Clivers at the Hotel Portland.
At 7:30 Inspector Cramer and various members of the police
force had arrived on the scene at 55th Street, but no one
was permitted to enter the enclosure and no information was
forthcoming.
There was a picture of Clivers, taken the preceding week on the steps of the White House.
I was raving. If only I had gone up there! I glared at Wolfe. 'Be prudent! Don't expose ourselves! I could have been there in ten minutes after that phone call! Great God and Jehosaphat!'
I felt a yank at my sleeve and saw it was Clara Fox. 'What is it? What-'
I took it out on her. I told her savagely, 'Oh, nothing much. Just another of your playmates bumped off. You haven't got much of a team left. Mike Walsh shot and killed dead. Clivers standing there-'
'Mike Walsb… no!' She jumped up and her face went white. 'No! Let me see…'
Wolfe had leaned back and closed his eyes, with his lips working. I reached for the paper and pushed it at her. 'Sure, go ahead, hope you enjoy it.' As she leaned over the paper I heard her breath go in. I said, 'Of all the goddamn wonderful management-'
Wolfe cut in sharply, 'Archie!'
I muttered, 'Go to hell everybody,' and sat down and bobbed my head from side to side in severe pain. The cockeyed thing had busted wide open and instead or going where I belonged I had sat and eaten guinea chicken Brazili-something and listened to Wolfe hum folk tunes. Not only that, it had busted at the wrong place and Nero Wolfe had made a fool of himself. If I had gone I would have been there before Cramer or anyone else…
Wolfe opened his eyes and said quietly, 'Take Miss Fox upstairs and come to the office.' He lifted himself from his chair.
So did Clara Fox. She arose with her face whiter than before and looked from one to the other of us. She announced, 'I'm not going upstairs. I… I can't just stay here. I'm going… I'm going…'
'Yes.' Wolfe lifted his brows at her. 'Where?'
She burst out, 'How do I know where? Don't you see I… I've got to do something?' She suddenly flopped back into her chair and clasped her hands and began to tremble. 'Poor old Mike Walsh… why in the name of God… why did I ever…'
Wolfe stepped to her and put his hand on her shoulder. 'Look here,' he snapped. 'Do you wonder I'd rather have ten thousand orchids than a woman in my house?'
She looked up at him, and shivered. 'And it was you that let Mike Walsh go, when you knew-'
'I knew very little. Now I know even less. Archie, bring Saul.'
'Johnny is here-'
'No. Saul.'
I went to the kitchen and got him. Wolfe asked him, 'How long will it take to get Hilda Lindquist here?'
Saul considered half an instant. 'Fifty minutes if I phone. An hour and a half if I go after her.'
'Good. Telephone. You had better tell her on the phone that Mike Walsh has been killed, since if she sees a Gazette on the way she might succumb also. Is there someone to bring her?'
'Yes, sir.'
'Use the office phone. Tell her not to delay unnecessarily, but there is no great urgency. Wipe the spot of grease off the left side of your nose.'
'Yes, sir,' Saul went, pulling his handkerchief from his pocket.
Clara Fox said, in a much better tone, 'I haven't succumbed.' She brushed back her hair, but her hand was none too steady. 'I didn't mean, when I said you let Mike Walsh go-'
'Of course not.' Wolfe didn't relent any. 'You weren't in a condition to mean anything. You still are not. Archie and I have one or two things to do. You can't leave this house, certainly not now. Will you go upstairs and wait till Miss Lindquist gets here? And don't be conceited enough to imagine yourself responsible for the death of Michael Walsh. Your meddlings have not entitled you to usurp the fatal dignity of Atropos; don't batter yourself. Will you go upstairs and command patience?'
'Yes.' She stood up. 'But I want… if someone should telephone for me I want to talk.'
Wolfe nodded. 'You shall. Though I fancy Mr. Horrocks will be too occupied with this involvement of his chief for social impulses.'
But it was Wolfe's off day; he was wrong again. A phone call from Horrocks, for Clara Fox, came within fifteen minutes. In the interim Wolfe and I had gone to the office and learned from Saul that he had talked to Hilda Lindquist and she was coming, and Wolfe had settled himself in his chair, disposed of a bottle of beer, and repudiated my advances. Horrocks didn't mention the predicament of his noble uncle; he just asked for Clara Fox, and I sent Saul up to tell her to take it in Wolfe's room, since there was no phone in hers. I should have listened in as a matter of business, but I didn't, and Wolfe didn't tell me to.
Finally Wolfe sighed and sat up. 'Try for Mr. Cramer.'
