'--and I said yes, the cab might have still been there in front when you left, but I was sure you wouldn't take it, and anyway--'
Cramer yanked her up and around, and as she came she swung with her free hand and smacked him in the face. There was too much of him to be staggered by it, but the sound effect was fine. She jerked loose and glared at him. Her big, brown, well-spaced eyes were ideal for glaring. I had a feeling that I had seen her before, but I hadn't. It was just an old memory: a seventh-grade classmate out in Ohio whom I had been impelled to kiss, and she had socked me on the ear with her arithmetic. She is now married, with five children.
'That's not advisable, Miss Bram,' Cramer stated. 'Striking a police officer.' He moved, got a yellow chair, and swung it around. 'Here. Sit down.'
'I'll sit where I please.' She perched again on the red leather arm. 'Is it advisable for a police officer to manhandle a citizen? When I got a hack license I informed myself about laws. Am I under arrest?'
'No.'
'Then don't touch me.' Her head swung around. 'You're Nero Wolfe? You're even bigger.' She didn't say bigger than what. 'I'm Judy Bram. Are you representing my friend Mira Holt?'
His eyes on her were half closed. ''Representing' is not the word, Miss Bram. I'm a detective, not a lawyer. Miss Holt has hired Mr. Goodwin, and he has hired me as his assistant. You call her your friend. Are you her friend?'
'Yes. And I want to know. She left my place around half past seven, and about an hour later I went out to keep a date. I had left my cab out front and it wasn't there, but I supposed--'
'Hold it,' Cramer snapped. He was on the yellow chair, and I was at my desk. 'I'll do the talking--'
84 3 ?* Wolfe's Door
She merely raised her voice. '--I supposed a man from the garage had come and got it, I have that arrangement--'
'Shut up!' Cramer roared. 'Or I'll shut you up!'
'How?' she asked.
It was a question. He had several choices: clamp his paw on her mouth, or pick her up and carry her out, or call in a couple of big strong men from out front, or hit her with a blunt instrument, or shoot her. All had drawbacks.
'Permit me,' Wolfe said. 'I suggest, Mr. Cramer, that you have bungled it. The notion of suddenly confronting Miss Holt with Miss Bram was of course tempting, but your appraisal of Miss Bram's temperament was faulty. Now you're stuck. You won't get the contradictions you're after. Miss Holt would be a simpleton to supply particulars until she knows what Miss Bram has said. As you well know, that does not necessarily imply culpability for either of them.'
Cramer rasped, 'You're telling Miss Holt not to answer any questions.'
'Am I? If so, unwittingly. Now, of course, you have made it plain. It would appear that you have only two alternatives: either let Miss Bram finish her account, or remove her.'
'There's a third one I like better. I'll remove Miss Holt.' Cramer got up. 'Come on, Miss Holt. I'm taking you down for questioning in connection with the murder of Phoebe Arden.'
'Is she under arrest?' Judy demanded.
'No. But if she doesn't talk she will be. As a material witness.'
'Can he do that, Mr. Wolfe?'
'Yes.'
'Without a warrant?'
'In the circumstances, yes.'
'Come on, Miss Holt,' Cramer growled.
I was sitting with my jaw set. Wolfe would rather miss a meal than let Cramer or any other cop take a client of his from that office into custody, and over the years I had seen and heard him pull some fancy maneuvers to prevent it But this was my client, and he wasn't batting an eye. I admit that it would have had to be something extra fancy, and it was up to me, not him, but I had
Method Three for Murder 85
split the fee with him. So I sat with my jaw set while Mira left the chair and Judy jabbered and Cramer touched Mira's arm and they headed for the door. Then I came to, scribbled on my memo pad formerly my memo pad--tore the sheet off, and made for the hall. Cramer had his hand on the knob.
'Here's the phone number,' I told her. 'Twenty-four-hour service. Don't forget method three.'
She took the slip, said, 'I won't,' and crossed the sill, with Cramer right behind. I noted that the floodlights and the taxi were still there before I shut the door.
Back in the office, Wolfe was leaning back with his eyes closed and Judy Bram was standing scowling at him. She switched the scowl to me and demanded, 'Why don't you put him to bed?'
'Too heavy. How many people did you tell that Mira was going to drive your cab to her husband's house?'
She eyed me, straight, for two breaths, then went to the red leather chair and sat. I took the yellow one, to be closer.
'I thought you were working for her,' she said.
'I am.'
'You don't sound like it. She didn't drive my cab.'
