having ideas there'll be hell to pay and you'll probably do the paying. Second, I want you both to realize that whoever killed Eisler is going to get tagged, and the sooner the better. It's one of six people: Nan Karlin, Anna Casado, Harvey Greve, Mel Fox, and Roger Dunning and his wife. If you know of any reason, anything at all, why one of them might have wanted Eisler dead, I expect you to tell me and tell me now.'
| 'You say Laura still thinks I killed him,' Cal said.
I 'She may be losing her grip on that. After the way her other sf ideas have panned out she must be shaky on that one.' I looked
I at her. 'Make it hypothetical, Laura. If Cal didn't, who did?'
; 'I don't know.'
i 'What about Harvey Greve? He's a friend of mine, but I'll over
I look that if he's it. Could he have had a motive?'
174 3 at Wolfe's Door
'I don't know.'
'What about Roger Dunning? Did Eisler make passes at his wife?'
'If he did I never saw him. Neither did anybody else. She's not well, you saw her--why would he? With all the girls to paw at. She must be nearly fifty.'
Ellen Dunning probably wasn't a day over forty, but I admit she was a little faded. I turned to Cal. 'Tour turn. If you didn't kill him who did?'
He shook his head. 'You got me. Does it have to be one of them six?'
'Yes.'
'Then I pass. I just couldn't guess.'
'It will take more than a guess. My third reason for taking up your time, not to mention mine: I wanted to have another look at you and listen to you some more. You're the only one with a known motive, and I'm the one that knows it. Nero Wolfe has bought my conclusion that you're out, and I haven't told the cops, and if I'm wrong I'm sunk. Besides, Laura would have the laugh on me, and I'd hate that. Did you kill him?'
'I'll tell you, Archie.' He was actually grinning at me, and there was nothing but me between him and a murder trial. 'I wouldn't want her to have the laugh on me, either. And she won't.'
'Okay.' I got up. 'For God's sake keep an eye on her. Do you know Harvey's room number?'
'Sure. He's down the hall. Five-thirty-one.'
I went.
Knocking on the door of Room 531, first normal and then loud, got no result. I intended to see Harvey. He might be down in the lobby, and if he wasn't I would try the Garden. There was no hurry about getting back to the office, since it was only four-thirty and Wolfe wouldn't be down from the plant rooms until six. Taking the elevator down, I found that there were more people in the lobby than when I came. Moving around, I didn't see Harvey, but I saw a man I knew, standing over in a corner chinning with a couple of cowboys. It was Fred Durkin. Fred, a free-lance, was second-best of the three operatives whom Wolfe considers good
The Rodeo Murder 175
enough to trust with errands when we need help on a job. I looked at my watch: 4:34. Nearly an hour and a half since I had left with Laura, time enough for Wolfe to get Fred on the phone, brief him, and put him to work. Had he? Of course it could be that Fred was there on a job for one of the agencies that used him, but that would have been quite a coincidence and I don't like coincidences.
That question would have to wait for an answer. Knowing that Harvey Greve liked a drink when one was handy, I crossed the lobby and entered the bar. The crowd there was smaller but noisier. No Harvey, but there were booths along the wall, and I strolled back for a look, and found him. He was in a booth, deep in conversation with a man. Neither of them saw me, and I went on by, circled and backtracked, returned to the lobby, and on out to the street.
The man with Harvey was Saul Panzer. Saul is not only the first-best of the three men Wolfe uses for errands, he is the best operative south of the North Pole. That settled it. Fred could have been a coincidence, but not both of them. Wolfe had got busy on the phone the minute I was out of the house, or darned soon after What had stung him? No answer. At Ninth Avenue I flagged a taxi. When I gave the hackie the number on West 35th Street, he said, 'What a honor. Archie Goodwin in person. Your name in the paper again but no pitcher this time. Stranglin' a guy with a lasso right on Park Avenue, can you beat that? Whodunit?'
I'm all for fame, but I was too busy guessing to smirk.
The hackie had another honor coming. When the cab rolled to a stop in front of the old brownstone and I climbed out, a man appeared from behind a parked car and spoke to him. It was Sergeant Purley Stebbins. He said to the hackie, 'Hold it, driver. Police.' He said to me, 'You're under arrest. I've got a warrant.' He took a paper from a pocket and offered it.
He was enjoying it. He would have enjoyed even more to see me squirm, so I didn't. I didn't bother to look at the paper. 'Information received?' I asked politely. 'Or just on general principles?'
'The inspector will tell you. We'll use this cab. Get in.'
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I obeyed. He climbed in beside me and told the driver, 'Two thirty West Twentieth,' and we rolled.
I chose to snub him. He was of course expecting me to try some appropriate cracks, so of course I didn't. I didn't open my trap from the time I climbed in the cab until he ushered me into the office of Inspector Cramer, which is on the third floor of the dingy old building that houses the precinct. I didn't open it even then. I waited until I was in a chair at the end of darner's desk, and he said, 'I've been going over your statement, Goodwin, and I want
