she had a lawyer make it legal on a temporary basis. But I'm damn sure the baby in her house is the one Ellen Tenzer had in her house until around May twentieth. There were two overalls in Ellen Tenzer's house exactly like the ones Goodwin showed to AnneTenzer, with the same kind of buttons. Those goddam buttons.
It seemed to me beside the point for him to be nursing an anti-button grudge, but maybe he had had an interview with Nicholas Losseff.
He was going on. So I want to know what Mrs. Valdon knows, and what you know, about that baby. The DA can't get anything out of her lawyer or her doctor, and of course they're privileged. The nurse, and the maid and the cook aren't privileged, but if they know anything they've been corked. The nurse claims that all she knows about it is that it's a boy, it's healthy, and it's between five and seven months old. So Mrs. Valdon is not its mother. She didn't have a baby in December or January.
I have given you my word, Wolfe add, that I have no notion of who killed Ellen Tenzer.
I heard you.
I now give you my word that I know no more about that baby its parentage, its background, who put it in Mrs. Valdon's vestibule than you do.
I don't believe it.
Nonsense. Certainly you do. You know quite well I wouldn't dishonor that fine old phrase.
Cramer glared. Then what in the name of God do you know? What did she hire you to do? Why have you kept her covered? Why have you told her to clam?
She consulted me in confidence. Why should I be denied a privilege that is accorded to lawyers and doctors, even those who are patently unworthy of it? She had violated no law, she had done nothing for which she was obliged to account, she had no knowledge of an actionable offense. There was no. What did she hire you to do?
Wolfe nodded. There's the rub. If I tell you that, with all details, or if she tells you, she will be a public target. When the baby was left in her vestibule it was wrapped in a blanket, and attached to the blanket inside, with an ordinary bare pin, was a slip of paper with a message on it. The message had been printed with rubber typo one of those kits that are used mostly by children. Therefore What did it say?
You're interrupting. Therefore it was useless as a pointer.It was the message that moved Mrs. Valdon to come to me. If I. Where is it?
If I told you what it said my client would be subjected to vulgar notoriety. And it I want that message and I want it now!
You have interrupted me four times, Mr. Cramer. My tolerance is not infinite. You would say, of course, that the message would not be published, and in good faith, but your good faith isn't enough. No doubt Mrs. Nesbitt was assured that her name wouldn't become known, but it did. So I reserve the message. I was about to say, it wouldn't help you to find your murderer. Except for that one immaterial detail, you know all that I know, now that you have reached my client. As for what Mrs. Valdon hired me to do, that's manifest. I engaged to find the mother of the baby. They have been at that, and that alone, for more than three weeks Mr. Goodwin, Mr. Panzer, Mr. Durkin, and Mr. Cather. You ask if I'm blocked. I am. I'm at my wit's end.
I'll bet you are. Cramer's eyes were slits. If you're reserving the message why did you tell me about it?
To explain why Mrs. Valdon is at such pains about a baby left in her vestibule. To prevent her harassment I had to tell you what she hired me to do, and if I told you that, I had to tell you why.
Of course you've got the message.
I may have. If you have in mind getting a judge to order me to produce it, it will not be available. Don't bother.
I won't. Cramer stood up. He took a step, threw the cigar at my wastebasket, and missed as usual. He looked down at Wolfe. I don't believe there was a message. I noticed you didn't use that fine old phrase. I want the real reason Mrs. Valdon is spending a fortune on a stray baby, and keeping her lip buttoned, and if I don't get it from you, by God I'll get it from her. And if there was a message I'll get that from her.
Wolfe hit the desk with his fist. After all this! he roared. After I have indulged you to the utmost! After I have given you my word on the two essential points! You would molest my client!
You're damn right I would. Cramer took a step toward the door, remembered his hat, reached across the red leather chair to get it, and marched out. I went to the hall to see that he was on the outside when he shut the door. When I stepped back in, Wolfe spoke.
No mention of anonymous letters. A stratagem?
No. The mood he's in, he would have used any club he had. So it wasn't Upton. Not that that matters. There were a dozen lines to her.
He took in air through his nose, clear down, and let it out through his mouth. She knows nothing he doesn't know, except the message. Should you tell her to talk, reserving only that?
No. If she answers ten questions they'll make it a million. I'll go and tell her what to expect, and I'll be there when they come with a warrant. I suggest you should phone Parker. Tomorrow's the Fourth of July, and arranging bail on a holiday can be a problem.
The wretch, he growled, and as I headed for the front I was wondering whether he meant Cramer or the client. When Saul Panzer phoned at half past three Saturday afternoon, July 7, to report that he had closed the last gap on the adoption, eliminating the girl who worked in Willis Krug's office, the second stage of the mother hunt was done. A very superior job by all five of us (I might as well include Wolfe): 148 girls and women covered and crossed off, and nobody's face scratched. Very satisfactory. Nuts. I told Sal that would be all for now but there might be more chores later. Fred and Orrie had already been turned loose.
Wolfe sat and scowled at whatever his eyes happened to light on. I asked him if he had any program for me, and when he gave me a look that the situation fully deserved but I didn't, I told him I was going to a beach for a swim and would be back Sunday night. He didn't even ask where he could reach me, but before I left I put a slip on his desk with a phone number. It belonged to a cottage on Long Island which Lucy Valdon had rented for the summer.
