'Of record? No.'
'Or Mr. O'Garro's?'
'No.'
'Then I charge you with treachery to your client. I assert that you betray your client's vital interests when you instruct these men to withhold answers to my questions. – -No no, don't bother to reply. Draft a twenty- page brief tomorrow at your leisure.' He left him for the members of the firm. 'I have noted that you have not raised the question of motive. I myself have not broached it because I know little or nothing about it--that is, the motive for killing Dahlmann. Mr. Cramer of course has a stack of them, good, bad, and indifferent. I have nothing at all for Mr. Hansen and next to nothing for Mr. Heery, and anyway the timetable shelves them tentatively. For Mr. O'Garro, nothing. For Mr. Buff, nothing conclusive, but material for speculation. I have gathered that he more or less inherited his eminence in the firm on the death of Mr. Lippert, who had trained him; that since Mr. Lippert's death he has gloried in his status of senior partner and clung to it tenaciously; that his abilities are negligible except for one narrow field; and that there was a widespread expectation that before long Mr. Dahlmann would become the master instead of the servant. I don't know how severely that prospect galled Mr. Buff, but you must know.' He focused on the senior partner. 'Especially you, Mr. Buff. Would you care to tell me?'
Buff darted a glance at Hansen, but the lawyer had no instructions, and he went to Wolfe. His round red face was puffy and flabby, and a strand of his white hair, dangling over his brow, had been annoying me and I had been tempted to tell him to brush it back. Around the corner at the end of the table, at my right, he was close enough for me to do it myself.
He wasn't indignant. He was a big man and an important man, and this was a very serious matter. 'Your attempt to give me a motive,' he told Wolfe, 'is not very successful. We all resented Dahlmann a little. He got on our nerves. I think some of us hated him--for instance, O'Garro here. O'Garro always did hate him. But in trying to give me a motive you're overlooking something. If I killed him to keep him from crowding me out at LBA, I must have been crazy, because why did I take the wallet? Taking the wallet was what got LBA into these grave difficulties. Was I crazy?'
'By no means.' Wolfe met his eyes. 'You may have gone there merely to get the wallet, and took the gun along because you were determined to get it, and the opportunity to get rid of him became irresistible after you were with him. Leaving, you would certainly take the wallet. That was what you had gone for; and in any case, you didn't want it found on his body with that paper in it. You were not in a state of mind to consider calmly the consequences of your taking it. By the way, what have you done with the paper? It must have been in the wallet, since you sent the answers to the contestants.'
'That's going too far, Wolfe.' Buff's voice raised a little. 'You only suggested a motive, but now you're accusing me. With witnesses here, don't forget that. But what you said about the vital interests of this firm, that they are paramount, that made sense and I agree with you. At a time like this personal considerations are of no account. So I must tell you of a little mistake O'Garro made--I don't say he did it deliberately, it may have slipped his mind that he did make the appointment for us to meet Assa at the restaurant. He was in his office, and he came to my office and said that Assa had phoned and he had arranged for us to meet him at Grainger's at a quarter to eight.'
I thought O'Garro was going to plug him, and O'Garro thought so too. He was across from me, at Buff's right, and he was out of his chair, his eyes blazing, with two fists ready, but he didn't swing. He put his fists on the table and leaned on them, toward Buff, until his face was only a foot away from the senior partner's.
'You're too old to hit,' he said, grinding it out between his teeth. 'Too old and too goddam dirty. You said I hated Dahlmann. Maybe I didn't love him, but I didn't hate him. You did. Seeing Him coming up on his way to take over and boot you out--no wonder you hated him --and by God, I felt sorry for you!'
O'Garro straightened up and looked at us. 'I felt sorry for him, gentlemen. That's how clever I was. I felt sorry for him.' He looked at Wolfe. 'You asked me who made the appointment with Assa and I said I'd reserve it. Buff made it, and came to my room and told me. Any more questions?'
'One or two for Mr. Buff.' Wolfe regarded him with half-closed eyes. 'Mr. Buff. When were you alone with Mr. Assa yesterday afternoon, and where and for how long?'
'I refuse to answer.' Buff was having trouble with his voice. 'I decline to answer on advice of counsel.'
'Who is your counsel?'
'Rudolph Hansen.'
'He says he isn't.' Wolfe's eyes moved. 'Mr. Hansen? Are you now counsel for Mr. Buff?'
'No.' It sounded final. 'As it stands now I couldn't be even if I wanted to, because of a possible conflict of interest. His attorney is named Arnold Duffen, with an office a few blocks from here.'
Buff looked at him. The round red face was puffier. 'Arnold may not be immediately available, Rudolph. I want to consult you privately. Now.'
'No. Impossible.'
'Then I must try to get him.' Buff was leaving his chair. 'Not here. From my room.'
I stopped him by taking his arm. He was going to pull away, but I don't take a murderer's arm the way I do a nymph's, and he ended back in his chair. I released him, but got up and stood beside him.
'I wish,' Wolfe said, 'to extend you gentlemen all possible courtesy, but I must transfer the responsibility for that bottle of poison as soon as may be. Need I wait longer?'
For three seconds no one spoke, and then O'Garro said, 'Use the phone on your left.'
Chapter 22
