I am not going to report on the food because you would think I’m prejudiced. I honestly believe they put disinfectant in the oatmeal and the stew.
When footsteps stopped at my door at twenty minutes to six I was lying on the cot with my shoes off, wondering if Jessup still had company in his office. I admit the remains of the snack were a factor, but I was hungrier for news than for grub. The footsteps stopping was nothing; he often stopped to look in to see if I was sawing the bars or making a bomb, but when I heard the key in the lock I moved. I swung my legs around and sat up. The door opened and a man entered and said, “You’re takin’ a walk. Get your shoes on and bring your coat.”
It was Evers, the other full-time deputy. He stood and watched me put my shoes on, and my jacket, and when he told me not to leave anything and stooped to look under the cot I knew I wasn’t going upstairs. I was going out and not coming back. He didn’t have handcuffs, and on the way down the corridor, and then down the side hall of the courthouse, he didn’t care whether I was in front or behind. He opened the door of the sheriff’s office and thumbed me in. There was no one in the anteroom, and he opened the gate in the railing and jerked his head and said, “On in.” I crossed to the door to the inner room and entered, and he followed.
Haight was there at his desk, busy with papers. The eminent lawyer who looked more like a working ranchman, Luther Dawson, was standing with his back to Haight, looking at a big wall map of Montana. At sight of me he came with a hand out and a hearty welcome. “Well, greetings!” He had a good grip. “I come to deliver you from bondage. All signed and sealed.”
“Fine. Next time I’ll pick a better day than Saturday.” I pointed. “I believe that’s mine.” It was a pile of objects on a table. I went and retrieved my possessions, with Evers at my elbow. Everything was there, including the contents of the card case, which belongs in my breast pocket, and the non-negotiable items in the wallet, which goes in my pants pocket. As I picked up the last item, the ignition key of the station wagon, Evers said, “Sign this,” put a sheet of paper on the table, and offered a pen.
Dawson said, “Let me see it,” and stuck a hand between Evers and me to take it.
“No matter what it says,” I said, “I don’t sign it. I sign nothing.”
Dawson asked, “Were you given a receipt for those things when they took them? An itemized receipt?”
“No, and even if I was, I sign nothing.” I headed for the exit. I didn’t give Haight even a glance, but I have good side vision, and the corner of my eye noted that he was too busy with the papers to look up. Probably Wyatt Earp. There were footsteps behind me, presumably Dawson’s, and out in the hall he came abreast and said, “Miss Rowan’s out in front. In a car. I have something to say, Goodwin.”
I stopped and faced him. Our eyes were exactly on a level. “Not to me,” I said. “Ten days ago today, on Friday, August second, I told you that I thought a man named Sam Peacock might know something that would help, but he had clammed up on me, and probably a famous Montana lawyer like you could pry him loose. And you said you were too busy with important matters. Now nobody is going—”
“I didn’t say that. I said only—”
“I know what you said. Now nobody is going to pry him loose. And Harvey Greve didn’t kill him. So that’s another important matter. Have you talked with Nero Wolfe?”
“No. He refuses to see me. I intend to—”
“I don’t give a damn what you intend, but if my name is in your script anywhere, cross it out. I had to shake hands with you in there because there were witnesses.” I moved.
I thought that should make it clear that I wanted to be alone to enjoy my liberty, and it did. Going down the hall I heard no footsteps behind me. There were a few people scattered around in the big lobby and I heard someone say, “There’s that Archie Goodwin,” but I didn’t stop to take a bow. On the walk outside I sent my eyes left and right but didn’t see Lily until the second try because she was half a block away, in a dark blue Dodge Coronet sedan. Her attention was on something down the street in the other direction, and she heard me before she saw me. I opened the car door and said, “You don’t look a day older, let alone two days.”
She squinted at me. “You do.”
“I’m two years older. Are there any errands for us?”
“No. Get in.”
She was in front but not behind the wheel. “You’d better move to the back,” I said. “And open both windows. I don’t smell, I stink. I doubt if you can stand it.”
“I’ll breathe through my mouth. Let’s go.”
I circled around to the other side, got in, started the engine, backed out, and headed east. I asked if the car was a rental, and she said yes, the sheriff had the station wagon, and anyway she didn’t want it. She didn’t want a car a man had been killed in.
“I couldn’t ask Dawson what my price tag is,” I said, “because I was dressing him down. How much?”
“Does it matter?”
“It does to me. For the record. The lowest so far was five hundred, and the highest thirty grand. What am I worth to the people of the State of Montana?”
“Ten thousand dollars. Dawson said five thousand and Jessup said fifteen and the judge split the difference. They didn’t ask me.”
“What would you have made it?”
“Fifty million.”
“That’s the way to talk.” I patted her knee.
We were in the open country. For a mile or so I played on the gas pedal to test the engine, and it was okay. Lily asked, “Aren’t you going to ask me any questions?”
“Yeah, plenty, but not between bumps. There’s a spot not far ahead.”
It was just beyond a gully, where the road went north for a stretch, with a stand of lodgepole on the left. I slowed and eased off of the blacktop into the shade the trees gave from the slanting sun, stopped, killed the engine, and twisted around to face her. “For two days and a night,” I said, “I’ve been wanting to ask people certain questions, and this is my first chance, so I’ll start with you. When I left the dance floor Saturday night about a quarter past eleven, soon after Sam Peacock arrived, you were dancing with Woody, Farnham had Mrs. Amory, DuBois had a woman in a black dress, and Wade had a girl I had seen before but can’t name. Did you see Peacock at all?”
“I saw him twice from a distance. Later I looked around but didn’t see him, and I didn’t see you either. I supposed you had taken him in to Nero Wolfe.”
“I hadn’t. With Haight and Welch there, we decided to skip it. Now this is important. After you danced with Woody, did you see Peacock talking with anyone you know?”
“No.” She frowned. “I only saw him from a distance, and I don’t... No.”
“Did you see anyone you know leave the dance floor? Go out to the Gallery?”
“If I did, I didn’t notice. No.”
“As I said, it’s important. It’s crucial. As you know, people often see something and don’t know they’re seeing it. If you’ll sit down, or lie down is better, and shut your eyes, and go over everything you saw and did, starting from when you were dancing with Woody, you might come up with something. Will you give it a try?”
“I doubt — but I’ll try, of course.”
“Okay. Now some things that you are aware of, but first a word of stomach-felt appreciation. You don’t like to give or receive thanks for things that should be taken for granted, and neither do I, but there’s a limit. Six bananas. A whole pie. The best caviar and the best pâté. And calling it a snack was false modesty deluxe. But you saved my life.”