Committee on Plagiarism. Within two hours after I had supplied the details to Stebbins they had all been visited by city employees. Knapp had been interrupted in the middle of a bridge game, Oshin had been found at dinner at Sardi’s. Imhof and Amy Wynn had been called from a conference with three other executives of Victory Press. Dexter and Harvey and Cora Ballard had received the callers at home. Harvey had elicited these details from them so Wolfe would realize the gravity of the situation.
Having come at eleven o’clock, they had been at it for an hour, and there had been raised voices and heated words, with no unanimity on anything. Take the question, did they accept the assumption that Jacobs had been killed to keep him from squealing? Knapp and Harvey said no, he might have been killed from some quite different motive; it might have been merely coincidence. Dexter and Oshin said yes, that they couldn’t get from under a responsibility by laying it to coincidence. Imhof and Amy Wynn and Cora Ballard were on the fence. Wolfe ended that argument by saying that it didn’t matter whether they accepted the assumption or not; the police had made it, and so had he, as a working hypothesis.
Of course that led to a hotter question. If Jacobs had been killed to keep him from telling who had written “What’s Mine Is Yours” and got him to make his claim on Richard Echols, the murderer must have known about the plan to pry Jacobs open. Who had told him? That was what the cops had been after when they called on the members of the committee, and that was what Wolfe wanted, but look what they got:
Amy Wynn had told two friends, a man and a woman, with whom she had dined Monday evening. Cora Ballard had told the president and vice-president of NAAD and two members of its council. Mortimer Oshin had told his lawyer, his agent, his producer, and his wife. Gerald Knapp had told his lawyer and two members of his firm. Reuben Imhof had told three of his associates at Victory Press. Philip Harvey had told no one, he said. Thomas Dexter had told his secretary, his lawyer, and six members of the board of directors of Title House. So, counting the committee members and Wolfe and me, thirty-three people had known about it. Supposing they had passed it on to others as an interesting inside item, averaging one apiece, which wasn’t hard to suppose, that would make a total of sixty-six. And supposing… You do it.
Hopeless.
Another question: what was the committee going to do now? In Gerald Knapp’s opinion, it should do nothing. It should await events. Since the police were assuming that the murderer had been motivated by the urgent necessity to silence Jacobs, they would concentrate on the effort to learn who had written the stories and instigated the claims, and, though that would have its disagreeable aspects, it meant that the purpose for which the committee was formed was now being served by the vast resources of the New York police, and in comparison the resources of the committee were nothing. Philip Harvey agreed, possibly because for the third time in nine days he had had to be up and out before noon and he wanted to catch up on his sleep. Amy Wynn supposed it wouldn’t hurt to wait and see what the police did. Cora Ballard thought there should be a special meeting of the NAAD council to consider the matter, that the council had authorized the committee to deal with plagiarism claims, not with murder.
But Thomas Dexter and Mortimer Oshin couldn’t see it, and neither could Reuben Imhof. They were all emphatic that Wolfe should be told to go ahead, though for different reasons. Imhofs point was that there was no telling how long it would take the police to find the plagiarist, if they ever did, and their messing around and the publicity would be bad for both publishers and authors. Oshin’s point was more personal. He had put up ten thousand dollars in cash in the hope that it would help to stop Kenneth Rennert, and he wanted Wolfe to go ahead and use it for that purpose, with or without the concurrence of the committee. Thomas Dexter’s point was even more personal, as you saw from the speech he made to Harvey. He regarded himself as guilty of incitation to murder. Apparently he had an old-fashioned conscience. He went on to say that he couldn’t shift his responsibility to the police, he wanted Wolfe to go ahead and spare no pains or expense, and he would contribute any sum that might be required. He didn’t even say “within reason.”
He ended by making a motion, and the chairman asked for hands. Three went up at once-Dexter’s, Imhofs, and Oshin’s. Then Amy Wynn’s, not with enthusiasm. Cora Ballard remarked that she wasn’t a committee member and couldn’t vote. Gerald Knapp asked her to record him as voting nay.
“Even if the chairman could vote,” Harvey said, “it would be four to two.” He turned to Wolfe. “So you go ahead. The last time you went ahead you got a man killed. What next?”
“That’s pretty raw,” Oshin said. “It was my idea, and the vote was unanimous.”
Harvey ignored him. He repeated to Wolfe, “What next?”
Wolfe cleared his throat. “I am twice a jackass,” he said.
They stared. He nodded. “First, I should never have accepted a committee as a client. That was egregious. Second, I should not have consented to act as a mere conveyor of bait. That was fatuous. It dulled my faculties. Having become a party to a procedure which made an obvious target of a man, which put a man in imminent danger, and aware that all of you knew of it and others soon would, I was an ass not to take precautions. I should have seen to it that he was not harmed. It was even quite possible that one of you was the wretch I had engaged to expose.”
“Sure,” Harvey said. “Now you’re getting hot.”
“It could be you, Mr Harvey. With your most successful book only in its ninth thousand, you must have been open to temptation. So while I do not have Mr Dexter’s feeling of guilt, that I incited to murder, I do strongly feel that I failed to function properly. But for my default Mr Jacobs would be alive, and probably we would have our man. It was understood that you may terminate your engagement with me at will. I invite you to do so now.”
Three of them said no-Oshin, Imhof, and Dexter. The others said nothing. Wolfe asked the chairman, “Do you want a vote on it, Mr Harvey?”
“No,” Harvey said. “It would be four to one again.”
“It would be unanimous,” Gerald Knapp said. “I did not suggest that we should terminate the engagement.”
Wolfe grunted. “Very well. I should tell you that if you do terminate it, I shall not withdraw. I have a score to settle-with myself. I have bruised my self-esteem and I intend to heal it. I am going to expose the murderer of Simon Jacobs, anticipating the police if possible, and presumably that will also solve your problem. I shall do that in any case, but if I act as your agent it must be with a free hand. I won’t tell you what I intend to do. If one of you makes a suggestion other than privately, as Mr Oshin did, I’ll reject it without reference to its merits. Since I can’t rely on your discretion, you will have to rely on mine.”
“That’s a lot to ask,” Knapp said.
“No, sir. It is asking nothing; it is merely notifying you. If I told you I intended to do something and then did something else, I would still be your agent. You must trust my probity and my judgment in any case, or
