“But you are.” Wolfe turned a palm up. “Consider. As I told you yesterday, my conclusions about the whereabouts of the money and Mr Vail’s death were based on deductions and assumptions from the evidence at hand, and I have no evidence that you do not have. Yesterday you said you would leave me to my deductions and assumptions. Now you want them. You demand them, snarling a threat.”
“You’re twisting it around as usual. I didn’t snarl.”
“I’m clarifying it. I am under no necessity, either as a citizen or as a licensed detective, to share the product of my ratiocination with you. I am not obliged to describe the mental process by which I located the money and identified the murderer of Miss Utley and Mr Vail. I may decide to do so, but it rests with my discretion. I shall consider it, and if and when-”
The doorbell rang. As I went to the hall I was considering whether it was Andrew Frost with a legal chip on his shoulder or some journalist after crumbs. It was neither. It was Ben Dykes of Westchester County and a stranger. It might or might not be desirable to let them join the party, so I only opened the door to the two-inch crack the chain permitted and spoke through it. “Back again?”
“With bells on,” Dykes said.
“You’re Archie Goodwin?” the stranger asked. He showed a buzzer, not Westchester. New York. “Open up.”
“It’s after office hours,” I said. “Give me three good reasons why I should-”
“Take a look at the bells,” Dykes said and stuck a paper through the crack.
I took it, unfolded it, and looked. Thoroughly. It was a little wordy and high-flown, but I got the idea. “Mr Wolfe will want to see this,” I said. “He’s a great reader. Excuse me a minute.” I went to the office, waited until Wolfe finished a sentence, and told him, “Sorry to interrupt. Ben Dykes from Westchester with a New York dick for an escort, and with this.” I showed the paper. “A court order that Archie Goodwin is to be arrested and held on a charge of grand larceny. On a complaint by Mrs Althea Vail. It’s called a warrant.” I turned to Cramer. “Got any more questions before I leave?”
He didn’t even glance at me. His eyes were fastened on Wolfe, who had just said that he had identified a murderer. Wolfe put out a hand, and I gave him the paper, and he read it. “She’s an imbecile,” he declared. “Bring them in.”
“We don’t need Goodwin,” Cramer said. “You’ll have him out on bail in the morning.”
“Bring them,” Wolfe snapped.
I returned to the front, removed the chain, pulled the door open, invited them in, and was surprised to see that there were three of them. Presumably the third one had stayed at the foot of the steps as a reserve in case I started shooting. You’ve got to use tactics when you go for a gorilla. I soon discovered how wrong I was when they followed me to the office and the third one darted by me to Wolfe’s desk, whipped a paper from a pocket, and shoved it at Wolfe. “For you,” he said and wheeled and was going, but Ben Dykes caught his arm and demanded, “Who are you?”
“Jack Duffy, process server,” he said and jerked loose and trotted out.
“A goddam paper boy,” Dykes said disgustedly. I stepped to the hall, saw that he shut the door as he went, and stepped back in. Wolfe had picked up the document and was scowling at it. He read it through, let it fall to the desk, leaned back, closed his eyes, and pushed his lips out. In a moment he pulled them in, then out, in, out…
Dykes said, “All right, Goodwin, let’s go.” The New York dick had suddenly recognized Inspector Cramer and was trying to catch his eye so he could salute, but Cramer was staying at Wolfe. In a minute Wolfe opened his eyes, straightened up, and asked his expert on women, me, “Is she a lunatic?” He tapped the document. “This is a summons. She is suing me, not only for the money in the suitcase, but also to recover the fee she paid me.”
“
Wolfe regarded him. “Mr Cramer. I have a proposal. I would prefer not to describe it for other ears, and I think you share that preference. It is within the discretion of the police to postpone service of a warrant of arrest if it is thought desirable. I suggest that you advise Mr Dykes, who is accompanied by a member of your force, to wait until tomorrow noon to take Mr Goodwin into custody. After they leave I’ll make my proposal.”
Cramer cocked his head and screwed his lips. He had to pretend to give it a hard look, but actually there was nothing to it. By now he knew darned well that Wolfe wasn’t grandstanding. He spoke. “Dykes is from Westchester. He has a New York man with him for courtesy, but the arrest is up to him.” His head turned. “What about it, Dykes? Would you have to phone White Plains?”
Dykes shook his head. “That wouldn’t be necessary, Inspector. I’m supposed to use my head.”
“All right, use it. You heard what Wolfe said. If it’s just a stall, you can take Goodwin tomorrow.”
Dykes hesitated. “If you don’t mind, Inspector, I’d like to be able to say that you made it a request.”
“Then say it. It’s a request.”
Dykes went to Wolfe’s desk and picked up the warrant, then turned to me. “You won’t leave the state, Goodwin.”
I told him I wouldn’t dream of it, and he headed out, followed by the dick, who never had got to salute Cramer. I got in front of them, wanting to be polite to a man who had postponed tossing me in the can, and let them out. When I returned to the office Wolfe was speaking.
“… but I must first satisfy myself. As I told you, I have no evidence. Mr Goodwin has already been served with a warrant, and I have been served with a summons, and I prefer not to expose myself to an action for libel.”
“Nuts. Telling me privately, libel?”
