“Certainly. That’s why I got those people here. That’s what I’m going to discuss with them. The actions brought-”
“Damn it, Wolfe, open the door!”
“I’m shutting it. If you change your mind about answering my question, you know my phone number.”
Cramer has his points. Knowing that it would be silly to try to stop the door with his foot, since Wolfe and I together weigh 450 pounds, he didn’t. Knowing that if he stood there and shook his fist and made faces we would see him through the one-way glass, he didn’t. He turned and went. Wolfe and I about-faced. Horan was no longer peeking; he had stepped into the hall and was standing there. As we approached he turned and moved inside, and as we entered the office he was speaking.
“It was Inspector Cramer. Wolfe shut the door on him. He’s gone.”
Frances Cox said, loud, “You don’t shut the door on a police inspector.”
“Wolfe does. He did.” Horan was back in his chair. Wolfe and I went to ours. Wolfe focused on Horan.
“To resume. Did Peter Vassos ever shine your shoes?”
Horan’s quick-moving eyes darted to Mercer, but the president was frowning at a corner of Wolfe’s desk and didn’t meet them. They went back to Wolfe. “No, he didn’t. I suppose what you’re getting at is did I tell Vassos about Ashby and his daughter? I didn’t. I have never seen Vassos. I understand he always came around ten-thirty, and I am never there at that time. I’m out calling on customers. I was there Monday morning and was with Ashby a few minutes, but I left before ten o’clock.”
Wolfe grunted. “Your observed presence there Monday morning is immaterial. Anyone could have got into Ashby’s room unobserved by the door from the hall, including you. I’m not after-”
“Then why pick on us, if
“I have two reasons: a weaker one, the attack on Miss Vassos’ character, and a stronger one, which I reserve. I’m not after who told Vassos about Ashby and his daughter; I don’t think anybody did; I’m after who told the police. Did you?”
“I answered their questions. I had to.”
“You know better than that if you’re not a nincompoop. You did not have to. Telling them even about yourself and your movements was at your discretion; certainly you were under no compulsion to jabber about others. Did you?”
“I don’t jabber. What I told the police is on record. Ask them.”
“I have. You just heard me ask Mr. Cramer. You have more than once asked a female employee of your firm to find out about the relations between Mr. Ashby and Miss Vassos. What did she tell you?”
“Ask her.”
“I’m asking you.”
“Ask her.”
“I hope I won’t have to.” Wolfe’s eyes went right. “Miss Cox. What terms were you on with Mr. Vassos?”
“I wasn’t on any terms with him.” Her head was up and her chin was pushing. It was a nice chin when she left it to itself. “He was the bootblack.”
“He was also the father of one of your fellow employees. Of course you knew that.”
“Certainly.”
“Did you like him? Did he like you?”
“I never asked him. I didn’t like him or dislike him. He was the bootblack, that’s all.”
“Affable exchanges even with a bootblack are not unheard of. Did you speak much with him?”
“No. Hardly any.”
“Describe the customary routine. He would appear in the anteroom where you were stationed, and then?”
“He would ask me if it was all right to go in. He always went to Mr. Mercer’s room first. If someone was in with Mr. Mercer, it depended on who it was. Sometimes he wouldn’t want to be disturbed, and Pete would go to Mr. Busch first. Mr. Busch’s room is across the hall from Mr. Mercer’s.”
“Are the two doors directly opposite?”
“No. Mr. Mercer’s door comes first on the left. Mr. Busch’s door is nearly at the end of the hall on the right.”
“After he had finished with Mr. Mercer and Mr. Busch, Mr. Vassos would go to Mr. Ashby?”
“Yes, but that took him past the reception room and he would ask me on his way. If Mr. Ashby had an important customer with him he wouldn’t want Pete butting in.”
“Are there any others in that office whom Mr. Vassos served?”
“No.”
“Never?”
