Two.
Then they mean it. Okay, so do we. First, have a Coke or something to give me time to get a carsay, six or seven minutes. Then take a taxi to Two-fourteen East Twenty-eighth Street . The Perlman Paper Company is there on the ground floor. I spelled Perlman.Got that?
Yes.
Go in and ask for Abe and say to him, Archie wants some more candy. What are you going to say to him?
Archie wants some more candy.
Right. Hell take you on through to Twenty-seventh Street , and when you emerge Ill be there in front, either at the curb or double-parked, in a grey Heron sedan. Dont hand Abe anything, he wouldnt like it. This is part of our personalized service.
What if Abe isnt there?
He will be, but if he isnt dont mention candy to anyone else. Find a booth and ring Mr Wolfe.
I hung up, scribbled Laidlaw on my pad, tore the sheet off, and got up and handed it to Wolfe. He wants to see you quick, I said, and needs transportation. Ill be back with him in half an hour or less.
He nodded, crumpled the sheet, and dropped it in his wastebasket; and I wished the trio luck on their mother hunt and went.
At the garage, at the corner of Tenth Avenue , I used the three minutes while Hank was bringing the car down to go to the phone in the office and ring the Perlman Paper Company, and got Abe. He said he had been wondering when I would want more candy and would be glad to fill the order.
The de-tailing operation went fine, without a hitch. Going crosstown on Thirty-fourth Street, it was a temptation to swing down Park or Lexington to Twenty-eighth, so as to pass Number 214 and see if I recognized the two in the taxi, but since they might also recognize me I vetoed it and gave them plenty of room by continuing to Second Avenue before turning downtown, then west on Twenty-seventh. It was at the rear entrance on Twenty-seventh that the Perlman Paper Company did its loading and unloading, but no truck was there when I arrived, and I rolled to the curb at 2-49, just nineteen minutes since Laidlaw had phoned, and at 2.52 here he came trotting across the sidewalk. I opened the door and he piled in.
He looked upset. Relax, I told him as I fed gas. A tail is a trifle. They wont go in to ask about you for at least half an hour, if at all, and Abe will say he took you to the rear to show you some stock, and you left that way.
Its not the tail. I want to see Wolfe. His tone indicated that his plan was to get him down and tramp on him, so I left him to his mood. Crossing town, I considered whether there was enough of a chance that the brownstone was under surveillance to warrant taking him in the back way, trough the passage between buildings on Thirty-fourth Street , decided no, and went up Eighth Avenue to Thirty-fifth. As usual, there was no space open in front of the brownstone, so I went on to the garage and left the car, and walked back with him. When we entered the office I was at his heels. He didnt have the build to get Wolfes bulk down and trample on it without help, but after all, he was the only one of the bunch, as it stood then, who had had dealings with Faith Usher that might have produced a motive for murder, and if a man has once murdered you never know what hell do next.
He didnt move a finger. In fact, he didnt even move his tongue. He stood at the corner of Wolfes desk looking down at him, and after five seconds I realized that he was too mad, or too scared, or both, to speak, and I took his elbow and eased him to the red leather chair and into it.
Well, sir? Wolfe asked.
The client pushed his hair back, though he must have known by then that it was a waste of energy. I may be wrong, he croaked. I hope to God I am. Did you send a note to the District Attorney telling him that I am the father of Faith Ushers child?
No. Wolfes lips tightened. I did not.
Laidlaws head jerked to me. Did you?
No. Of course not.
Have you told anybody? Either of you?
Plainly, Wolfe said, you are distressed and so must be indulged. But nothing has happened to release either Mr Goodwin or me from our pledge of confidence. If and when it does you will first be notified. I suggest that you retire and cool off a little.
Cool off, hell. The client rubbed the chair arms with his palms, eyeing Wolfe. Then it wasnt you. All right. When I left here this morning I went to my office, and my secretary said the District Attorneys office had been trying to reach me, and I phoned and was told they wanted to see me immediately, and I went. I was taken in to Bowen, the District Attorney himself, and he asked if I wished to change my statement that I had never met Faith Usher before Tuesday evening, and I said no. Then he showed me a note that he said had come in the mail. It was typewritten. There wasnt any signature. It said, Have you found out yet that Edwin Laidlaw is the father of Faith Ushers baby? Ask him about his trip to Canada in August nineteen fifty-six . Bowen didnt let me take it. He held on to it. I sat and stared at it.
Wolfe grunted. It was worth a stare, even if it had been false. Did you collapse?
No! By God, I didnt! I dont think I decided what to do while I sat there staring at it; I think my subconscious mind had already decided what to do. Sitting there staring at it, I was too stunned to decide anything, so I must have already decided that the only thing to do was refuse to answer any questions about anything at all, and thats what I did. I said just one thing: that whoever sent that note had libelled me and I had a right to find out who it was, and to do that I would have to have the note, but of course they wouldnt give it to me. They wouldnt even give me a copy. They kept at me for two hours, and when I left I was followed.
You admitted nothing?
No.
Not even that you had taken a trip to Canada in August of nineteen fifty-six ?
No. I admitted nothing . I didnt answer a single question.
Satisfactory, Wolfe said. Highly satisfactory. This is indeed welcome, Mr Laidlaw. We have
Welcome! the client squawked. Welcome?
Certainly. We have at last goaded someone to action. I am gratified. If there was any small shadow of doubt that Miss Usher was murdered, this removes it. They have all claimed to have had no knowledge of Miss Usher prior to that party; one of them lied, he has been driven to move. True, it is still possible that you yourself are the culprit, but I now think it extremely improbable. I prefer to take it that the murderer has felt compelled to create a diversion, and that is most gratifying. Now he is doomed.
But good God! They know aboutabout me!
They know no more than they knew before. They get a dozen accusatory unsigned letters every day, and have learned that the charges in most of them are groundless. As for your refusal to answer questions, a man of your standing might be expected to take that position until he got legal advice. Its a neat situation, very neat. They will of course make every effort to find confirmation of that note, but it is a reasonable assumption that no one can supply it except the person who sent the note, and if he dares to do so well have him. Well challenge him, but well have him. He glanced up at the wall clock. However, we shall not merely twiddle our thumbs and wait for that. I have thirty minutes. You told me Wednesday morning that no one on earth knew of your dalliance with Miss Usher; now we know you were wrong. We must review every moment you spent in her company when you might have been seen or heard. When I leave, at four oclock, Mr Goodwin will continue with you. Start with the day she first attracted your notice, when she waited on you at Cordonis. Was anyone you knew present?
When Wolfe undertakes that sort of thing, getting someone to recall every detail of a past experience, he is worse than a housewife bent on finding a speck of dust that the maid overlooked. Once I sat for eight straight hours, from nine in the evening until daylight came, while he took a chauffeur over every second of a drive, made six months before, to New Haven and back. This time he wasnt quite that fussy, but he did no skipping. When four oclock came, time for him to go up and play with the orchids, he had covered the episode at Cordonis, two dinners, one at the Woodbine in Westchester and one at Henkes on Long Island, and a lunch at Gaydos on Sixty-ninth Street.