“Like hell he has. Name her.”
“Not her, him. Fritz Brenner. He is seeing red because food cooked by him was poisoned and killed a man. It’s convenient to have the client living right in the house. You admit that a licensed detective has a right to investigate on behalf of a client.”
“I admit nothing.”
“That’s sensible,” I said approvingly. “You shouldn’t. When you’re on the stand, being sued for false arrest, it would be bad to have it thrown up to you, and it would be two against one because the hackie could testify. Can you hear us, driver?”
“Sure I can hear you,” he sang out. “It’s very interesting.”
“So watch your tongue,” I told Purley. “You could get hooked for a year’s pay. As for quoting the police, I merely said that they think it was one of those five, and when Cramer told Mr. Wolfe that he didn’t say it was confidential. As for telling them what the police think, same comment. As for playing that game with them, why not? As for trying to get them to tell me things, I won’t comment on that at all because I don’t want to be rude. That must have been a slip of the tongue. If you ask me why I didn’t balk there at the apartment and bring up these points then and there, what was the use? You had spoiled the party. They wouldn’t have come downtown with me. Also I am saving a buck of Mr. Wolfe’s money, since you had arrested me and therefore the taxi fare is on the city of New York. Am I still under arrest?”
“You’re damn right you are.”
“That may be ill-advised. You heard him, driver?”
“Sure I heard him.”
“Good. Try to remember it.”
We were on Ninth Avenue, stopped at Forty-second Street for a light. When the light changed and we moved, Purley told the hackie to pull over to the curb, and he obeyed. At that time of night there were plenty of gaps. Purley took something from a pocket and showed it to the hackie, and said, “Go get yourself a Coke and come back in ten minutes,” and he climbed out and went. Purley turned his head to glare at me.
“I’ll pay for the Coke,” I offered.
He ignored it. “Lieutenant Rowcliff,” he said, “is expecting us at Twentieth Street.”
“Fine. Even under arrest, one will get you five that I can make him start stuttering in ten minutes.”
“You’re not under arrest.”
I leaned forward to look at the meter. “Ninety cents. From here on we’ll split it.”
“Goddamn it, quit clowning! If you think I’m crawling you’re wrong. I just don’t see any percentage in it. If I deliver you in custody I know damn well what you’ll do. You’ll clam up. We won’t get a peep out of you, and in the morning you’ll make a phone call and Parker will come. What will that get us?”
I could have said, “A suit for false arrest,” but it wouldn’t have been diplomatic, so I made it, “Only the pleasure of my company.”
There was one point of resemblance between Purley and Carol Annis, just one: no sense of humor. “But,” he said, “Lieutenant Rowcliff is expecting you, and you’re a material witness in a homicide case, and you were up there working on the suspects.”
“You could arrest me as a material witness,” I suggested helpfully.
He uttered a word that I was glad the hackie wasn’t there to hear, and added, “You’d clam up and in the morning you’d be out on bail. I know it’s after midnight, but the lieutenant is expecting you.”
He’s a proud man, Purley is, and I wouldn’t go so far as to say that he has nothing to be proud of. He’s not a bad cop, as cops go. It was a temptation to keep him dangling for a while, to see how long it would take him to bring himself to the point of coming right out and asking for it, but it was late and I needed some sleep.
“You realize,” I said, “that it’s a waste of time and energy. You can tell him everything we said, and if he tried to go into other aspects with me I’ll only start making cracks and he’ll start stuttering. It’s perfectly useless.”
“Yeah, I know, but—”
“But the lieutenant expects me.”
He nodded. “It was him Nora Jaret told about it, and he sent me. The inspector wasn’t around.”
“Okay. In the interest of justice. I’ll give him an hour. That’s understood? Exactly one hour.”
“It’s not understood with me.” He was emphatic. “When we get there you’re his and he’s welcome to you. I don’t know if he can stand you for an hour.”
VII
At noon the next day, Thursday, Fritz stood at the end of Wolfe’s desk, consulting with him on a major point of policy: whether to switch to another source of supply for water cress. The quality had been below par, which for them means perfection, for nearly a week. I was at my desk, yawning. It had been after two o’clock when I got home from my chat with Lieutenant Rowcliff, and with nine hours’ sleep in two nights I was way behind.
The hour since Wolfe had come down at eleven o’clock from his morning session with the orchids had been spent, most of it, by me reporting and Wolfe listening. My visit with Rowcliff needed only a couple of sentences, since the only detail of any importance was that it had taken me eight minutes to get him stuttering, but Wolfe wanted my conversation with the girls verbatim, and also my impressions and conclusions. I told him my basic conclusion was that the only way she could be nailed, barring a stroke of luck, would be by a few dozen men sticking to the routine — her getting the poison and her connection with Pyle.
“And,” I added, “her connection with Pyle may be hopeless. In fact, it probably is. If it’s Helen Iacono, what she told us is no help. If what she told us is true she had no reason to kill him, and if it isn’t true how are you going to prove it? If it’s one of the others she is certainly no halfwit, and there may be absolutely nothing to link her up. Being very careful with visitors to your penthouse is fine as long as you’re alive, but it has its drawbacks if one of them feeds you arsenic. It may save her neck.”
He was regarding me without enthusiasm. “You are saying in effect that it must be left to the police. I don’t have a few dozen men. I can expose her only by a stroke of luck.”
“Right. Or a stroke of genius. That’s your department. I make no conclusions about genius.”
“Then why the devil were you going to bring them to me at midnight? Don’t answer. I know. To badger me.”
“No, sir. I told you. I had got nowhere with them. I had got them looking at each other out of the corners of their eyes, but that was all. I kept on talking, and suddenly I heard myself inviting them to come home with me. I was giving them the excuse that I wanted them to discuss it with you, but that may have been just a cover for certain instincts that a man is entitled to. They are very attractive girls — all but one.”
“Which one?”
“I don’t know. That’s what we’re working on.”
He probably would have harped on it if Fritz hadn’t entered to present the water-cress problem. As they wrestled with it, dealing with it from all angles, I swiveled my back to them so I could do my yawning in private. Finally they got it settled, deciding to give the present source one more week and then switch if the quality didn’t improve; and then I heard Fritz say, “There’s another matter, sir. Felix phoned me this morning. He and Zoltan would like an appointment with you after lunch, and I would like to be present. They suggested half past two, if that will suit your convenience.”
“What is it?” Wolfe demanded. “Something wrong at the restaurant?”
“No, sir. Concerning the misfortune of Tuesday evening.”
“What about it?”
“It would be better for them to tell you. It is their concern.”
I swiveled for a view of Fritz’s face. Had Felix and Zoltan been holding out on us? Fritz’s expression didn’t tell me, but it did tell Wolfe something: that it would be unwise for him to insist on knowing the nature of Felix’s and Zoltan’s concern because Fritz had said all he intended to. There is no one more obliging than Fritz, but also there is no one more immovable when he has taken a stand. So Wolfe merely said that half past two would be convenient. When Fritz had left I offered to go to the kitchen and see if I could pry it out of him, but Wolfe said no, apparently it wasn’t urgent.