'Pfui.' Silence. In a moment, 'Stay there.'
The connection went.
I left the booth. Neither Purley nor Cramer was in sight. Only one flatfoot was at the door, and the throng outside in the corridor was no longer a throng, merely a knot, and a small one. I moseyed toward the rear, with the line of empty barber chairs on my left and the row of waiting chairs against the partition on my right. Fickler was there, and three of the barbers--Ed being the missing one now--with dicks in between. They weren't interested in me at all, and I made no effort to try to change their attitude.
The chair on the left of the magazine table was empty, and I dropped into it. Apparently no one had felt like reading today, since the same New Yorker was on top and the twoweeksold Time was still on the shelf below. I would have been glad to employ my mind analyzing the situation if there had been anything to analyze, but there was no place to start, and after sitting a few minutes I became aware that I was trying to analyze Janet. Of course that was even more hopeless, and I mention it only to show you the condition I was in. But it did look as if Janet was the key, and in that case the thing to do was to figure some way of handling her. I sat and worked on that problem. There must be some practical method of digging up from her memory the fact or facts that
no
had to have. Hypnotize her, maybe? That might work. I i considering suggesting it to Cramer when I became aware : movement over at the door and lifted my eyes. The flatfoot was blocking the entrance to keep a man fully nee his weight from entering, and was explaining the iituation.
The man let him finish and then spoke. 'I know, I know.' His eyes came at me over the flatfoot's shoulder, and he bel(ifowed, 'Archie! Where's Mr. Cramer?'
a got up and made for the door in no haste or jubilation. There have been times when the sight and sound of Wolfe have given me a lift, but that wasn't one of them. I had told him on the phone that I would love to see him take Janet on, but that had been rhetorical. One would get him ten he couldn't make a dent in her.
'Do you want in?' I asked.
'What the devil,' he roared, 'do you suppose I came for?'
'Okay, take it easy. I'll go see--'
But I didn't have to go. His first bellow had carried within, and Cramer's voice came from right behind me. 'Well! Dynamite?'
'I'll be damned,' Purley, there too, growled.
The flatfoot had moved aside, leaving it to the brass, and Wolfe had crossed the sill. 'I came to get a haircut,' he stated and marched past the sergeant and inspector to the rack, took off his hat, coat, vest, and tie, hung them up, crossed to Jimmie's chair, the second in the line, and got his bulk up onto the seat. In the mirrored wall fronting him he had a panorama of the row of barbers and dicks in his rear, and without turning his head he called, 'Jimmie! If you please?'
Jimmie's dancing dark eyes came to Cramer and Purley, there by me. So did others. Cramer stood scowling at Wolfe. We all held our poses while Cramer slowly lifted his right hand and carefully and thoroughly scratched the side of his
in
nose with his forefinger. That attended to, he decided to sit down. He went, not in a hurry, to the first chair in the line, the one Fielder himself used occasionally when there was a rush, turned it to face Wolfe, and mounted. He spoke.
'You want a haircut, huh?'
'Yes, sir. As you can see, I need one.'
'Yeah.' Cramer turned his head. 'All right, Kirk. Come and cut his hair.'
Jimmie got up and went past the chair to the cabinet for an apron. Everybody stirred, as if a climax had been reached and passed. Purley strode to the third chair in the line, Philip's, and got on it. That way he and Cramer had Wolfe surrounded, and it seemed only fair for .me to be handy, so I detoured around Cramer, pulled Jimmie's stool to one side, and perched on it.
Jimmie had Wolfe aproned, and his scissors were singing above the right ear. Wolfe barred clippers.
'You just dropped in,' Cramer rasped. 'Like Goodwin this morning.'
'Certainly not.' Wolfe was curt but not pugnacious. There was no meeting of eyes, since Cramer had Wolfe's profile straight and Wolfe had Cramer's profile in the mirror. 'You summoned Mr. Goodwin. He told me on the phone of his fruitless talk with Miss Stahl, and I thought it well to come.'
Cramer grunted. 'Okay, you're here. You won't leave your place on business for anybody or any fee, but you're here. And you're not going to leave until I know why, without any such crap as murderers in your front room.'
'Not as short behind as last time,' Wolfe commanded.
'Yes, sir.' Jimmie had never had as big or attentive an audience and he was giving a good show. The comb and scissors flitted and sang.
'Naturally,' Wolfe said tolerantly, 'I expected that. You can badger me if that's what you're after, and get nowhere, but I offer a suggestion. Why not work first? Why don't we see if we can settle this business, and then, if you still insist, go after me? Or would you rather harass me than catch a murderer?'
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'I'm working now. I want the murderer. What about you?'
'Forget me for the moment. You can hound me any time. I would like to propose certain assumptions about what happened here today. Do you care to hear them?'.
'I'll listen, but don't drag it out.'
'I won't. Please don't waste time challenging the assumptions; I don't intend to defend them, much less
