In the executive committee room, I suppose it was, I couldn't tell from their expressions who or what had won. Certainly nobody looked happy or even hopeful. Heery was at a window with his back to us, which I thought was tactful since technically he was not a party. The others eyed me without love as I approached the big table.
Hansen spoke. 'We have decided to have Nero Wolfe continue with the case, using his best ability and judgment as you stated, without prejudice to any of our rights and privileges. Including the right to be informed on matters affecting our interests, but leaving that to his discretion for the present.'
I had my notebook out and was jotting it down. That done, I asked, 'Unanimous? Mr. Wolfe will want to know. Do you concur, Mr. Buff?' 'Yes,' he said firmly. 'Mr. Assa?' 'Yes,' he said wearily. 'Mr. O'Garro?' 'Yes,' he said rudely.
'Good.' I returned the notebook to my pocket. 'Ill do my best to persuade Mr. Wolfe to carry on, and if you don't hear from me within an hour you'll know it's okay. I'd like to add one little point: as his confidential assistant I'm in it too somewhat, and it interferes with my chores to spend half my time answering your phone calls, so I personally request you to keep your shirts on.'
I turned to go, but Buff caught my sleeve. 'You understand, Goodwin, that the time element is vital. Only five days. And we hope Wolfe understands it.'
'Sure he does. Before midnight Wednesday. That's why he can't bear to be disturbed.'
I left them to their misery. Passing through the reception room I paused to tell the brunette, 'Guilty on all counts. See you up the river.' It was a shock for her.
Chapter 14
The next two days, Saturday and Sunday, I found that my personal request had been a mistake. Thursday and Friday had been bad enough, but at least their phone calls had given me something to do now and then, and with them muzzled, or nearly so, my patience got a tougher test than ever. You might think that after putting up with Wolfe for so long I would be acclimatized, and I am up to a point, but he keeps breaking records. After I reported to him in full on my session at LBA, including a description of the premises, there was practically no mention of the case for more than sixty hours. By Monday morning I was willing to believe he had really meant it when he said it would be more feasible after the deadline, and I had to admit that at least it was an original idea to use a deadline for a starting barrier.
I spent most of the weekend prowling around the house, but was allowed to go out occasionally to walk myself around the block, and even made a couple of calls. Saturday afternoon I dropped in at Manhattan Homicide West on Twentieth Street for a little visit with Sergeant Purley Stebbins. Naturally he was suspicious, thinking that Wolfe had sent me to pry something loose, if only a desk and a couple of chairs, but he also thought I might have something to peddle, so we chatted a while. When I got up to go he actually said there was no hurry. Later, back home, when I reported to Wolfe and told him I was offering twenty to one that the cops were as cold as we were, his only comment was an indifferent grunt.
Late Sunday afternoon I spent six bucks of LBA money buying drinks for Lon Cohen at Yaden's bar. I told him I wanted the total lowdown on all aspects of the Dahlmann case, and he offered to autograph a copy of yesterday's Gazette for me. He was a great help. Among the items of unprinted scuttlebutt were these: Dahlmann had welshed on a ninety-thousand-dollar poker debt. His wallet had contained an assortment of snapshots of society women, undressed. He had double-crossed a prominent politician on a publicity deal. All the members of his firm had hated his guts and ganged up on him. The name of one of the several dozen women he had played games with was Ellen Heery, the wife of Talbott. He had been a Russian spy. He had got something on a certain philanthropist and been blackmailing him. And so on. The usual crop, Lon said, with a few fancy touches as tributes to Dahlmann's outstanding personality. Lon would of course not believe that Wolfe wasn't working on the murder, and almost refused to accept another drink when he was convinced that I had no handout for him.
I gave Wolfe the scuttlebutt, but apparently he wasn't listening. It was Sunday evening, when he especially enjoys turning the television off. Of course he has to turn it on first, intermittently throughout the evening, and that takes a lot of exertion, but he has provided for it by installing a remote control panel at his desk. That way he can turn off as many as twenty programs in an evening without overdoing. Ordinarily I am not there, since I spend most of my Sunday evenings trying to give pleasure to some fellow being, no matter who she is provided she meets certain specifications, but that Sunday I stuck around. If something did snap on account of the extremely severe tension, as Wolfe had claimed he thought it might, I was going to be there. When I went up to bed, early, he was turning off Silver Linings.
The snap, if that's the right word for it, came a little after ten o'clock Monday morning, in the shape of a phone call, not for Wolfe but for me.
'You don't sound like Archie Goodwin,' a male voice said.
'Well, I am. You do sound like Philip Younger.'
'I ought to. You're Goodwin?'
'Yes. The one who turned down your Scotch.'
'That sounds better. I want to see you right away. I'm in my room at the Churchill. Get here as fast as you can.'
'Comeing. Hold everything.'
That shows the condition I was in. I should have asked him what was up. I should at least have learned if a gun was being leveled at him. Speaking of guns, I should have followed my rule to take one along. But I was so damn sick and tired of nothing I was in favor of anything, and quick. I dived into the kitchen to tell Fritz to tell Wolfe where I was going, grabbed my hat and coat as I passed the rack, ran down the stoop steps, and hoofed it double quick to Tenth Avenue for a taxi, through the scattered drops of the beginning of an April shower.
As we were crawling uptown with the thousand-wheeled worm I muttered to the hackie, 'Try the
