“You know damn well I don’t. I want you to go to work and come up with instructions for me. Unless Saul is handling it?”
“Saul has been given a little task I didn’t want to spare you for. You will accept my decision that at the moment there is nothing to be done by either you or me. That condition may continue for a week, until after the deadline has come and gone. Messrs. Hansen and Buff and O’Garro and Assa—and Mr. Heery too—are quite wrong in thinking that the culprit must be exposed before the deadline; on the contrary, it will be much more feasible after the deadline, unless—”
“That won’t do us any good. You can’t stall them that long. They’ll bounce you.”
“I doubt it. I’d have something to say about it. And anyway, I was saying that it will be more feasible after the deadline unless something happens, and I rather think that something will. The tension is extremely severe, not only for the culprit, but also for the others, in one way or another. That’s why you can’t go to the ball game; you must be at hand. Also for the phone calls. They’ll get increasingly exigent and must be handled discreetly but firmly. I could help some with them, but it would be best for me to be so deeply engaged with the problem that I am unavailable. Of course they are not to be told that I think the solution may have to wait until after the deadline.”
“Say by the Fourth of July,” I suggested bitterly.
“Sooner than that or not at all.” He was tolerant. “Commonly I take your badgering as a necessary evil; it has on occasion served a purpose; but this may go on for a while and I wish to be spared. I assure you, Archie—”
The phone rang. I answered it, and a trained female voice told me that Mr. O’Garro wanted to speak with Mr. Wolfe. Evidently they were reverting to type up at LBA. I told her Mr. Wolfe was engaged, but Mr. O’Garro could speak with Mr. Goodwin if he cared to. She said he wanted Mr. Wolfe, and I said I was sorry he couldn’t have him. She told me to hold on, and after a wait resumed by asking me to put Mr. Goodwin on, and I said he was on. Then I got a male voice: “Hello, Goodwin? This is Pat O’Garro. I want to speak to Wolfe!”
“So I understand, but I have strict instructions not to disturb him, and I don’t dare to. When he’s buried in a case, as he is right now in yours, it’s not only bad for me if I interrupt him, it’s bad for the case. You’ve given him a tough one to crack, and you’d better leave him alone with it.”
“My God, we’ve got to know what he’s doing!”
“No, sir. Excuse me, but you’re dead wrong. You either rely on him to get it or you don’t. When he’s working as hard as he is on this he never tells anybody what he’s doing, and it’s a big mistake to ask him. As soon as there’s anything you’d like to know or need to know or can help with, you’ll hear without delay. I told Mr. Hansen, and also Mr. Buff, about Inspector Cramer calling on us last night.”
“I know you did. What time this afternoon can I drop in?”
“Any time that suits you. I’ll be here, and you can look at the transcripts of the talks with the contestants if you want to. Mr. Wolfe will be upstairs and not available. When he’s sunk in a thing as he is in this it’s a job to get him to eat.”
“But damn it, what’s he doing?”
“He’s using the brain you hired. Didn’t you gentlemen decide you needed a special kind of brain? All right, you got one.”
“We certainly did. I’ll see you this afternoon.”
I told him that would be fine, and hung up, and turned to ask Wolfe if that would do, but he had lifted his book and opened it and I didn’t want to disturb him.
Chapter 12
Thank the Lord those next four days are behind me instead of ahead. I admit that there are operations and situations where the best you can do is set a trap and then wait patiently for the victim to spring it, and in such a case I can wait as patiently as the next one, but we had set no trap. Waiting for the victim to make the trap himself and then spring it called for more patience than I had in stock.
Wolfe had asked me what I would suggest, and I spent part of the time from Thursday noon to Friday noon, in between phone calls and personal appearances of LBA personnel and Talbott Heery, trying to hit on something. I had to agree with him that there was no point in tagging along after the cops on any of the routines. Altogether, while sitting at my desk or on the stool in the kitchen, or brushing my teeth, or shaving, or looking out the window, I conceived at least a dozen bright ideas, none of them worth a damn when you turned them over. I did submit one of them to Wolfe after dinner Thursday evening: to get the five contestants together in the office, and tell them it had been thought that Dahlmann had put the answers to the last five verses in a safe deposit box, but evidently he hadn’t, since none could be found, and there was no authentic list of answers against which their solutions could be checked, and therefore other verses, not yet devised, would have to replace the ones they had. He asked what good it would do. I said we would get their reactions. He said we already had their reactions, and besides, LBA would properly reject a procedure that made them out a bunch of bungling boobies.
There was nothing in Friday’s papers that struck a spark, but at least they didn’t announce that Cramer had got his man and the case was solved. Just the contrary. No one had been tapped even as a material witness, and it was plain, from the way the Gazette handled it, that the field was still wide open. Lon Cohen phoned again around noon to ask what Wolfe was waiting for, and I told him for a flash. He asked what kind of flash, and I told him to ask Miss Frazee.
The climax of the phone calls from the clients began soon after lunch Friday. Wolfe was up in his room to be away from the turmoil. He had finished Beauty for Ashes and started on Party of One, not in verse, by Clifton Fadiman. The climax was in three scenes, the hero of the first one being Patrick O’Garro. It was the third call from him in the twenty-four hours, and he made it short and to the point. He asked to speak to Wolfe and I gave him the usual dose. He asked if I had anything to report and I said no.
“All right,” he said, “that’s enough. This is formal notice that our agreement with him is canceled and he is no longer representing Lippert, Buff and Assa. This conversation is being recorded. He can send a bill for services to date. Did you hear me?”
“Sure I hear you. I’d like to say more because my phone conversations don’t get recorded very often, but there’s nothing to say. Goodbye.”
I went to the hall, up the flight of stairs to Wolfe’s room, tapped on the door, and entered. He was in the big chair by the window, in his shirt sleeves with his vest unbuttoned, with his book.
“You look nice and comfortable,” I said approvingly, “but you prefer the chair downstairs and you can come on down if you want to. O’Garro just phoned and canceled the order. We’re fired. He said the conversation was being recorded. I wonder why it makes a man feel important to have what he says on the phone recorded? I don’t mean him, I mean me.”
“Bosh,” he said.
“No, really, it did make me feel important.”
“Shut up.” He closed his eyes. In a minute he opened them. “Very well. I’ll be down shortly. It’s a confounded nuisance.”
I agreed and left him. As I went back downstairs my feelings were mixed. Getting tossed out on our ear would certainly be no fun, it wouldn’t help our prestige any, and it would reduce our bill by about ninety-five per cent to a mere exorbitant charge for consultation, but I did not burst into tears as I began strolling around the office to wait for developments. At least the fat son of a gun would have to snap out of it and show something. At least his eyes would get a rest from the strain of constant reading. At least I wouldn’t have to try to dig up more ways of explaining why they couldn’t speak to a genius while he was fermenting.
The phone rang, and I answered it, and was told by a baritone that I recognized, “This is Rudolph Hansen. I want to speak to Mr. Wolfe.”
I didn’t bother. I said curtly, “Nothing doing. Orders not to disturb.”
“Nonsense. He has already been disturbed by the message from Mr. O’Garro. Let me speak to him.”
“I haven’t given him the message from O’Garro. When he tells me to disturb him on no account he means it.”
“You haven’t given him that message?”
“No, sir.”
“Why not?”
“My God, how many times must I say it? Do … not … disturb.”
“That certainly is a strange way of—no matter. It’s just as well. Mr. O’Garro was too impetuous. His message is hereby canceled, on my authority as counsel for the firm of Lippert, Buff and Assa. Mr. Wolfe is too highhanded and we would like to be kept better informed, but we have full confidence in him and we want him to go on. Tell him that—no, I’ll tell him. I’ll drop in a little later. I’m tied up here for the present.”
I thanked him for calling, hung up, and mounted the stairs again to Wolfe’s room; and by gum, he wasn’t reading. He had put the book down and was sitting there looking imposed upon.
“I said I’d be down shortly,” he growled.
“Yeah, but you don’t have to. Go right on working. Hansen phoned as counsel for the firm. O’Garro was too impetuous, he said. They have full confidence in you, which shows how little—oh well. You’re to keep at it. I didn’t ask him if the conversation was recorded.”
He picked up his book. “Very well. Now you may reasonably expect a respite.”
“Not for long. Hansen’s dropping in later.”
He grunted and I left him.
The respite was a good ten minutes, maybe eleven, and it was ended at the worst possible moment. I had turned on the television and got the ball game, Giants and Dodgers, and Willie Mays was at bat in the fourth inning with a count of two and one, when the phone rang. Dialing the sound off but not the picture, I got at the phone, and received a double jolt. With my ears I heard Oliver Buff saying that both O’Garro and Hansen were too impetuous and had it wrong, and going on from there, and simultaneously with my eyes I saw Mays pop a soft blooper into short center field that I could have caught on the tip of my nose. I turned my back on that, but the rest of Buff I had to take. When he was through I went and turned off the TV, and once again ascended the stairs.
Wolfe frowned at me suspiciously. “Is this flummery?” he demanded.
“Not to my knowledge,” I told him. “It sounds like their voices.”
“Pfui. I mean you. The call by Mr. Hansen voided the one by Mr. O’Garro. You could have invented both of them; it would be typical.”
“Sure I could, but I didn’t. You asked for a ceasefire on badgering and got it. This time it was Buff. LBA seems to be tossing coins and giving me a play-by-play report. Buff voided both O’Garro and Hansen. He says they have been conferring and just reached a decision. They want a report by you personally on progress to date, and they’re all at the LBA office, including Talbott Heery, and can’t leave to come here, so you’re to go there. At once. Otherwise the deal is off. I told him, first, that you never go outdoors on business, and second, that I wasn’t supposed to disturb you and I wasn’t going to. He had heard that before. He said you would be there by four o’clock, or else. It is now a quarter past three. May I offer a suggestion?”
“What?”
“If you ever take another job for that outfit, even to find out who’s stealing the paper clips, get it in writing, signed by everybody. I’m tired out running up and down stairs.”
He didn’t hear me. With his elbow on the chair arm, he was pulling gently at the tip of his nose with thumb and forefinger. After a little he spoke. “As I said yesterday, the tension is extremely severe, and something had to snap. I doubt if this is it. This is probably merely the froth of frustration, but it may be suggestive to watch the bubbles. How long will it take you to get there?”
“This time of day, fifteen to twenty minutes.”
“Ample. Get them together. All of them.”
“Sure. Do I just tell them I’m you, or shall I borrow one of your suits and some pillows?”
“You are yourself, Archie. But I must define your position. You’ve been demanding instructions and here they are. Sit down.”
I moved a chair up.
Chapter 13
My visit to their office that afternoon probably cost LBA around three grand, maybe even five, for I found occasion later to describe the layout to Wolfe, thinking he should have it in mind when he was deciding on the amount of his bill, which he surely did if I know him.
From the directory in the lobby of the modern midtown skyscraper I learned that LBA had six floors, which opened my eyes and made me pick one. Choosing twenty-two because it was marked Executive, I found the proper elevator, was lifted, and emerged into a chamber that would have been fine for badminton if you took up the rugs. With upholstered chairs here and there sort of carelessly, and spots of light from modern lamps, it was a very cultured atmosphere. Two or three of the chairs were occupied, and at the far side, facing the elevators, an aristocratic brunette with nice little ears was seated at an executive desk eight feet long. When I approached she asked if she could help me, and I told her my name and said I wanted to see Mr. Buff.
“Do you have an appointment, Mr. Goodwin?”
“Yes, but under an alias, Nero Wolfe.”
That only confused her and made her suspicious, but I finally got it straightened out and she used the phone and asked me to wait. I was crossing to a chair when a door opened and Vernon Assa appeared. He stood a moment, wiping his brow and neck with a handkerchief, and then came to me. Short plump men are inclined to sweat, but it did seem that an LBA top executive might have finished wiping before entering the reception room.
“Where’s Mr. Wolfe?” he asked.
“At home. I’ll report. To all of you.”
“I don’t think—” He hesitated. “Come with me.”
We passed through into a wide carpeted hall. The third door on the left was standing open and we turned in. It was a fairly large room and would be a handsome one after the cleaning women had been around, but at present it was messy. The gleaming top of the big mahogany table in the center had most of its gleam spotted with cigarette ashes and stray pieces of paper, and the nine or ten executive-size chairs were every which way. A cigar butt had spilled out of an ash tray onto the mahogany.
Three men, not counting Assa, looked at me, and I looked at them. Talbott Heery wasn’t so broad and tall when he had slid so far forward in his chair that most of him was underneath the table. Buff’s white hair was tousled, and his round red face was puffy. He was seated across from Heery and had to twist around to look at me. Rudolph Hansen’s long thin neck had a big smudge below the right ear. He was standing to one side with his arms folded and his narrow shoulders slumped.
“Goodwin says he’ll report,” Assa told them. “We can hear what he has to say.”
“To all of you,” I said, not aggressively. “Including Mr. O’Garro.”
“He’s in a meeting and can’t be here.”
“Then I’ll wait.” I sat down. “He canceled the agreement, and it wouldn’t do much good to come to an understanding with you if he phones as soon as I get back and cancels it.”
“That was on his own initiative,” Buff said, “and unauthorized.”
“Isn’t he a member of the firm?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. I’ll wait. If I’m in the way here, tell me where.”
“Get him in here,” Heery demanded. “He can get the goddam toothpaste account any time.”
They all started clawing, not at me but at each other. I sat and watched the bubbles, and heard them. LBA was certainly boiling over, and I tried to take it in, knowing that Wolfe would want a verbatim report, but it got a little confused. Finally they got it decided, I didn’t know exactly how, and Buff got at a phone and talked, and pretty soon the door opened and Patrick O’Garro was with us. He was still brown all over, and his quick brown eyes were blazing.
“Are you all feeble-min
ded?” he blurted. “I said I’d go along with whatever you decided. I don’t intend—”
I cut in. “Hold it, Mr. O’Garro. It’s my fault. I came to report for Mr. Wolfe, and you have got to be present. I’m willing to wait, but they’re in a hurry—some of them.”
He said something cutting to Heery, and the others chimed in, and I thought the boiling was going to start again, but Buff got up and took O’Garro’s arm and eased him to a chair. Then Buff returned to his own chair, which was next to me at the left.
“All right, Goodwin,” he said. “Go ahead.”
I took a paper from my pocket and unfolded it. “First,” I announced, “here is a letter to Mr. Hansen, signed by Mr. Wolfe. It’s only one sentence. It says, ‘I here with dismiss you as my attorney and instruct you not to represent me in any matter whatsoever.’ Mr. Wolfe told me to deliver it before witnesses.” I handed it to Assa, he handed it to O’Garro, and he handed it to Hansen. Hansen glanced at it, folded it, and put it in his pocket.
“Proceed,” he said stiffly.
“Yes, sir. There are three points to consider. The first is the job itself and how you people have handled it. In the years I have been with Mr. Wolfe he has had a lot of damn fools for clients, but you have come pretty close to the record. Apparently you—”
“For God’s sake,” O’Garro demanded, “do you call that reporting? We want to know what he’s done!”
“Well, you’re not going to. Apparently you haven’t stopped to realize what the job’s like. I’ll put it this way: if he knew right now who went there and stole the wallet—and killed Dahlmann, put that in too—and all he needed was one additional piece of evidence and he knew he was going to get it tonight—if he knew all that, he wouldn’t tell any of you one single damn thing about it. Not before he had it absolutely sewed up. In the condition of panic you’re in, all of you except Mr. Hansen, I don’t know how much you can understand, but maybe you can understand that.”
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