“I did.”
“Well?” He stayed nasty.
I grinned at him. “Look, Mr. Tolman. I don’t want to try to get smart with you, even if I knew how. But consider a few things. In the first place, without any offense-you’re just a young fellow in your first term as a prosecutor-Nero Wolfe has solved more tough ones than you’ve even heard about. You know that, you know his reputation. Even if either of us knew anything that would give you a trail, which we don’t, it wouldn’t pay you to waste time trying to squeeze juice out of us without our consent, because we’re old hands. I’m not bragging, I’m just stating facts. For instance, about my knowing about an attempt to kill Laszio, I repeat I didn’t. All I knew was that Mrs. Laszio told us that her husband told her that he found something in the sugar shaker besides sugar. How could he have been sure it was arsenic? Laszio wasn’t poisoned, he was stabbed. In my experience-”
“I’m not interested in your experience.” Still nasty. “I asked you if you remember anything that might have any significance regarding this murder. Do you?”
“I’ve told you what Mrs. Laszio told us-”
“So has she. Pass that for the moment. Anything else?”
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
Tolman told the state cop, “Bring Odell in.”
It came to me. So that was it. A fine bunch of friends I had made since entering the dear old Panhandle State-which nickname I had learned from my pal Gershom Odell, house dick of Kanawha Spa. My brain was gulping again, and this time I wasn’t sure whether it would get it down or not. The process was interrupted by the entry of my pal, ushered in by the cop. I turned a stare on him which he did not meet. He came and stood near me at the table, so close I could have smacked him one without getting up.
Tolman said, “Odell, what was it this man told you yesterday afternoon?”
The house dick didn’t look at me. He sounded gruff “He told me Phillip Laszio was going to be killed by somebody, and when I asked him who was going to do it he said they were going to take turns.”
“What else?”
“That’s all he said.”
Tolman turned to me, but I beat the gun. I gave Odell a dig in the ribs that made him jump. “Oh, that’s it!” I laughed. “I remember now, when we were out by the bridle path throwing stones, and you pointed out that ledge to me and told me-sure! Apparently you didn’t tell Mr. Tolman
Tolman was frowning, but not at me. “What about it, Odell? That’s not the way you told it. What about it?”
I had to hand it to Odell for a good poker face, at that. He was the picture of a Supreme Court justice pretending that he had no personal interest in the matter. Still he didn’t glance at me, but he looked Tolman quietly in the eye. “I guess my tongue kinda ran away with me. I guess it was about like he says, just shootin’ off. But of course I remembered the name, Phillip Laszio, and any detective would jump at a chance to have a hot one on a murder…”
The squint-eyed ruffian spoke, in a thin mild drawl that startled me. “You sound pretty inaccurate to me, Odell. Maybe you ought to do less guessin’?”
Tolman demanded, “Did he or did he not tell you Laszio was going to be killed?”
“Well… the way he just said it, yes. I mean about them all being jealous dagoes, and Laszio getting sixty thousand-I’m sure he said that. I guess that’s all there was to it.”
“What about it, Goodwin? Why did you pick on Laszio?”
I showed a palm. “I didn’t pick on him. I happened to mention him because I knew he was the tops- in salary, anyhow. I had just read an article-want to see it?”
The sheriff drawled, “We’re wastin’ time. Get the hell out of here, Odell.”
My pal, without favoring me with a glance, turned and made for the door. Tolman called to the cop:
“Bring Wolfe in.”
I sat tight. Except for the little snags that had threatened to trip me up, I was enjoying myself. I was wondering what Inspector Cramer of the New York Homicide Squad would say if he could see Nero Wolfe letting himself be called in for a grilling by small town snoops at half-past three in the morning, because he didn’t want to offend a prosecuting attorney! He hadn’t been up as late as that since the night Clara Fox slept in his house in my pajamas. Then I thought I might as well offer what help I could, and got up and brought a big armchair from the other end of the room and put it in position near the table.
The cop returned, with my boss. Tolman asked the cop who was left out there, and the cop said, “That Vookshish or whatever it is, and Berin and his daughter. They tried to shoo her off to bed, but she wouldn’t go. She keeps making passes to come in here.”
Tolman was chewing his lip, and I kept one sardonic eye on him while I used the other one to watch Nero Wolfe getting himself into the chair I had placed. Finally Tolman said, “Send them to their rooms. We might as well knock off until morning. All right, Pettigrew?”
