“It isn’t merely a belief. It’s a conclusion based on evidence.”
“Evidence secured by Mr. Haight. I charge Mr. Haight with nonfeasance amounting to malfeasance. He has an animus for Mr. Greve. Having gathered, as he thinks, enough evidence against Mr. Greve to make a case, he has made no effort whatever to explore other possibilities. There were fifteen other people within walking distance of that spot that Thursday afternoon, all of whom had had previous contact with Mr. Brodell, and Mr. Haight has virtually ignored them. I am not—”
“Can you support that?”
“I can,” I said. “They won’t open up about Brodell or murder, but they will about Haight. Ask them.”
“I am not including Mr. Greve’s wife and daughter,” Wolfe said, “because Mr. Goodwin and I have eliminated them on evidence that convinces us, though it wouldn’t convince you. Nor would you accept as decisive the evidence that has persuaded us that Mr. Greve is innocent, but that doesn’t matter because what we want, all we want, is an opportunity to inquire effectively. It’s conceivable that no evidence exists that will clear Mr. Greve, but we assert our right to try to find some. In order to—”
“I don’t challenge that right. No one does. Go ahead.”
“Pfui. That’s twaddle and you know it. You might as well tell a man with no legs that you don’t challenge his right to walk. What I ask, what Mr. Goodwin and I expect, is active support of that right. We can’t get it from Mr. Haight, as you know, but we hope to get it from you. I have been told that in Montana a county attorney proceeds mostly on information supplied by the sheriff and the state police, but that he frequently investigates independently — himself, or members of his staff, or if necessary special investigators chosen by him. Mr. Goodwin and I want to investigate the Greve case for you. We want credentials. We are professionally qualified. We would not expect or accept any pay or reimbursement for expenses.”
“I see.” Jessup looked at me, saw only an open and manly phiz, ready to help, and went back to Wolfe. “That’s it, huh? Mr. Veale suggested it?”
“No, I did. Presumably he thought it reasonable, or he wouldn’t have asked you to see me. The purpose is obvious. Accredited by you, we would not be mere bumptious interlopers from outside — far outside. We would be seen and heard, and we could insist on answers to questions.”
Jessup smiled, decided it rated better than that, and laughed — a hearty open-mouth laugh that would have been objectionable if it had been aimed at us, but it wasn’t. If I had been sure it was for Sheriff Haight I would have joined in, but that was only a guess.
He eyed Wolfe. “This needs consideration.”
Wolfe nodded. “And deserves it.”
“I don’t know if you realize the potential impact on me, on my — career. Any resentment you caused would be for you only temporarily, for me permanently. I would be—”
“Also any plaudits we earned would be for you permanently.”
“Yes, if you earned any. I would be risking my future on your — uh — conduct. Obviously you hope to clear Greve, and on the evidence in hand you can’t possibly prove that he’s innocent unless you prove that someone else is guilty. Who?”
“I have no idea, and neither has Mr. Goodwin. We haven’t even a specific suspicion. We have only our firm conclusion, on grounds that satisfy us but wouldn’t satisfy you, that Mr. Greve is innocent, and we intend to demonstrate it.”
“Even if I don’t ‘cooperate’?”
“Yes. If you won’t give us a footing I think Mr. Veale might, but if not, we’ll still have two advantages: Miss Rowan’s financial resources and our competence as investigators. It might take months, even years, but we’re committed by our resolution and self-esteem.”
“Did Mr. Veale tell you that he would cooperate if I didn’t?”
“No. He said he could, but not that he would.”
“Then you threaten me.”
“Mr. Jessup. You can’t condemn an intention just by calling it a threat.”
“No, but some intentions are threats. I was advised to make sure I know what your word is. You said, I quote, ‘We haven’t even a specific suspicion.’ I’ll specify. Do you suspect Gilbert Haight?”
“Only generally, along with others. He had a motive, but he has an alibi, apparently sound. Mr. Goodwin’s attempts to test it have been futile, like all his other attempts. You said you would be risking your future on our conduct; you’re risking it now on the conduct of Mr. Haight. What if you proceed on the evidence he has supplied, and try Mr. Greve and convict him, and a month later, or a year later, we produce evidence that establishes his innocence?”
Jessup straightened around in the seat, facing front, stretched his legs as far as there was room for, and stared at the dash. I have a theory about that kind of stare in such a situation: the fewer the blinks, the harder the thinking. If it’s as little as three or four blinks a minute he’s thinking as hard as his brain can manage, and Jessup blinked only eleven times in three minutes. Then they began to come faster, and he was back to normal when he turned around again to face Wolfe.
“I’ll tell you something,” he said. “You said I might have cooperated even without a request from Mr. Veale. I concur. I might have. By God, I think I would. But your coming at me through him gives it a slant I don’t like, and I want to consider it. I want to confer on it with someone, and I’ll let you know.”
Wolfe was frowning. “Not, I trust, with Mr. Haight.”
“Of course not. With the one person whose interests are always identical with mine. My wife. You’ll hear from me soon.”
“The sooner the better.”
Jessup nodded. “Probably this evening. Where can I reach you? At Miss Rowan’s?”
Wolfe, still frowning, said yes, and Jessup opened the door and got out, went to his car, and got in. When he backed at an angle to turn around, a log stopped him and he had to maneuver. That’s why I always park facing out; I like a clean quick exit, aside from the fact that sometimes the situation demands it. As the Ford went jolting along the gulch rim I said, “So now it depends on a woman.”
“He’s an ass,” Wolfe growled. “There are no two people alive whose interests are always identical.”
“Yeah, a lawyer should know better. Also he’s a damn liar. Without the Veale slant he wouldn’t even have given you a nod, let alone come to Whedon’s Graveyard to meet you.” I turned the key and the engine took, and we moved. In three minutes it would be six o’clock, so I was glad I had phoned Lily. As we reached the blacktop I asked him whether he would rather go slow for the bumps, which would prolong it, or take them as they came and get it over with, but got no reply but a glare.
When we were about a mile from Lame Horse he suddenly spoke. “Stop the car.”
His voice was louder than necessary, close to a shout, but it always was in a moving vehicle. Also no “please,” but it was no time or place for etiquette. I slowed, eased off of the blacktop, set the brake, and said, “Yes?”
“Will Mr. Stepanian’s telephone be available at this hour?”
“Probably. He has living quarters in the back.”
“If it is, get Saul. What time is it in New York?”
“Eight o’clock. A little after. He’ll be at home. Thursday’s poker night.”
“Get him. I don’t like the possibility, however remote, that we are at table three times a day with a murderer, and for this we don’t need credentials. Tell him we want to know if there was any contact between Miss Kadany or Mr. Worthy and Mr. Brodell during his visits to New York. Can you get pictures to send him — covertly?”
“Possibly, but I doubt if I need to. She’s an actress, and he’ll have no trouble getting pictures of her. For Worthy, his publisher will almost certainly have some. Perhaps I should ring Miss Rowan first and tell her.”