“I don’t know. For what I do know I’ll give you the broadcast verbatim. I’m good at that.” I did so, not trying to copy Bill Brundage’s delivery, just his words. At the end I added, “Now you know all I know.”
Trella spoke. “You said he was murdered. That didn’t say murder. He might have shot himself.”
I shook my head. “No gun in the car.”
“Anyway,” Nora said, “he wouldn’t have got under a rug. If Corey Brigham was going to shoot himself he would do it in the dining room of the Penguin Club.” It wasn’t as mean as it reads; she was merely stating a fact.
“He had no family,” Trella said. “I guess we were his closest friends. Shouldn’t you do something, Otis?”
“You don’t need me,” I said. “I’m sorry I had to break up your game.” To Jarrell: “I’ll be with Mr. Wolfe, in case.”
“No.” He was emphatic. “I want you here.”
“You’ll soon be too busy here to bother with me. First your former secretary, and now your friend Brigham. I’m afraid that calls for officious prying, and I’d rather not be in the way.”
I moved, and I didn’t mosey. I was surprised that someone hadn’t already come, since they had got sufficiently interested in the Jarrells to collect miscellaneous facts and the collection must have included the name of Corey Brigham. The one who came might be Lieutenant Rowcliff-it was his kind of errand; and while I liked nothing better than twisting Rowcliff’s ear, I wasn’t in the humor for it at the moment. I wanted a word with Wolfe before twisting anybody’s ear, even Rowcliff’s. So I didn’t mosey, leaving the premises, crossing the avenue, and getting a taxi headed downtown.
When I entered the office Wolfe was there alone, no Orrie on Sunday, and one glance at him was enough. He had a book in his hand, with a finger inserted to keep his place, but he wasn’t reading, and a good caption for a picture of the face he turned to me would have been
“So,” I said, crossing to his desk, “I see I don’t bring news. You’ve already heard it.”
“I have,” he growled. “Where were you?”
“Watching television with Susan. We heard it together. I notified Jarrell and his wife and Wyman and Nora Kent. Lois and Roger Foote weren’t here. Nobody screamed. Then I beat it to come and get instructions. If I had stayed I wouldn’t have known whether the time has come to let the cat out or not. Do you?”
“No.”
“Do you mean you don’t know or the time hasn’t come?”
“Both.”
I swiveled my chair around and sat. “That’s impossible. If I said a thing like that you’d say I had a screw loose, only you never use that expression. I’ll put it in its simplest terms. Do you wish to speak to Cramer?”
“No. I’ll speak to Mr. Cramer only when it is requisite.” The gathering storm had cleared some. “Archie. I’m glad you came. I confess I needed you, to say no to. Now that I have said it, I can read.” He opened the book. “I will speak to no one on the phone, and no one will enter my door, until I have more facts.” His eyes went to the book and he was reading.
I was glad he was glad I had come, but I wasn’t glad, if I make myself clear. I might as well have stayed up there and twisted Rowcliff’s ear.
Chapter 11
I SLEPT IN MY own bed that night for the first time in nearly a week.
That was a very interesting period, Sunday evening and part of Monday. I suppose you noticed what Wolfe said, that he would see no one and hear no one until he had more facts. Exactly how he thought he would get facts, under the conditions he imposed, seeing or hearing no one, I couldn’t say. Maybe by ESP or holding a seance. However, by noon on Monday it had become evident that he hadn’t meant it that way. What he had really meant was that he wanted no facts. If he had seen a fact coming he would have shut his eyes, and if he had heard one coming he would have stuck fingers in his ears.
So it was a very interesting period. There he was, a practicing private detective with no other source of income except selling a few orchid plants now and then, with a retainer of ten grand in cash in the safe, with a multi-millionaire client with a bad itch, with a fine fat fee in prospect if he got a move on and did some first-class detecting; and he was afraid to stay in the same room with me for fear I would tell him something. He wouldn’t talk with Jarrell on the phone. He wouldn’t turn on the radio or television. I even suspected that he didn’t read the
All there was to it, he was in a panic. He was scared stiff that any minute a fact might come bouncing in that would force him to send me down to Cramer bearing gifts, and there was practically nothing on earth he wouldn’t rather do, even eating ice cream with cantaloupe or putting horseradish on oysters.
I understood how he felt, and I even sympathized with him. On the phone with Jarrell, both Sunday evening and Monday morning, I did my best to string him along, telling him that Wolfe was sitting tight, which he was, God knows, and explaining why it was better for me to be out of the way, at least temporarily. It wasn’t too bad. Lieutenant Rowcliff had called on the Jarrell family, as I had expected, but hadn’t been too nasty about the
