“You admit it’s connected.”
“Nuts. You’re not the DA and we’re not in court. Of course Mr Wolfe will want some details-when and how he was killed, and by whom, if you know.”
Purley opened his mouth and shut it again. When I have facts he needs, he would like to force them out by jumping up and down on my belly, but for that I would have to be lying on my back.
“With me listening,” he said.
“Sure, why not?”
“Okay. The body was found at two o’clock this afternoon behind a bush in Van Cordandt Park. It had been dragged across the grass from the edge of the road, so it was probably taken there in a car. There was one stab wound in the chest with a broad blade. No weapon found. The ME says between nine o’clock and midnight. Probably nothing taken. Eighteen dollars in his wallet. You can call Wolfe on the phone in here.”
“Any leads?”
“No.”
“When or where he went last night, or who with?”
“No. I was asking his wife when you came. She says she doesn’t know. The phone’s in his room, where he worked. Where he wrote. He wrote stories.”
“I know he did. What time did he go out?”
“Around eight o’clock. If he had an appointment he made it on the phone and she didn’t know anything about it. So she says. I just got started with her. I brought her here from the morgue after she identified the body. She says he told her he was going to see somebody and might be late, and that was all. If Wolfe wants to know what he had in his stomach he’ll have to wait until-”
“Don’t be flippant. Where’s the phone?”
We went inside and he shut the door and led the way down the narrow hall to a door on the left. It was a small room with one window, a table with a typewriter, shelves with books and magazines, and a row of drawers. There were two chairs, and on one of them was Mrs Jacobs. I said she wasn’t a crone when I saw her five days before, but she was now. I wouldn’t have known her. As we entered her eyes came to us. She focused on me, staring, and blurted, “It was you!”
“What?” Purley asked her. “Do you know this man?”
“I’ve seen him.” She was on her feet. “He was here last week. His name’s Goodwin. My husband saw him just for a minute, and after he left Simon told me if he ever came again to shut the door on him.” She was trembling all over. “I knew from the way-”
“Take it easy, Mrs Jacobs.” Purley had her arm. “I know this Goodwin. I’ll handle him, don’t worry. You can tell me about it later.” He was easing her out. “You go and lie down a while. Drink something. Drink some hot tea…”
He got her to the hall. In a moment he returned, shut the door, and turned. “So you’ve been here before.”
“Sure. With Mr Wolfe’s permission I’ll confess everything.”
“There’s the phone.”
I sat at the table and dialed, and after five rings had Fritz, who always answers when Wolfe is up with the orchids. I told him to buzz the plant rooms, and after a wait Wolfe’s voice came. “Yes?”
“I have to report another complication. I’m in Simon Jacobs’s apartment, the room he wrote stories in. Sergeant Stebbins is with me. He is investigating the murder of Simon Jacobs, whose body was found at two o’clock this afternoon behind a bush in Van Cortlandt Park. Stabbed. Between nine and twelve last night. Body taken there in a car. No leads. No anything.”
“Confound it!”
“Yes, sir. Stebbins was here when I arrived, and naturally he is curious. Are there any details I should save?”
Silence. Ten seconds, then: “No. There’s nothing worth saving.”
“Right. Tell Fritz to save some of that
“Try telling it,” he said, and got the chair the widow had vacated, sat, and got out his notebook.
Chapter 9
Thomas Dexter of Title House squared his shoulders and set his long, bony jaw. “I don’t care how you look at it, Mr Harvey,” he said. “I know how
It was noon the next day, Wednesday. If you are fed up with committee meetings, so was Wolfe and so was I, but that’s one disadvantage of having a committee for a client. And it was no longer merely a Joint
