Does anyone object?”
It was pitiful. They were in no condition to object, even if he had announced his intention of having clusters of Meltettes tattooed on their chests. Nobody made a sound except Nancylee, who merely shrilled: “Oh, I never!”
I crossed my legs and prepared to sit it out. And so I did, up to a point.
Purley and Rowcliff took Tully Strong first. Soon the female dick appeared and got Elinor Vance. Evidently they were being thorough, for it was a good eight minutes before Purley came back with Strong and took Bill Meadows, and the lady took just as long with Elinor Vance. The last two on the list were Nancylee in one direction and Nat Traub in the other.
That is, they were the last two as I had it. But when Rowcliff and Purley returned with Traub and handed Cramer some slips of paper, O’Hara barked at them: “What about Goodwin?”
“Oh, him?” Rowcliff asked.
“Certainly him! He was here, wasn't he?”
Rowcliff looked at Cramer. Cramer looked at me.
I grinned at O’Hara. “What if I object, Commissioner?”
“Try it! That won't help you any!”
“The hell it won't It will either preserve my dignity or start a string of firecrackers. What do you want to bet my big brother can't lick your big brother?”
He took a step toward me. “You resist, do you?”
“You're damn' right I do.” My hand did a half-circle. “Before twenty witnesses.”
He wheeled. “Send him down, Inspector. To my office. Charge him. Then have him searched.”
“Yes, sir.” Cramer was frowning. “First, would you mind stepping into another room with me? Perhaps I haven't fully explained the situation-”
“I understand it perfectly! Wolfe has co-operated, so you say-to what purpose?
What has happened? Another murder! Wolfe has got you all buffaloed, and I'm sick and tired of it! Take him to my office!”
“No one has got me buffaloed,” Cramer rasped. “Take him, Purley. I'll phone about a charge.”
Chapter Twenty-Three There were two things I liked about Deputy Commissioner O’Hara's office. First, it was there that I had been clever on a previous occasion, and therefore it aroused agreeable memories, and second, I like nice surroundings and it was the most attractive room at Centre Street, being on a corner with six large windows, and furnished with chairs and rugs and other items which had been paid for by O’Hara's rich wife.
I sat at ease in one of the comfortable chairs. The contents of my pockets were stacked in a neat pile on a corner of O’Hara's big shiny mahogany desk, except for one item which Purley Stebbins had in his paw. Purley was so mad his face was a red sunset, and he was stuttering.
“Don't be a g-goddam fool,” he exhorted me. “If you clam it with O’Hara when he gets here he'll jug you sure as hell, and it's after six o'clock so where'll you spend the night?” He shook his paw at me, the one holding the item taken from my pocket. “Tell me about this!”
I shook my head firmly. “You know, Purley,” I said without rancour, “this is pretty damn' ironic. You frisked that bunch of suspects and got nothing at all-I could tell that from the way you and Rowcliff looked. But on me, absolutely innocent of wrongdoing, you find what you think is an incriminating document. So here I am, sunk, facing God knows what kind of doom. I try to catch a glimpse of the future, and what do I see?”
“Oh, shut up!”
“No, I've got to talk to someone.” I glanced at my wrist. “As you say, it's after six o'clock. Mr Wolfe has come down from the plant rooms, expecting to find me awaiting him in the office, ready for my report of the day's events.
He'll be disappointed. You know how he'll feel. Better still, you know what he'll do. He'll be so frantic he'll start looking up numbers and dialling them himself. I am offering ten to one that he has already called the Fraser apartment and spoken to Cramer. How much of it do you want? A dime? A buck?”
“Can it, you goddam ape.” Purley was resigning. “Save it for O’Hara, he'll be here pretty soon. I hope they give you a cell with bedbugs.”
“I would prefer,” I said courteously, “to chat.”
“Then chat about this.”
“No. For the hundredth time, no. I detest anonymous letters and I don't like to talk about them.”
He went to a chair and sat facing me. I got up, crossed to bookshelves, selected Crime and Criminals, by Mercier, and returned to my seat with it.
Purley had been wrong. O’Hara was not there pretty soon. When I glanced at my wrist every ten minutes or so I did it on the sly because I didn't want Purley to think I was getting impatient. It was a little past seven when I looked up from my book at the sound of a buzzer. Purley went to a phone on the desk and had a talk with it. He hung up, returned to his chair, sat, and after a moment spoke: “That was the Deputy Commissioner. He is going to have his dinner. I'm to keep you here till he comes.”
“Good,” I said approvingly. “This is a fascinating book.”
“He thinks you're boiling. You bastard.”
I shrugged.
I kept my temper perfectly for another hour or more, and then, still there with my book, I became aware that I was starting to lose control. The trouble was that I had begun to feel hungry, and that was making me sore. Then there was another factor: what the hell was Wolfe doing? That, I admit, was unreasonable.
Any phoning he did would be to Cramer or O’Hara, or possibly someone at the DA's office, and with me cooped up as I was I wouldn't hear even an echo. If he had learned where I was and tried to get me, they wouldn't have put him through, since Purley had orders from O’Hara that I was to make no calls. But what wj,th feeling hungry and getting no word from the outside world, I became aware that I was beginning to be offended, and that would not do. I forced my mind away from food and other aggravating aspects, including the number of revolutions the minute hand of my watch had made, and turned another page.
It was ten minutes to nine when the door opened and O’Hara and Cramer walked in.
Purley stood up. I was in the middle of a paragraph and so merely flicked one eye enough to see who it was. O’Hara hung his hat and coat on a rack, and Cramer dropped his on a chair. O’Hara strode to his desk, crossing my bow so close that I could easily have tripped him by stretching a leg.
Cramer looked tired. Without spending a glance on me he nodded at Purley.
“Has he opened up?”
“No, sir. Here it is.” Purley handed him the item.
They had both had it read to them on the phone, but they wanted to see it.
Cramer read it through twice and then handed it to O’Hara. While that was going on I went to the shelves and replaced the book, had a good stretch and yawn, and returned to my chair.
Cramer glared down at me. “What have you got to say?”
“More of the same,” I told him. “I've explained to the sergeant, who has had nothing to eat, by the way, that that thing has no connection whatever with any murder or any other crime, and therefore questions about it are out of order.”
“You've been charged as a material witness.”
“Yeah, I know, Purley showed it to me. Why don't you ask Mr Wolfe? He might be feeling generous.”
“The hell he might. We have. Look, Goodwin-”
“I'll handle him, Inspector.” O’Hara speaking. He was an energetic cuss. He had gone clear around his desk to sit down, but now he arose and came clear around it again to confront me. I looked up at him inquiringly, not a bit angry.
He was trying to control himself. “You can't possibly get away with it,” he stated. “It's incredible that you have the gall to try it, both you and Wolfe.
Anonymous letters are a central factor in this case, a vital factor. You went up to that apartment today to see those people, and you had in your pocket an anonymous letter about one of them, practically accusing her of murder. Do you mean to tell me that you take the position that that letter has no connection with the crimes under investigation?”
“I sure do. Evidently Mr Wolfe does too.” I made a gesture. “Corroboration.”
“You take and maintain that position while aware of the penalty that may be imposed upon conviction for an obstruction of justice?”