but we might as well have. Friday night, Saturday, Saturday night, Sunday, and Sunday night.
It was not a vacuum. Things happened. Albert Freyer spent an hour with Wolfe Saturday morning, got a full report on the situation, and walked out on air. He even approved of letting the cops take it from there, since it was a cinch they couldn’t nail the killer of Johnny Keems and Ella Reyes without unnailing Peter Hays. James R. Herold phoned twice a day, and Sunday afternoon came in person and brought his wife along. She taught me once more that you should never seal your verdict until the facts are in. I was sure she would be a little rooster-pecked specimen, and she was little, but in the first three minutes it became clear that at pecking time she went on the theory that it was more blessed to give than to receive. I won’t say that I reversed the field on him entirely, but I understood him better. If and when he mentioned again that his wife was getting impatient I would know where my sympathy belonged if I had any to spare. Also he brought her after four o’clock, when he knew Wolfe would be up in the plant rooms, which was both intelligent and prudent. I made out fairly well with her, and when they left we still had a client.
Patrick A. Degan phoned Saturday morning and came for a talk at six o’clock. Apparently his main concern was to find out from Selma Molloy what her attitude was toward the $327,640.00, and he tried to persuade her that she would be a sap to pass it up, but he took the opportunity to discuss other developments with Wolfe and me. It had got in the paper, the
Since we wanted to keep informed fully and promptly on the progress of Cramer and his army, and therefore had to be on speaking terms, we graciously permitted Sergeant Stebbins an audience with Mrs. Molloy Saturday afternoon, and he was with her three hours, and Fritz served refreshments. We were pleased to hear later, from her, that Purley had spent a good third of the time on various aspects of the death of her husband, such as possible motives for Arkoff or Irwin to want him removed. The Molloy case had definitely been taken off the shelf. From the questions Purley asked it was evident that no one had been eliminated and no one had been treed. When I asked him, as he departed, if they were getting warm, he was so impolite that I knew the temperature had gone down rather than up.
Saturday evening Selma ate with us in the dining room, and Sunday at one she joined us again for chicken fricassee with dumplings, Methodist style. Fritz is not a Methodist, but his dumplings are plenty good enough for angels.
Saul Panzer and Orrie Cather spent the two days visiting with former friends of Molloy’s, spreading
