I told him no, that I had been caught midtown with a stubble and an unforeseen errand for which I should be presentable, and added, “You seem to have had some excitement.”
He went to the cabinet for a tube of prefabricated lather, got some on me, started rubbing. “We sure did,” he said with feeling. “Carl — you know Carl — he killed a man in Tina’s booth. Then they both ran. I’m sorry for Tina — she was all right — but Carl— I don’t know.”
I couldn’t articulate with him rubbing. He finished, went to wipe his fingers, and came with the razor. I remarked, “I’d sort of watch it, Ed. It’s a little risky to go blabbing that Carl killed him unless you can prove it.”
“Well, what did he run for?”
“I couldn’t say. But the cops are still poking around here.”
“Sure, they are; they’re after evidence. You gotta have evidence.” Ed pulled the skin tight over the jawbone. “For instance, they ask me did he show me anything or ask me anything about some article from the shop. I say he didn’t. That would be evidence, see?”
“Yes, I get it.” I could only mumble. “What did he ask you?”
“Oh, all about me — name, married or single, you know, insurance men, income tax, they all ask the same things. But when he asked about last night I told him where to get off, but then I thought, why not? And I told him.
“Of course,” he said, “the police have to get it straight, but they can’t expect us to remember everything. When he came in, first he talked with Fickler, maybe five minutes. Then Fickler took him to Tina’s booth and he talked with Tina. After that Fickler sent Philip in, and then Carl and then Jimmie, and then Tom and then me, and then Janet. I think it’s pretty good to remember that.”
I mumbled agreement. He was at the corner of my mouth.
“But I can’t remember everything and they can’t make me. I don’t know how long it was after Janet came back out before Fickler went to Tina’s booth and found him dead. They ask me was it nearer ten minutes or nearer fifteen, but I say I had a customer at the time, we all did but Philip, and I don’t know. They ask me how many of us went behind the partition after Janet came out, to the steamer or the vat or to get the lamp or something, but I say again I had a customer at the time, and I don’t know, except I know I didn’t go because I was trimming Mr. Howell at the time. I was working the top when Fickler yelled and came running out. They can ask Mr. Howell.”
“They probably have,” I said, but to no one, because Ed had gone for a hot towel.
He returned, and used the towel, and got the lilac water. Patting it on, he resumed, “They ask me exact when Carl and Tina went, they ask me that twenty times, but I can’t say and I won’t say. Carl did it, all right, but they can’t prove it by me. They’ve gotta have evidence, but I don’t. Cold towel today?”
“No, I’ll keep the smell.”
He brought a comb and brush. “Can I remember what I don’t know?” he demanded.
“I know I can’t.”
“And I’m no great detective like you.” Ed was a little rough with a brush. “And now I go for lunch but I’ve got to have a cop along. They searched all of us down to the skin, and they even brought a woman to search Janet. They took our fingerprints. I admit they’ve gotta have evidence.” He flipped the bib off. “How was the razor, all right?”
I told him it was fine as usual, stepped down, fished for a quarter, and exchanged it for my check. Purley Stebbins, nearby, was watching both of us. There had been times when I had seen fit to kid Purley at the scene of a murder, but not now. A cop had been killed.
He spoke, not belligerently: “The inspector don’t like your being here.”
“Neither do I,” I declared. “Fortunately, this didn’t happen to be Mr. Wolfe’s day for a haircut; you would never have believed. I’m just a minor coincidence. Nice to see you.”
I went and paid my check to Fickler, got my things on, and departed.
As I emerged into Lexington Avenue there were several things on my mind. The most immediate was this: If Cramer’s suspicion had been aroused enough to spend a man on me, and if I were seen going directly home from the shop, there might be too much curiosity as to why I had chosen to spend six bits for a shave at that time of day. So, instead of taking a taxi, I walked, and when I got to a five-and-ten I used their aisles and exits to make sure I had no tail. That left my mind free for other things the rest of the way home.
One leading question was whether Carl and Tina would still be where I had left them, in the front room. That was what took me up the seven steps of the stoop two at a time, and on in quick. The answer to the question was no. The front room was empty. I strode down the hall to the office, but stopped there because I heard Wolfe’s voice. It was coming from the dining room, and it was saying:
“No, Mr. Vardas, I cannot agree that mountain climbing is merely one manifestation of man’s spiritual aspirations. I think, instead, it is an hysterical paroxysm of his infantile vanity. One of the prime ambitions of a jackass is to bray louder than any other jackass, and man is not...”
I crossed the hall and the dining-room sill. Wolfe was at his end of the table, and Fritz, standing at his elbow, had just removed the lid from a steaming platter. At his left was Tina, and Carl was at his right, my place when there was no company. Wolfe saw me but finished his lecture on mountain climbing before attending to me: “In time, Archie. You like veal and mushrooms.”
Talk about infantile. His not being willing to sit down to his lunch with unfed people in the house was all well enough, but why not send trays in to them? That was easy. He was sore at me and I had called them foreigners.
I stepped to the end of the table and said, “I know you have a paroxysm if I try to bring up business during meals, but eighteen thousand cops would give a month’s pay to get their hands on Carl and Tina, your guests.”
“Indeed.” Wolfe was serving the veal and accessories. “Why?”
“Have you talked with them?”
“No. I merely invited them to lunch.”
“Then don’t until I’ve reported. I ran into Cramer and Stebbins at the barbershop.”
“Confound it.” The serving spoon stopped en route.
“Yeah. It’s quite interesting. But first lunch, of course. I’ll go put the chain bolt on. Please dish me some veal.”
Carl and Tina were speechless.
That lunch was one of Wolfe’s best performances, I admit it. He didn’t know a thing about Carl and Tina except that they were in a jam, he knew that Cramer and Stebbins dealt only with homicide, and he had a strong prejudice against entertaining murderers at his table. His only hope now was his knowledge that I was aware of his prejudice, and even shared it.
He must have been fairly tight inside, but he stayed the polite host clear to the end, with no sign of hurry even with the coffee. Then, however, the tension began to tell. Ordinarily his return to the office after a meal was leisurely and lazy, but this time he went right along, followed by his guests and me. He marched across to his chair behind the desk, got his bulk deposited, and snapped at me, “What have you got us into now?”
I was pulling chairs around so the Vardas family would be facing him, but stopped to give him an eye. “Us?” I inquired.
“Yes.”
“Okay,” I said courteously, “if that’s how it is. I did not invite them to come here, let alone to lunch. They came on their own and I let them in, which is one of my functions. Having started it, I’ll finish it. May I use the front room? I’ll have them out of here in a minute.”
“Pfui.” He was supercilious. “I am now responsible for their presence, since they were my guests at lunch... Sit down, sir. Sit down, Mrs. Vardas.”