“I do.”
O’Hara turned and blurted at Cramer, “Get Wolfe down here! Damn it, we should have hauled him in hours ago!”
This, I thought to myself, is something like. Now we ought to see some fur fly.
But we didn't, at least not as O’Hara had it programmed. What interfered was a phone call. The buzzer sounded, and Purley, seeing that his superiors were too worked up to hear it, went to the desk and answered. After a word he told Cramer, Tor you, Inspector,” and Cramer crossed and got it. O’Hara stood glaring down at me, but, having his attention called by a certain tone taken by Cramer's voice, turned to look that way. Finally Cramer hung up. The expression on his face was that of a man trying to decide what it was he just swallowed.
“Well?” O’Hara demanded.
“The desk just had a call,” Cramer said, “from the WPIT newsroom. WPIT is doing the script for the ten o'clock newscast, and they're including an announcement received a few minutes ago from Nero Wolfe. Wolfe announces that he has solved the murder cases, all three of them, with no assistance from the police, and that very soon, probably sometime tomorrow, he will be ready to tell the District Attorney the name of the murderer and to furnish all necessary information. WPIT wants to know if we have any comment.”
Of course it was vulgar, but I couldn't help it. I threw back my head and let out a roar. It wasn't so much the news itself as it was the look on O’Hara's face as the full beauty of it seeped through to him.
“The fat bum!” Purley whimpered.
I told O’Hara distinctly: The next time Cramer asks you to step into another room with him I'd advise you to step.”
He didn't hear me.
“It wasn't a question,” Cramer said, “of Wolfe having me buffaloed. With him the only question is what has he got and how and when will he use it. If that goes on the air I would just as soon quit.”
“What-” O’Hara stopped to wet his lips. “What would you suggest?”
Cramer didn't answer. He pulled a cigar from his pocket, slow motion, got it between his teeth, took it out again and hurled it for the wastebasket, missing by two feet, walked to a chair, sat down, and breathed.
“There are only two things,” he said. “Just let it land is one. The other is to ask Goodwin to call him and request him to recall the announcement-and tell him he'll be home right away to report.” Cramer breathed again. “I won't ask Goodwin that. Do you want to?”
“No! It's blackmail!” O’Hara yelled in pain.
“Yeah,” Cramer agreed. “Only when Wolfe does it there's nothing anonymous about it The newscast will be on in thirty-five minutes.”
O’Hara would rather have eaten soap. “It may be a bluff,” he pleaded.”Pure bluff!”
“Certainly it may. And it may not. It's easy enough to call it-just sit down and wait. If you're not going to call on Goodwin I guess I'll have to see if I can get hold of the Commissioner.” Cramer stood up.
O’Hara turned to me. I have to hand it to him, he looked me in the eye as he asked:
Will you do it?”
I grinned at him. “That warrant Purley showed me is around somewhere. It will be vacated?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, I've got witnesses.” I crossed to the desk and began returning my belongings to the proper pockets. The anonymous letter was there where O’Hara had left it when he had advanced to overwhelm me, and I picked it up and displayed it. “I'm taking this,” I said, “but I'll let you look at it again if you want to May I use the phone?”
I circled the desk, dropped into O’Hara's personal chair, pulled the instrument to me, and asked the male switchboard voice to get Mr Nero Wolfe. The voice asked who I was and I told it. Then we had some comedy. After I had waited a good two minutes there was a knock on the door and O’Hara called come in. The door swung wide open and two individuals entered with guns in their hands, stern and alert. When they saw the arrangements they stopped dead and looked foolish.
“What do you want?” O’Hara barked.
“The phone,” one said. “Goodwin. We didn't know…”
“For Christ's sake!” Purley exploded. “Ain't I here?” It was a breach of discipline, with his superiors present They bumped at the threshold, getting out, pulling the door after them. I couldn't possibly have been blamed for helping myself to another hearty laugh, but mere's a limit to what even a Deputy Commissioner will take, so I choked it off and sat tight until there was a voice in my ear that I knew better than any other voice on earth.
“Archie,” I said.
“Where are you?” The voice was icy with rage, but not at me.
“I'm in O’Hara's office, at his desk, using his phone. I am half-starved.
O’Hara, Cramer, and Sergeant Stebbins are present To be perfectly fair, Cramer and Purley are innocent. This bone- headed play was a solo by O’Hara. He fully realizes his mistake and sincerely apologizes. The warrant for my arrest is a thing of the past. The letter about Miss Vance is in my pocket. I have conceded nothing. I'm free to go where I please, including home. O’Hara requests, as a personal favour, that you kill the an- nouncement you gave WPI T. Can that be done?”
“It can if I choose. It was arranged through Mr Richards.”
“So I suspected. You should have seen O’Hara's face when the tidings reached him. If you choose, and all of us here hope you do, go ahead and kill it and I'll be there in twenty minutes or less. Tell Fritz I'm hungry.”
“Mr O’Hara is a nincompoop. Tell him I said so. I'll have the announcement suspended temporarily, but there will be condi- tions. Stay there. I'll phone you shortly.”
I cradled the phone, leaned back, and grinned at the three inquiring faces.
“He'll call back. He thinks he can head it off temporarily, but he's got some idea about conditions.” I focused on O’Hara. “He said to tell you that he says you're a nincompoop, but I think it would be more tactful not to mention it, so I won't.”
“Some day,” O’Hara said through his teeth, “he'll land on his nose.”
They all sat down and began exchanging comments. I didn't listen because my mind was occupied. I was willing to chalk up for Wolfe a neat and well-timed swagger, and to admit that it got the desired results, but now what? Did he really have anything at all, and if so how much? It had better be fairly good. Cramer and Stebbins were not exactly ready to clasp our hands across the corpses, and as for O’Hara, I only hoped to God that when Wolfe called back he wouldn't tell me to slap the Deputy Commissioner on the back and tell him it had been just a prank and wasn't it fun? All in all, it was such a gloomy outlook that when the buzzer sounded and I reached for the phone I would just as soon have been somewhere else.
Wolfe's voice asked if they were still there and I said yes. He said to tell them that the announcement had been postponed and would not be broadcast at ten o'clock, and I did so. Then he asked for my report of the day's events.
Now?” I demanded. “On the phone?”
“Yes,” he said. “Concisely, but including all essentials. If there is a contradiction to demolish I must know it.”
Even with the suspicion gnawing at me that I had got roped in for a supporting role in an enormous bluff, I did enjoy it. It was a situation anyone would appreciate. There I was, in O’Hara's chair at his desk in his office, giving a detailed report to Wolfe of a murder I had witnessed and a police operation I had helped with, and for over half an hour those three bozos simply utterly had to sit and listen. Whatever position they might be in all too soon, all they could do now was take it and like it. I did enjoy it. Now and then Wolfe interrupted with a question, and when I had finished he took me back to fill in a few gaps. Then he proceeded to give me instructions, and as I listened it became apparent that if it was a bluff at least he wasn't going to leave me behind the enemy lines to fight my way out. I asked him to repeat it to make sure I had it straight. He did so.
“Okay,” I said. Tell Fritz I'm hungry.” I hung up and faced the three on chairs: