It was a quarter past six. Wolfe was back in the office again, fairly placid after two hours with Horstmann among the plants, and was on his second bottle of beer. I was comfortable, with my feet up on the edge of the bottom drawer pulled out, and my notebook on my knees.
Wolfe, leaning back in his chair with his fingers twined at the peak of his middle, nodded grimly. “I don't wonder, sir. Some day I'll explain it to you.
Just now the memory of it is too vivid; I'd rather not discuss it.”
“Okay. What I thought, maybe you're not eccentric any more.”
“Certainly I'm eccentric. Who isn't?”
“God knows I'm not.” Cramer took his cigar from his mouth and looked at it and put it back again. “I'm too damn dumb to be eccentric. Take this Molly Lauck business, for instance. In eight days of intense effort, what do you think I've found out? Ask me.” He leaned forward. “I've found out Molly Lauck's dead! No doubt about it! I screwed that out of the Medical Examiner.” He leaned back again and made a face of disgust at both of us. “By God, I'm a whirlwind. Now that I've emptied the bag for you, how about you doing the same for me? Then you'll have your fee, which is what you want, and I'll have an excuse for keeping my job, which is what I need.”
Wolfe shook his head. “Nothing, Mr. Cramer. I am not even aware Miss Lauck is dead, except by hearsay. I have not seen the Medical Examiner.”
“Oh, come on.” Cramer removed his cigar. “Who hired you?”
“Mr. Llewellyn Frost.”
“That one, eh?” Cramer grunted. “To keep somebody clear?”
“No. To solve the murder.”
“You don't say. How long did it take you?”
Wolfe got himself forward to pour beer, and drank. Cramer was going on: “What got Lew Frost so worked up about it? I don't get it. It wasn't him that the
Lauck girl was after, it was that Frenchman, Perren Gebert. Why is Lew Frost so anxious to spend good dough for a hunk of truth and justice?”
“I couldn't say.” Wolfe wiped his lips. “As a matter of fact, there is nothing whatever I can tell you. I haven't the faintest notion-”
“You mean to say you went clear to 52nd Street just for the exercise?”
“No. God forbid. But I have no scrap of information, or surmise, for you regarding Miss Lauck's death.”
“Well.” Cramer rubbed a palm on his knee. “Of course I know that the fact you've got nothing for me doesn't prove you have nothing for yourself. You going on with it?”
“I am.”
“You're not committed to Lew Frost to dig holes for anybody?”
“If I understand you-I think I do-I am not.”
Cramer stared at his worn-out cigar for a minute, then reached out and put it in the ashtray and felt in his pocket for a new one. He bit off the end and got the shreds off his tongue, socked his teeth into it again, and lit it. He puffed a thick cloud around him, got a new grip with his teeth, and settled back.
He said, “As conceited as you are, Wolfe, you told me once that I am better equipped to handle nine murder cases out of ten than you are.”
“Did I.”
“Yeah. So I've been keeping count, and this Lauck case is the tenth since that rubber band guy, old man Perry. It's your turn again, so I'm glad you're already in it without me having to shove you. I know; you don't like to tell people things, not even Goodwin here. But since you've been up there, you might be willing to admit that you know how it happened. I understand that you've talked with McNair and the two girls who saw her eat it.”
Wolfe nodded. “I've heard the obvious details.”
“Okay. Obvious is right. I've gone over it ten times with those two. I've had sessions with everybody in the place. I've had twenty men out chasing after everyone who was there at the fashion show that day, and I've seen a couple of dozen of them myself. I've had half the force checking up all over town on sales of two-pound boxes of Bailey's Royal Medley during the past month, and the other half trying to trace purchases of potassium cyanide. I've sent two men out to
Darby, Ohio, where Molly Lauck's parents live. I've had shadows on ten or twelve people where it looked like there was a chance of a tie-up.”
“You see,” Wolfe murmured, “as I said, you are better equipped.”
“Go to hell. I use what I've got, and you know damn well I'm a good cop. But after these eight days, I don't even know for sure whether Molly Lauck was killed by poison that was intended for someone else. What if the Frost girl and the Mitchell girl did it together? You couldn't beat it for a set-up, and maybe they're that clever. Knowing Molly Lauck liked to play jokes, maybe they planted it for her to swipe, or maybe they just gave it to her and then told their story. But why? That's another item, I can't find anyone who had any reason at all to want to kill her. It seems she was mellow in the pump about this Perren
Gebert and he couldn't see her, but there's no evidence that she was making herself a nuisance to him.”
Wolfe murmured, “Mellow where?”
I put in, “Okay, boss. Soft-hearted.”
