“How did you learn it?”
There was no telling how many sources the Secret Service had around town, so I abandoned the cop on the beat. “From a friend of mine on a newspaper. When she didn’t show I wondered if something had happened to her, and I phoned him.”
“She’s dead,” he said. “We can’t ask her what she told you.”
“That’s right. I could be lying to Yonkers and back, but I’m not. I only lie to cops and women. I wouldn’t dream of lying to you.”
“I wouldn’t advise you to. You just came in. Were you out on another errand?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
The natural thing would have been to say it was none of his business. But apparently they had tailed Hattie Annis to Wolfe’s place, and if so, they might have tailed me to 47th Street, and I was being frank and open. So I said, “Looking into possibilities. Hattie Annis had said she had something that was good for a reward. It could have been something really worth while; you never know. And she had been killed. It wouldn’t hurt to poke around a little, and I went up to her house on Forty-seventh Street to see if I could stir up something. I had barely got started when a Homicide sergeant came and took over. I beat it and came home — and found you.”
“You admit that she said she was in possession of something that was good for a reward.”
“I state it.”
“But you deny that she told you it was counterfeit money?”
“I do.”
“Do you deny that from what she said you inferred it was counterfeit money?”
“I do. On my way from the bank I decided it was the Hope diamond.”
“Why?”
“Because I knew you’d be asking and I thought that would be an interesting twist. You would be thinking she had counterfeits, but the point was that she had the real thing. The counterfeit was in the Smithsonian Institution.”
I don’t expect you to believe it, but he actually said, “So you admit that you knew we would be asking?”
“By gum,” I said, “I guess you’ve got me. I wonder how I knew?”
Wolfe grunted. “Archie. If you must chaff him, take him somewhere else.”
Leach got up. “I’ll do the taking. If you’re telling the truth, both of you, all right. If not, you’ll regret it.” He turned and went. I arose and stepped to the hall and offered to hold his coat, but he preferred to do it himself.
As I reentered the office Wolfe demanded, “Was that where you were? That woman’s house?”
“Yes, sir.” I went to my desk and sat. “I wouldn’t lie to a T-man. Too risky.”
“And a policeman came?”
“Yes, sir. Stebbins.”
“You have a remarkable talent for getting involved to no purpose. You know quite well how Mr. Cramer will react when he learns that Mr. Stebbins, investigating a death by violence, found you there ahead of him.”
“Yeah. That’s the least of my worries. I’ve got a problem. I’ll have to take a week off — of course without pay — while I work it out. Beginning now.”
“Pfui.” His eyes narrowed. “What are you trying to badger me into?”
“No, sir. It’s my problem. You wouldn’t be interested.”
“What is it?”
“Well.” I considered. “Since I got it on your premises while in your employ I suppose you have a right to know. I have to figure out what to do with nine thousand dollars in counterfeit money that’s upstairs in my room.”
He snorted. “The Hope diamond, too, of course.”
“No, this is straight. Everything I told Leach was true, but I didn’t mention that Hattie Annis gave me a package to keep until she returned. She told me not to open it and I didn’t, until I learned that she had been killed. Then I took a look. About nine thousand bucks in phony twenty-dollar bills, brand new. They’re pretty good; I had to use a glass on them to be sure. I took them up and put them in my shirt drawer. Then I went up to her house to see if I could spot a counterfeiter, and got interrupted by Stebbins.”
“Why didn’t you mention it to that donkey? And give him the package?”
I eyed him. “Do you really want me to answer that?”
He pulled at the tip of his ear. “No.”
“I should hope not. That specimen? If I had given him the package and told him I didn’t know what was in it he wouldn’t have believed me. He would have taken both of us on a charge of possession. It’s a good guess that they had a tail on her, or how did he know she came here? If so, it’s barely possible the tail saw her hand me the package, and he’ll be back with reinforcements and a search warrant. I’m going to get it out of the house, right now, and I’m going to leave the back way.”
“Do so. At once. Don’t mail it to him or his organization. Mail it to the police.”
“No, sir. As I said, I’m taking a week off. I hope a week will do it.”
“Nonsense.” He glared. “I am instructing you to mail it. Without delay.”
“Sorry.” I stood up. “It’s my problem. First I’ll take the package somewhere and come back later for some things. I’ll let you know where you can reach me.” I moved.
“Archie!”
I turned. “Yes, sir?”
“This is not to be borne. If you go, stay.”
I stood facing him. “Okay. I’ll bang the door when I leave, since I’m fired. But I’d like to describe the situation, not that you give a damn, just for the record. Hattie Annis may have got killed just because she happened to be there when a baboon came along in a stolen car, but she may not. I think not, for fairly good reasons. If it was deliberate, it’s a good guess that she got it because she knew where that counterfeit money came from, so it will be essential evidence if and when he is tagged. Not only will it have to be produced; it will have to be shown that she had it. If I ditch it by mailing it to the police or the Secret Service, no matter who, so it can’t be traced, it can’t be connected with her and he can’t be nailed. That’s my problem. She left the package with me. If she was murdered on account of it, I don’t owe the murderer any favors and I’m not going to do him one.”
I turned and marched out, chin up, with my ego patting me on the back, and mounted the stairs to my room. Getting the package from the drawer, touching nothing but the string, I went back down to the hall for my coat and hat, and, after I had my gloves on, stuck the package in my pocket. As I neared the office door on my way to the kitchen Wolfe’s voice came:
“Archie!”
I stuck my head in. “Yes, sir?”
“You will dine here?”
“No. Fire me and feed me? Better not. I’ll come and get some clothes and things.”
“Very well.”
I admit that as I passed through the kitchen and saw Fritz at the range basting two tender young pheasants in the roaster I felt a twinge. I also admit that as I let myself out, crossed the little enclosed space where Fritz grew herbs in the season, and unlocked the gate, I felt another twinge of a different kind. It was just possible that the Treasury Department knew of this back way and had it covered, and missing the pheasant would be the least of my troubles if I got nabbed with that package on me. The passage between two buildings was narrow and dark, and eddies of snow were whirling down. Emerging to the sidewalk on 34th Street, I turned left.
Making sure you are unattended is never difficult, and on a snowy blowy night there’s nothing to it. Turning three corners was enough, and I leaned into the wind and forgot the rear. But at the entrance to Grand Central Station I stood a couple of minutes with my eyes open before going to the ramp and on down to a bank of lockers. Five seconds later, minus a dime and the package and plus a key, I proceeded to the tunnel to 45th Street, climbed the stairs, and was in the snow again for six blocks. The clerk at the Churchill wouldn’t admit he had a room, so I went to the manager’s office and asked for a man I don’t need to name for whom I had once done an important favor. He came through, both with a room and with an envelope. I wrote on the envelope, “Property of Archie Goodwin, to be delivered only to him in person,” put the key in it and sealed it, and left it with the assistant manager. I then went down to the Tulip Bar, having in mind a modest snack in the neighborhood of three bucks, and saw on the menu “Suprême of Pheasant Berchoux......$9.00.” Of course I had to, though Berchoux was a complete stranger. It turned out to be okay, but the sauce wasn’t up to Fritz’s by a long shot.