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“You are Mr. Lamont Otis?”

“I am.”

“I owe you an apology. A weak word; there should be a better one. A valued and trusted employee of yours has died by violence under my roof. She was valued and trusted?”

“Yes.”

“I deeply regret it. If you came to reproach me, proceed.”

“I didn’t come to reproach you.” The lines of Otis’s face were furrows in the better light. “I came to find out what happened. The police and the District Attorney’s office have told me how she was killed, but not why she was here. I think they know but are reserving it. I think I have a right to know. Bertha Aaron had been in my confidence for years, and I believe I was in hers, and I knew nothing of any trouble she might be in that would lead her to come to you. Why was she here?”

Wolfe, rubbing his nose with a fingertip, regarded him. “How old are you, Mr. Otis?”

Ann Paige made a noise. The veteran lawyer, who had probably objected to ten thousand questions as irrelevant, said merely, “I’m seventy-five. Why?”

“I do not intend to have another death in my office to apologize for, this time induced by me. Miss Aaron told Mr. Goodwin that the reason she did not go to you with her problem was that she feared the effect on you. Her words, Archie?”

I supplied them. “‘He has a bad heart and it might kill him.’”

Otis snorted. “Bosh! My heart has given me a little trouble and I’ve had to slow down, but it would take more than a problem to kill me. I’ve been dealing with problems all my life, some pretty tough ones.”

“She exaggerated it,” Ann Paige said. “I mean Miss Aaron. I mean she was so devoted to Mr. Otis that she had an exaggerated idea about his heart condition.”

“Why did you come here with him?” Wolfe demanded.

“Not because of his heart. Because I was at his apartment, working with him on a brief, when the news came about Bertha, and when he decided to see you he asked me to come with him. I do shorthand.”

“You heard Mr. Goodwin quote Miss Aaron. If I tell Mr. Otis what she was afraid to tell him, what her problem was, will you take responsibility for the effect on him?”

Otis exploded. “Damn it, I take the responsibility! It’s my heart!”

“I doubt,” Ann Paige said, “if the effect of telling him would be as bad as the effect of not telling him. I take no responsibility, but you have me as a witness that he insisted.”

“I not only insist,” Otis said. “I assert my right to the information, since it must have concerned me.”

“Very well,” Wolfe said. “Miss Aaron arrived here at twenty minutes past five this afternoon — now yesterday afternoon — uninvited and unexpected. She spoke for some twenty minutes with Mr. Goodwin and he went upstairs to confer with me. He was away half an hour. She was alone on this floor. You know what greeted him when he returned. He has given the police a statement which includes his conversation with her.” His head turned. “Archie, give Mr. Otis a copy of the statement.”

I got it from my desk drawer and went and handed it to him. I had a notion to stand by, in case Bertha Aaron had been right about the effect it would have on him and he crumpled, but from up there I couldn’t see his face, so I returned to my chair; but after half a century of practicing law his face knew how to behave. All that happened was that his jaw tightened a little, and once a muscle twitched at the side of his neck. He read it clear through twice, first fast and then taking his time. When he had finished he folded it neatly, fumbling a little, and was putting it in the breast pocket of his jacket.

“No,” Wolfe said emphatically. “I disclose the information at my discretion, but that’s a copy of a statement given the police. You can’t have it.”

Otis ignored him. He looked at his associate, and his neck muscle twitched again. “I shouldn’t have brought you, Ann,” he said. “You’ll have to leave.”

Her eyes met his. “Believe me, Mr. Otis, you can trust me. On anything. Believe me. If it’s that bad you shouldn’t be alone with it.”

“I must be. I couldn’t trust you on this. You’ll have to leave.”

I stood up. “You can wait in the front room, Miss Paige. The wall and door are soundproofed.”

She didn’t like it, but she came. I opened the door to the front room and turned the lights on, and then went and locked the door to the hall and put the key in my pocket. Back in the office as I was crossing to my desk Otis asked, “How good is the soundproofing?”

“Good for anything under a loud yell,” I told him.

He focused on Wolfe. “I am not surprised,” he said, “that Miss Aaron thought it would kill me. I am surprised that it hasn’t. You say the police have this statement?”

“Yes. And this conversation is ended unless you return that copy. Mr. Goodwin has no corroboration. It is a dangerous document for him to sign except under constraint of police authority.”

“But I need—”

“Archie. Get it.”

I stood up. The heart was certainly getting tested. But as I took a step his hand went to his pocket, and when I reached him he had it out and handed it over.

“That’s better,” Wolfe said. “I have extended my apology and regret, and we have given you all the information we have. I add this: first, that nothing in that statement will be revealed to anyone by Mr. Goodwin or me without your consent; and second, that my self-esteem has been severely injured and it would give me great satisfaction to expose the murderer. Granted that that’s a job for the police, for me it is my job. I would welcome your help, not as my client; I would accept no fee. I realize that at the moment you are under shock, that you are overwhelmed by the disaster in prospect for the firm you head; and when your mind clears you may be tempted by the possibility of minimizing the damage by dealing with your intramural treachery yourself, and letting the culprit escape his doom. If you went about it with sufficient resourcefulness and ingenuity it is conceivable that the police could be cheated of their prey, but not that I could be.”

“You are making a wholly unwarranted assumption,” Otis said.

“I am not making an assumption. I am merely telling you my intention. The police hypothesis, and mine, is the obvious one: that a member of your firm killed Miss Aaron. Though the law does not insist that the testimony against him in court must include proof of his motive, inevitably it would. Will you assert that you won’t try to prevent that? That you will not regard the reputation of your firm as your prime concern?”

Otis opened his mouth and closed it again.

Wolfe nodded. “I thought not. Then I advise you to help me. If you do, I’ll have two objectives, to get the murderer and to see that your firm suffers as little as possible; if you don’t, I’ll have only one. As for the police, I doubt if they’ll expect you to cooperate, since they are not nincompoops. They will realize that you have a deeper interest than the satisfaction of justice. Well, sir?”

Otis’s palms were cupping his knees and his head was tilted forward so he could study the back of his left hand. His eyes shifted to his right hand, and when that too had been properly studied he lifted his head and spoke. “You used the word ‘hypothesis,’ and that’s all it is, that a member of my firm killed Miss Aaron. How did he know she was here? She said that nobody knew.”

“He could have followed her. Evidently she left your office soon after she talked with him. Archie?”

“She probably walked,” I said. “Between fifteen and twenty-five minutes, depending on her rate. At that time of day empty taxis are scarce, and crosstown they crawl. It would have been a cinch to tail her on foot.”