“Certainly not. For all I knew it’s classified.”
He grunted and told me to get Inspector Cramer. I dialed the number and had more trouble getting through than usual, finally had Cramer and signaled to Wolfe, and, since I got no sign to keep off, I stayed on. It wasn’t much of a conversation.
“Mr. Cramer? Nero Wolfe.”
“Yeah. What do you want?”
“I’m sorry I was busy last evening. It’s always a pleasure to see you. I’ve been engaged in the matter of Mr. Keyes’ death, and it will be to our mutual interest for you to let me have a little routine information.”
“Like what?”
“To begin with, the name and number of the mounted policeman who saw Mr. Keyes in the park at ten minutes past seven that morning. I want to send Archie—”
“Go to hell.” The connection went.
Wolfe hung up, reached for the beer tray which Fritz had brought in, and told me, “Get Mr. Skinner of the District Attorney’s office.”
I did so, and Wolfe got on again. In the past Skinner had had his share of moments of irritation with Wolfe, but at least he hadn’t had the door slammed in his face the preceding evening and therefore was not boorish. When he learned that Wolfe was on the Keyes case he wanted to know plenty, but Wolfe stiff-armed him without being too rude and soon had what he was after. Upon Wolfe’s assurance that he would keep Skinner posted on developments at his end, which they both knew was a barefaced lie, the Assistant D.A. even offered to ask headquarters to arrange for me to see the cop. And did so. In less than ten minutes after Wolfe and he were finished, a call came from Centre Street to tell me that Officer Hefferan would meet me at 11:45 at the corner of Sixty-sixth Street and Central Park West.
During the less than ten minutes, Wolfe had drunk beer, asked Saul about his family, and told me what I was expected to find out from the cop. That made me sore, but even more it made me curious. When we’re on a case it sometimes happens that Wolfe gets the notion that I have got involved on some angle or with some member of the cast, and that therefore it is necessary to switch me temporarily onto a siding. I had about given up wasting nervous energy resenting it. But what was it this time? I had bought nobody’s version and was absolutely fancy free, so why should he send me out to chew the rag with a cop and keep Saul and Orrie for more important errands? It was beyond me, and I was glaring at him and about to open up, when the phone rang again.
It was Ferdinand Pohl, asking for Wolfe. I was going to keep out of it, since the main attack was to be entrusted to others, but Wolfe motioned me to stay on.
“I’m at the Keyes office,” Pohl said, “Forty-seventh and Madison. Can you come up here right away?”
“Certainly not,” Wolfe said in a grieved tone. It always riled him that anybody in the world didn’t know that he never left his house on business, and rarely for anything whatever. “I work only at home. What’s the matter?”
“There’s someone here I want you to talk to. Two members of the staff. With their testimony I can prove that Talbott took those designs and sold them to Broadyke. This clinches it that it was Talbott who killed Keyes. Of us five, the only ones that could possibly be suspected were Miss Rooney and that stable hand, with that mutual alibi they had, and this clears her — and him too, of course.”
“Nonsense. It does nothing of the sort. It proves that she was unjustly accused of theft, and an unjust accusation rankles more than a just one. Now you can have Mr. Talbott charged with larceny, at least. I’m extremely busy. Thank you very much for calling. I shall need the cooperation of all of you.”
Pohl wanted to prolong it, but Wolfe got rid of him, drank more beer, and turned to me. “You’re expected there in twenty minutes, Archie, and considering your tendency to get arrested for speeding—”
I had had one ticket for speeding in eight years. I walked to the door but turned to remark bitterly, “If you think you’re just sending me out to play, try again. Who was the last to see Keyes alive? The cop. He did it. And who will I deliver him to — you? No. Inspector Cramer!”
VIII
It was sunny and warm for October, and the drive uptown would have been pleasant if I hadn’t been prejudiced by my feeling that I was being imposed on. Parking on Sixty-fifth Street, I walked around the corner and up a block, and crossed Central Park West to where a man in uniform was monkeying with his horse’s bridle. I have met a pack of guardians of the peace on my rounds, but this rugged manly face with a pushed-in nose and bright big eyes was new to me. I introduced myself and showed credentials and said it was nice of him, busy as he was, to give me his time. Of course that was a blunder, but I’ve admitted I was prejudiced.
“Oh,” he said, “one of our prominent kidders, huh?”
I made for cover. “About as prominent,” I declared, “as a fish egg in a bowl of caviar.”
“Oh, you eat caviar.”
“Goddam it,” I muttered, “let’s start over again.” I walked four paces to a lamp post, wheeled, returned to him, and announced, “My name’s Goodwin and I work for Nero Wolfe. Headquarters said I could ask you a couple of questions and I’d appreciate it.”
“Uh-huh. A friend of mine in the Fifteenth Squad has told me about you. You damn near got him sent to the marshes.”
“Then you were already prejudiced. So was I, but not against you. Not even against your horse. Speaking of horses, that morning you saw Keyes on his horse, not long before he was killed, what time was it?”
“Ten minutes past seven.”
“Within a minute or two?”
“Not within anything. Ten minutes past seven. I was on the early shift then, due to check out at eight. As you say, I’m so busy that I have no time, so I was hanging around expecting to see Keyes go by as per schedule. I liked to see his horse — a light chestnut with a fine spring to him.”
“How did the horse look that morning — same as usual? Happy and healthy?” Seeing the look on his face, I added hastily, “I’ve sworn off kidding until tomorrow. I actually want to know, was it his horse?”
“Certainly it was! Maybe you don’t know horses. I do.”
“Okay. I used to too, when I was a boy on a farm in Ohio, but we haven’t corresponded lately. What about Keyes that morning, did he look sick or well or mad or glad or what?”
“He looked as usual, nothing special.”
“Did you speak to each other?”
“No.”
“Had he shaved that morning?”
“Sure he had.” Officer Hefferan was controlling himself. “He had used two razors, one on the right side and another one on the left, and he wanted to know which one did the best job, so he asked me to rub his cheeks and tell him what I thought.”
“You said you didn’t speak.”
“Nuts.”
“I agree. Let’s keep this frankly hostile. I shouldn’t have asked about shaving, I should have come right out and asked what I want to know, how close were you to him?”
“Two hundred and seventy feet.”
“Oh, you’ve measured it?”
“I’ve paced it. The question came up.”
“Would you mind showing me the spot? Where he was and where you were?”
“Yes, I’d mind, but I’ve got orders.”
The courteous thing would have been for him to lead his horse and walk with me, so he didn’t do that. He mounted his big bay and rode into the park, with me tagging along behind; and not only that, he must have given it a private signal that they mustn’t be late. I never saw a horse walk so fast. He would have loved to lose me and blame it on me, or at least make me break into a trot, but I gave my legs the best stretch they had had in years, bending my elbows and pumping my lungs, and I wasn’t more than thirty paces in the rear when he finally came to a stop at the crest of a little knoll. There were a lot of trees, big and little, off to the right down the slope, and clumps of bushes were on the left, but in between there was a good view of a long stretch of the bridle path. It was almost at a right angle to our line of vision, and at its nearest looked about a hundred yards away.