“It was medium in pitch, clear and precise, educated-I mean good diction and grammar-and matter-of-fact. One day I called the number of the publication-as you probably know it's listed-and asked for Miss Poole. It was Miss Poole talking, she said. I discussed a paragraph in the latest issue, and she was intelligent and informed about it. But her voice was soprano, jerky and nervous, nothing like the voice that had told me how to get the letters stopped.”
“It wouldn't be. That was what you phoned for?”
“Yes. I thought I'd have that much satisfaction at least, since there was no risk in it.”
“You might have saved your nickel,” Wolfe: grimaced. “Dr Michaels, I'm going to ask you a question.”
“Go ahead.”
“I don't want to, but though the question is intrusive it is also important. And it will do no good to ask it unless I can be assured of a completely candid reply or refusal to answer at all. You would be capable of a fairly good job of evasion if you were moved to try, and I don't want that. Will you give me either candour or silence?”
Michaels smiled. “Silence is so awkward. I'll give you a straight answer or I'll say ‘no comment’.”
“Good. How much substance was there in the hints in those letters about your conduct?”
The doctor looked at him, considered, and finally nodded his head. “It's intrusive, all right, but I'll take your word for it that it's important. You want a full answer?”
“As full as possible.”
“Then it must be confidential.”
“It will be.”
“I accept that. I don't ask for your solemn word of honour. There was not even a shadow of substance. I have never, with any patient, even approached the boundaries of professional decorum. But I'm not like you; I have a deep aind intense need for the companionship of a woman. I suppose that's why I married so early-and so disastrously. Possibly her money attracted me too, though I would vigorously deny it; there are bad streaks in me. Anyway, I do have the companionship of a woman, but not the one I married. She has never been my patient. When she needs medical advice she goes to some other doctor. No doctor should assume responsibility for the health of one he loves or one he hates.”
“This companionship you enjoy-it could not have been the stimulus for the hints in the letters?”
“I don't see how. All the letters spoke of women patients-in the plural, and patients.”
“Giving their names?”
“No, no names.”
Wolfe nodded with satisfaction. “That would have taken too much research for a wholesale operation, and it wasn't necessary.” He came forward in his chair to reach for the push-button. “I am greatly obliged to you, Dr Michaels. This has been highly distasteful for you, and you have been most indulgent. I don't need to prolong it, and I won't. I foresee no necessity to give the police your name, and I'll even engage not to do so, though heaven only knows what my informant will do. Now we'll have some beer. We didn't get it settled about the pointed arches in the Tulun mosque.”
“If you don't mind,” the guest said, “I’e been wondering if it would be seemly to tip this brandy bottle again.”
So he stayed with the brandy while Wolfe had beer. I excused myself and went out for a breath of air, for while they were perfectly welcome to do some more settling about the pointed arches in the Tulun mosque, as far as I was concerned it had been attended to long ago.
It was past eleven when I returned, and soon afterward Michaels arose to go. He was far from being pickled, but he was much more relaxed and rosy than he had been when I let him in. Wolfe was so mellow that he even stood up to say good-bye, and I didn't see his usual flicker of hesitation when Michaels extended a hand. He doesn't care about shaking hands indiscriminately.
Michaels said impulsively, “I want to ask you something.”
“Then do so.”
“I want to consult you professionally-your profession. I need help. I want to pay for it.”
“You will, sir, if it's worth anything.”
“It will be, I'm sure. I want to know, if you are being shadowed, if a man is following you, how many ways are there of eluding him, and what are they, and how are they executed?”
“Good heavens.” Wolfe shuddered. “How long has this been going on?”
“For months.”
“Well-Archie?”
“Sure,” I said. “Glad to.”
“I don't want to impose on you,” Michaels lied. He did. It's late.”
“That's okay. Sit down.”
I really didn't mind, having met his wife.
Chapter Nineteen That, I thought to myself as I was brushing my hair Thursday morning, covered some ground. That was a real step forward.
Then, as I dropped the brush into the drawer, I asked aloud: “Yeah? Toward what?”
In a murder case you expect to spend at least half your time barking up wrong trees. Sometimes that gets you irritated, but what the hell, if you belong in the detective business at all you just skip it and take another look. That wasn't the trouble with this one. We hadn't gone dashing around investigating a funny sound only to learn it was just a cat on a fence. Far from it. We had left all that to the cops. Every move we had made had been strictly pertinent. Our two chief discoveries-the tape on the bottle of coffee and the way the circulation department of What to Expect operated-were unquestionably essential parts of the picture of the death of Cyril Orchard, which was what we were working on.
So it was a step forward. Fine. When you have taken a step forward, the next thing on the programme is another step in the same direction. And that was the pebble in the griddle cake I broke a tooth on that morning. Bathing and dressing and eating breakfast, I went over the situation from every angle and viewpoint, and I had to admit this: if Wolfe had called me up to his room and asked me for a suggestion of how I should spend the day, I would have been tongue-tied.
What I'm doing, if you're following me, is to justify what I did do. When he did call me up to his room, and wished me a good morning, and asked how I had slept, and told me to phone Inspector Cramer and invite him to pay us a visit at eleven o'clock, all I said was: “Yes, sir.”
There was another phone call which I had decided to make on my own. Since it involved a violation of a law Wolfe had passed I didn't want to make it from the office, so when I went out for a stroll to the bank to deposit a cheque from a former client who was paying in instalments, I patronized a booth. When I got Lon Cohen I told him I wanted to ask him something that had no connection with the detective business, but was strictly private. I said I had been offered a job at a figure ten times what he was worth, and fully half what I was, and while I had no intention of leaving Wolfe, I was curious. Had he ever heard of a guy named Arnold Zeck, and what about him? “Nothing for you,” Lon said.
“What do you mean, nothing for me?”
“I mean you don't want a Sunday feature, you want the low-down, and I haven't got it. Zeck is a question mark. I've heard that he owns twenty Assemblymen and six district leaders, and I've also heard that he is merely a dried fish.
There's a rumour that if you.print something about him that he resents your body is washed ashore at Montauk Point, mangled by sharks, but you know how the boys talk. One little detail-this is between us?”
“Forever.”
“There's not a word on him in our morgue. I had occasion to look once, several years ago-when he gave his yacht to the Navy. Not a thing, which is peculiar for a guy that gives away yachts and owns the highest hill in Westchester. What's the job?”
“Skip it. I wouldn't consider it. I thought he still had his yacht.”
I decided to let it lay. If the time should come when Wolfe had to sneak outdoors and look for a place to hide, I didn't want it blamed on me.
Cramer arrived shortly after eleven. He wasn't jovial, and neither was I. When he came, as I had known him to, to tear Wolfe to pieces, or at least to threaten to haul him downtown or send a squad with a paper signed by a judge, he had fire in his eye and springs in his calves. This time he was so forlorn he even let me hang up his hat and coat for him. But as he entered the office, I saw him squaring his shoulders. He was so used to going into that room to be belligerent that it was automatic. He growled a greeting, sat, and demanded: “What have you got this time?”