room.
A day or two earlier I would have been glad to meet the Negro specimen that Susan Brooke intended to marry, just to size him up. All right, I was meeting him, and he looked like Sugar Ray Robinson after a hard ten rounds, except that he was a little darker. A day or two earlier he would probably have been handsome and jaunty; now he was a wreck. So was his father. When I started a hand for his hat he let go before I reached it, and it dropped to the floor.
In the office I nodded the father to the red leather chair and moved up one of the yellow ones for the son. Dunbar sat, but Whipple stood and looked at Wolfe, bleary-eyed. Wolfe spoke. 'Sit down, Mr. Whipple. You're crushed. Have you eaten?'
That wasn't flip. Wolfe is convinced that when real trouble comes the first thing to do is eat.
Dunbar blurted at Wolfe, 'What did you do? What did you do?'
Whipple shook his head at him. 'Take it easy, son.' He twisted around to look at the chair, saw it there, and sat. He looked at Wolfe. 'You know what happened.'
Wolfe nodded. 'I have read the paper. Mr. Whipple. Many people in distress have sat in that chair. Sometimes I cannot supply advice or services, but I can always supply food. I doubt if you have eaten. Have you?'
'We're not here to eat!' Dunbar blurted. 'What did you do?'
'I'll talk, son,' Whipple told him. To Wolfe: 'I know what you mean. I made him eat a little just now, on the way here. I felt I had to tell him what I asked you to do, and he wants to know what you said. You understand that he's-uh-overwrought. As you said, in distress. Of course I would like to know too, what you did. You understand that.'
'Yes. I myself have done nothing.' Wolfe leaned back, drew in air through his nose, all there was room for, which was plenty, and let it out through his mouth. 'Archie. Tell them.'
Dunbar blurted at me, 'You're Archie Goodwin.'
'Right.' I moved my eyes to Whipple. 'Did you tell him exactly what you asked Mr. Wolfe to do?'
'Yes. Exactly.'
'Okay. A friend of mine named Lily Rowan invited Miss Brooke to lunch, and I was there. At lunch nothing was discussed but the ROCC. After lunch Miss Rowan gave Miss Brooke a check for a thousand dollars for the ROOC and asked her some questions about herself. Nothing cheeky, just the usual line. Miss Brooke mentioned that she had worked for the Parthenon Press and at the UN, and I spent three days checking that, mostly at the UN. I found nothing that you could use, and yesterday I took a plane to Chicago and drove to Racine, Wisconsin. At Racine I talked with two men who had known Miss Brooke and her family, a newspaperman and a private detective, and got no hint of anything you could use. You wanted to find out what was wrong with her. Correct?'
'Yes.'
'I decided that there was nothing worth mentioning wrong with her and never had been. When I turned in at the hotel last night I intended to leave this morning, and at seven a.m. Mr. Wolfe phoned and told me what had happened, and I left right away and returned to New York. Any questions?'
Dunbar moved. On his feet, peering down at me, his shoulders hunched, he looked like Sugar Ray starting the tenth round, not ending it. 'You're lying,' he said, not blurting. 'You're covering up, I don't know what, but I'm going to. You know who killed her.' He wheeled to Wolfe. 'So do you, you fat ape.'
'Sit down,' Wolfe said.
Dunbar put his fists on Wolfe's desk and leaned over at him. 'And you're going to tell me,' he said through his teeth.
Wolfe shook his head. 'You're driveling, Mr. Whipple. I don't know what you're like when you are in command of your faculties, but I know what you're like now. You're an ass. Neither Mr. Goodwin nor I had ever heard of you or Miss Brooke. I don't suppose you suspect your father of hiring me to arrange for her death, and I doubt if-'
'That's not-'
'I'm talking. I doubt if even in your present condition you suspect Mr. Goodwin or me of doing it unbidden. But you may-'
'I didn't-'
'I'm talking! You may understandably surmise that in his contacts with various persons Mr. Goodwin unwittingly said or did something which led to a situation that resulted in the death of Miss Brooke. You may even surmise that he was aware of it, or is. In that case, I suggest that you sit down and ask him, civilly. He is fairly headstrong and can't be bullied. I stopped trying years ago. As for me, I know nothing. Mr. Goodwin's plane was late, he arrived only an hour ago, and we haven't discussed it.'
Dunbar backed away, came in contact with the rim of the chair seat, bent his knees, and sat. His head went down and his hands came up to cover his face.
Whipple said, 'Take it easy, son.'
I cleared my throat. 'I have had a lot of practice reporting conversations verbatim. Also tones and looks and reactions. I am better at it than anyone around except a man named Saul Panzer. I don't believe that anything I have said or done had any thing to do with the death of Susan Brooke, but if Mr. Wolfe tells me to-I was and am working for him-I'll be glad to report it in full. I think it would be a waste of time. As for my covering up, nuts.'
Whipple's jaw was working. 'I hope you're right, Mr. Goodwin. God knows I do. If I was responsible-' He couldn't finish it.
Dunbar's head came up, his face to me. 'I'll apologize.'
