Saul hung up. “He’s on his way. Half an hour, maybe less. Milk or bourbon or what?”
“Nothing, thanks, not right now. You heard me say I have an idea, but I need to take a good look at it before I share it. It’s one hell of a problem. Have you got a script?”
“No. Not even a first draft. I want to give it a look too.”
Daylight was about gone, and he went and turned on lights and pulled the window drapes. I went and sat on a chair at the table where we played poker. It was by far the worst mess I had ever looked at. If you went at it from one angle, some other angle tripped you up and you had to go back and start over. For instance, Jill, the airline hostess Orrie had married a few years ago when he had decided to settle down and quit trying to prove that Casanova had been a piker, as Saul had once put it. She still had a strong hold on him, and since she was now going to get a hell of a jolt, no matter how we handled it, why not use her? For another instance, Dora Bassett. I didn’t know how she felt about him now, but we could find out, and maybe we could use her. And three or four other angles. With any and all of them, of course the bottom question was could we possibly come out with a whole skin, all four of us? It was only when the doorbell rang and Saul went to let Fred in that I realized that I had just been shadow-boxing. No matter how we played it, one thing had to happen, and the surest and quickest way to that had to come first.
Saul, always a good host, had a couple of chairs in place in front of the couch and liquids on the coffee table — Ten Mile bourbon for Fred and me and brandy for him — and we sat and poured, Fred on the couch.
“I said on the phone,” Saul told Fred, “that it’s a powwow. Actually it’s a council of war. Tell him, Archie.”
“You tell him. You knew before I did.”
“Only because Mr. Wolfe told me. But all right. Fred, Orrie Cather killed all three of them.”
Fred nodded. “I know he did.”
Saul stared at him and said, “What?” I stared and said, “That’s the first time I ever heard you tell a double-breasted lie.”
“It’s not a lie, Archie. I knew it when he asked Mr. Wolfe to give him Lucile Ducos instead of Saul. Why didn’t he know Mr. Wolfe wouldn’t? That was crazy. Of course there was another thing too, he knew all about that room at Rusterman’s. But it was his asking to take Lucile Ducos. That was absolutely cockeyed. Of course I knew I was wrong because Mr. Wolfe didn’t know.”
“I pass,” Saul said. “I’m with Alice in Wonderland. First Archie follows instructions by ignoring instructions, and now you knew it was Orrie but you knew you were wrong.”
“I pass too,” I said. “All of you knew before I did. I’m out of my class. You talk, and I’ll listen.”
“You had a hurdle we didn’t have,” Saul said. “You knew Orrie wanted your job and thought he might get it. You’ve always gone easy on him, made allowances for him that Fred or I wouldn’t make. It’s in your reports. You had blinders that we didn’t. I should have known. You said you had an idea and wanted to give it a good look, and the blinders are off now. Let’s have it.”
I took a sip of bourbon and a swallow of water. “I just thought I had an idea. I was just slashing around. Actually all I’ve got is facts. Two facts. One, Orrie has asked for it and has to get it. He has bought it, and it has to be delivered. Two, Nero Wolfe, the great detective, the genius, is hogtied. He can’t make a move. If he goes by the book, collects the pieces and hands Cramer the package, he will have to get on the witness stand and answer questions under oath about a man he has used and trusted for years. He wouldn’t do that, he would rather spend ten years behind bars than do that. You know damn well he wouldn’t, and I’m glad he wouldn’t. All of us would have to answer questions in public about a guy we have worked with and played pinochle with.”
I swallowed bourbon, too big a swallow, and had to swallow air for a chaser. “I don’t think he could stand the sight of Orrie Cather. That’s why we had to meet here instead of at the office. An hour ago on the telephone I told him we were going to get Fred and decide what to do, and I asked him if he wanted to talk, and he hung up. If we walked into the office with Orrie, he would walk out. He couldn’t take it. So we—”
“I’ll tell you something,” Fred said. “I don’t think I could take it either. If he walked in here right now, I wouldn’t walk out, I would kill him. I’ve got my gun, I always carry a gun at night now, but I wouldn’t shoot him, I’d break his neck.”
“We would all like to break his neck,” Saul said, “but we’ve got necks too. Of course he has to get it, and it’s up to us to deliver it, the question is how.” He looked at me. “I thought that was the idea you wanted to look at.”
I nodded. “We’ll all look at it.” I looked at my watch: 5:22. “I suggest that you ring him and invite him to come at nine o’clock. Just for a powwow. Okay, Fred?”
He lifted his glass, looked at it, and put it down. “I guess so. Hell, we have to, don’t we?”
Saul got up and went to the desk and picked up the phone.
Chapter 16
I wouldn’t want to go through that again. I don’t mean the three hours while we discussed it and decided what to do. The hour after he came, while we did it.
I’m not even sure we would have gone through with it if it hadn’t been for the bomb. We felt silly, at least I did, standing there at the door of the apartment while he was on his way up the three flights, standing so he could only see Saul as he approached — Saul in the doorway to greet the arriving guest.
As I think I mentioned, Orrie was half an inch taller than me and fully as broad, without a flabby ounce on him. As he stepped in, we jumped him, Saul from the back and Fred and I from the sides, and pinned him. His reflex, his muscles acting on their own, lasted only half a second. Saul’s arm was around his neck, locking him. No one said anything. Saul started to go over him from behind, first his right side and then his left. His topcoat wasn’t buttoned. From under his left arm Saul took his gun, which was of course to be expected, and dropped it on the rug. Then from his inside breast pocket Saul’s hand came out with something that was not to be expected because Orrie didn’t smoke: an aluminum cigar tube. Don Pedro.
Fred said, “Jesus Christ.”
As I said, without that I’m not sure we would have gone through with it. Saul made sure the cap was screwed on tight and put it in his own breast pocket and finished the frisking job. Fred and I turned loose and moved back, and Orrie turned and took a step. Going to leave. Actually. Saul was there and kicked the door shut. I said, “Hell, you might have known, Orrie. You should have known. Coming here with that in your pocket? What do you take us for?”
Fred said, “You said it, Saul. You said we had to jump him. Jesus Christ.”
Saul said, “On in, Orrie. It’s our deal.”
I had never had the idea that Orrie Cather was dumb. He was no Saul Panzer, but he wasn’t dumb. But he was dumb then. “What for?” he said. “All right, you’ve got it.” His voice was almost normal, just squeezed a little. “I’m not going to blow. I’m going home.”
“Oh, no, you’re not,” Fred said. “My god, don’t you know it’s coming and you’ve got to take it?”
Saul had picked up the gun, an old S & W.38 Orrie had had for years, and stuck it in his pocket. “On in, Orrie. Move. We’re going to talk.” I took hold of his left arm. He jerked loose and took a step and kept going, to the arch and on into the big room. Saul got ahead of him and led the way across to the couch. The four of us had played pinochle in that room. We had tagged Paul Rago for murder in that room. Orrie took the chair in the middle, with Saul on his left and Fred on his right, and me on the couch. As Saul sat, he said, “Tell him, Archie.”