morgue?” “Yeah, I guess so. It was hard-sure, it was him.” “That was Kerr Naylor. So was the photograph I showed you. Where did you take him to?” “He told me Nine-fourteen West Thirty-fifth Street and that’s where I took him.”
“That’s this address where we are now?” “Yes.” “What happened when you got here?” “When he paid me he said he wasn’t sure there would be anybody home, so would I wait till he found out, and I waited until he went up the steps and rang the bell, and the door opened and he started talking to someone, and then I shoved off. I didn’t wait until he went inside because he didn’t ask me to.” “But the door opened for him and he spoke with someone?” “Yeah, I can say that much.” “All right, go out to the car and stay there. I may want you in here again. Do you want to ask him any questions, Wolfe?” Wolfe, still bored, shook his head indifferently. Darst got up and left, but Sergeant Stebbins stayed put. Cramer waited until the sound of the front door closing behind Darst came to us and then spoke with the calm assurance of a man who has cards to spare.
“So I say you’re crazy. This is completely Cockeyed and if you can brush this one off I want to hear it. Try telling me that the fact that Naylor came and rang your bell and the door was opened doesn’t prove that he came on in, and then I ask you please to tell me, in that case, how did you happen to know that he got in a cab on Fifty-third Street at half-past eight? Wait a minute, I’m not through. That sounds like good reasoning, don’t it? But if it is, why in the name of God did you phone my office to tell about his taking a taxi, and even give us the number of the cab? Knowing it would be pie to find it. I say you’re crazy. Usually when you’re staging a runaround at least I have a general idea which direction you’re going, but this time you’ll have to spell it out. I would love to hear you.” “Pfui,” Wolfe muttered.
“Okay, phooey. Go on from there.” “Archie,” Wolfe asked me casually, “you went to a movie Friday evening?” “Yes, sir.” “What time did you leave here?” “Right around eight-thirty.” “Then you couldn’t have opened the door for Mr. Naylor.” Wolfe pushed a button on his desk, and in a moment the door to the hall opened and Fritz appeared.
Wolfe addressed him, “Fritz, do you remember that Friday evening after dinner Archie went out? To the movies?” “Yes, sir.” “And that somewhat later, around a quarter to eleven I think, Mr. Cramer called?” “Yes, sir.” “That should identify the evening sufficiently. Did the doorbell ring soon after Archie left?” “Yes, sir.” “You answered it?” “Yes, sir.” “Who was it?” “He didn’t tell me his name. It was a man.” “What did he want?” “He asked for Mr. Goodwin.” “Go on, finish it.” “I told him Mr. Goodwin was out. He asked if Mr. Wolfe was in and I told him yes. After thinking to himself a brief period he asked when Mr. Goodwin would be back and I said probably some time after eleven. I asked him if he wished to leave his name and he said no. He had turned and was going down the steps when I closed the door.” Cramer made a sound which Wolfe ignored. “What time was this?” “It was eight-forty-five when I got back to the kitchen. I made a note, as always-God in heaven!” “What’s the matter?” “I forgot to tell Archie about it! When he returned Inspector Cramer was here, and then he was gone all night and slept late Saturday-this is extremely bad, sir-” “Not at all. It wouldn’t have mattered. Did you tell me about it?” “No, sir. You were reading those three books, and he hadn’t left his name-” “Describe the man.” “He was short, shorter than me, and he wore a coat and hat. He had a small face and looked pinched and worried, as if he wasn’t a good eater.” “All right, Fritz, that’s all, thank you.” Fritz went, closing the door to the hall behind him. Wolfe turned to Cramer.
“Well, sir?” Cramer shook his head. “No,” he said emphatically. “Even with Fritz coached like that I still say you’re crazy. How did you know about Naylor taking a cab and why did you phone-” Wolfe cut him off. “Don’t start shouting at me again. You’ll never learn, I suppose, how to detect when I’m lying and when I’m not. Saturday afternoon a man came to this office and told me he had seen Mr. Naylor taking that taxicab. I questioned him and was satisfied that the facts he gave me were authentic, and I immediately phoned your office and gave those facts to Mr. Stebbins. What the devil is obreptitious about that?” “Who was the man that came to your office?” “No, sir. You don’t need that.” “Excuse me, Inspector,” Purley Stebbins put in.
Cramer glared at him. “What is it?” “Why, if we want any part of this that item won’t worry us. If we buy this it wasn’t Goodwin, so it was one of the boys that do jobs for Wolfe-Gore, Gather, Durkin, Panzer, or Keems. It stands to reason he was tailing Naylor. So either you can bear down on that, or if he’s too damn stubborn we can send out and collect ’em-” The phone rang. I whirled my chair and got it. It was Saul Panzer, desiring, he said to speak to Wolfe.
“Sure,” I said, in a tone you would use to a client you expected to send a nice bill to, “he’s right here, Mr. Platt. By the way, while I’m on the wire, that big downtown law firm that says all it wants is justice, not to mention names, you know, they’re going to try to serve a summons on you and it would be good policy for you to duck it, anyhow for a day or two. There are lots of places you can go besides home. Don’t you agree?” “Nothing simpler,” Saul said, “if I understand you. Who’s there, Cramer?” “Yes, I suppose they’re going to be quite insistent about it. Here’s Mr. Wolfe.”
Wolfe got on. He followed me on the Mr. Platt. Since he signaled me to hang up, meaning that his arrangements with Saul were still none of my business, I got as little out of the conversation as Cramer and Purley did, which was nothing at all. Wolfe’s end was mostly grunts. Purley sneezed. The three of us sat and waited for him, looking at him, until an event occurred which caused us to move our eyes elsewhere.
The door to the hall came open and Rosa Bendini was there among us.
It was a fairly embarrassing situation, with Wolfe still busy on the phone and the two public servants and me sitting staring at her as she stood just inside the door in that cherry-colored thing which, whatever its name might be, was certainly not intended for street wear. I thought of saying something like, “Mabel dear, we’re discussing business with these gentlemen so go back to your room and wait for me,” or something like, “We’re engaged at present, Miss Carmichael, but we’ll see you shortly,” but the first seemed indecent and the second illogical, and no satisfactory substitute got to my tongue in time.
Wolfe, finished, dropped the phone back in its cradle and snapped at her, “What do you mean, coming in here dressed like that? Go back upstairs until I’m ready for you!” His effort, it seemed to me, was no improvement on the ones I had rejected. But no effort would have been good enough. She hadn’t merely blundered in. She came forward, on past Cramer and Purley, clear to me. She might easily have had it in mind to resume her former seat on my lap, so by the time she reached me I was standing up.
“You promised you’d be with me when they are,” she said. That was not strictly true, but close enough for a woman, especially for one who was scared to death of cops. “There’s a police car out in front, so I came to the hall and listened, and that’s who they are, and I knew I’d never get a better chance, with you here and Mr. Wolfe too.” She turned and told Cramer and Purley right to their faces, “My name is Rosa Bendini, or it’s Mrs. Harold Anthony, either one will do, and I live at Four-eighteen Bank Street, second floor, and when a cop came for me Friday night I was there in bed all the time. Now what do you want to ask me?” One thing I approved of, she didn’t hook onto my arm or try to climb into my pocket. She just wanted to say it with me there.
“This,” Cramer declared in as gloaty a tone as I had ever heard from him, “is really rich. How long have you had her hid here, Wolfe? Wasn’t there time enough to train her?” “Mr. Cramer, you’re an imbecile,” Wolfe told him for his information.
I broke in, thinking the best thing now was to mess it up good. “I bolixed it up,” I said regretfully. “Like a damn fool, I told her to bust in when I sneezed, and then Purley sneezed.” I glared at Purley. “How the hell could I know you had a cold?” “Okay.” Cramer rose, still gloating. “I suppose you have some things here, Miss
