“Nothing but a little more evidence.” Cramer glanced at his wrist-watch. “We’ll get ’em, all right. It don’t pay to kill a cop in this town.” He stood up. “It wouldn’t pay for anyone to hide a cop killer in their front room, either. Thanks for the beer. I’ll be expecting those affidavits, and in case—”
The phone rang. I swiveled and got it. “Nero Wolfe’s office, Archie Goodwin speaking.”
“Inspector Cramer there?”
I said, yes, hold it. “For you,” I told him, and moved aside. He spoke not more than twenty words altogether, between spells of listening. He dropped the phone onto the cradle and headed for the door.
“Have they found ’em?” I asked his back.
“No.” He didn’t turn. “Someone’s hurt — the Stahl girl.”
I marched after him, thinking the least I could do was cooperate by opening another door for him, but he was there and on out before I caught up, so I about-faced and returned to the office.
Wolfe was standing up, and I wondered why all the exertion, but a glance at the wallclock showed me 3:55, nearly time for his afternoon visit to the plant rooms.
“He said Janet got hurt,” I stated.
Wolfe, finishing his beer, grunted.
“I owe Janet something. Besides, it could mean that Carl and Tina are out of it. I can be there in ten minutes. Why not?”
“No.” He looked at the clock, and moved. “Put those folders back, please.” Halfway to the door, he turned. “Disturb me only if it is unavoidable. And admit no more displaced persons to the house. Two at a time is enough.”
I put the folders away and then went to the front room. Tina, who was lying on the couch, sat up as I entered and saw to her skirt hem. She had nice legs, but my mind was occupied. Carl, on a chair near the foot of the couch, stood up and asked a string of questions with his eyes.
“As you were,” I told them gruffly. I heartily agreed with Wolfe that two was enough. “I hope you didn’t go near the windows.”
“We have learned so long ago to stay away from windows,” Carl said. “But we want to go. We will pay the fifty dollars gladly.”
“You can’t go.” I was emphatic. “That was Inspector Cramer, a very important policeman. We told him you were in here, and so—”
“You told him—” Tina gasped.
“Yes. It’s the Hitler-Stalin technique in reverse. They tell barefaced lies to have them taken for the truth, and we told the barefaced truth to have it taken for a lie. It worked. So now we’re stuck, and you are, too. You stay here. We’ve told the cops you’re in this room, and you’re not going to leave it, at least not until bedtime. I’m locking you in.” I pointed to a door. “That’s a bathroom, and there’s a glass if you want a drink. It has another door into the office, but I’ll lock it. The windows have bars.”
I crossed to the door to the hall and locked it with my master key. I went through to the office, entered the bathroom in the corner, turned the bolt flange on the door to the front room, opened the door an inch, returned to the office, locked that door with my key, and went back to the front room.
“All set,” I told them. “Make yourselves comfortable. If you need anything don’t yell, this room is soundproofed; push this button.” I put my finger on it, under the edge of the table. “I’ll give you the news as soon as there is any.” I was going.
“But this is hanging in the air on a thread,” Carl protested.
“You’re right, it is,” I agreed grimly. “Your only hope is that Mr. Wolfe has now put his foot in it and it’s up to him to get both you and him loose, not to mention me. By the way, there is a small gleam. Inspector Cramer beat it back to the shop because he got a phone call that Janet had been hurt. If she got hurt with scissors with you not there, it may be a real break.”
“Janet?” Tina was distressed. “Was she hurt much?”
“I don’t know,” I said, “and I’m not going to try to find out. We’ll have to sit it out, at least until six o’clock.” I glanced at my wrist. “That’s only an hour and twenty minutes. Then we’ll see if Mr. Wolfe has cooked up a charade. If not, he may at least invite you to dinner. See you later.”
I went to the door to the office, passed through, closed the door, and locked it. There in privacy I took a survey of the Vardas situation. Being smart enough to get it in that neither Carl nor Tina could drive a car was all right as far as it went, but it proved nothing at all about the scissors in Jake Wallen’s back; it merely showed that there are motives and motives. The cops thought Wallen had been killed by a cornered hit-and-run driver, but what did I think? And, even more important, what did Wolfe think? I was still trying to find the answers when the phone rang.
It was Sergeant Purley Stebbins: “Archie?... Purley. I’m at the barbershop. We want you here quick.”
I responded courteously: “I’m busy, but I guess so. If you really want me. Do you care to specify?”
“When you get here. Grab a cab.”
I buzzed Wolfe on the house phone and reported the development. Then I hopped...
The crowd of spectators ganged up in the corridor outside the Goldenrod Barbershop was twice as big as it had been before, and inside the shop there was a fine assortment of cops and dicks to look at. The corridor sported not one flatfoot, but three, keeping people away from the entrance. I told one of them my name and errand and was ordered to wait, and in a minute Purley came and escorted me in.
I darted a glance around. The barber chairs were all empty. Fickler and three of the barbers, Jimmie, Ed, and Philip, were seated along the row of waiting chairs, in their white jackets, each with a dick beside him. Tom was not in view.
Purley had guided me to the corner by the cash register. “How long have you known that Janet Stahl?” he demanded.
I shook my head reproachfully. “Not that way. You said I was needed and I came on the run. If you merely want my biography, call at the office any time during hours.”
Purley’s right shoulder twitched. It was only a reflex of his impulse to sock me, beyond his control and therefore nothing to resent. “Some day,” he said, setting his jaw and then releasing it. “She was found on the floor of her booth, out from a blow on her head. We brought her to and she can talk, but she won’t. She won’t tell us anything. She says she won’t talk to anybody except her friend Archie Goodwin. How long have you known her?”
“I’m touched,” I said with emotion. “The only chat I’ve ever had with her was here today under your eye, but look what it did to her. Is it any wonder my opinion of myself is what it is?”
“Listen, Goodwin; we’re after a murderer.”
“I know you are. I’m all for it.”
“You’ve never seen her outside this shop?”
“No.”
“That can be checked, maybe. Right now we want you to get her to talk. She’s stopped us dead. Come on.” He moved.
I caught his elbow. “Hold it. If she sticks to it that she’ll only talk with me I’ll have to think up questions. I ought to know what happened.”
“Yeah.” Purley wanted no more delay, but obviously I had a point. “There were only three of us left — me here at the front, and Joffe and Sullivan there on chairs. The barbers were all working on customers. Fickler was moving around. I was on the phone half the time.”
“Where was Janet?”
“I’m telling you. Toracco — that’s Philip — finished with a customer, and a new one got in his chair — we were letting regular customers in. The new one wanted a manicure, and Toracco called Janet, but she didn’t come. Fickler was helping the outgoing customer on with his coat. Toracco went behind the partition to get Janet, and there she was on the floor of her booth, cold. She had gone there fifteen minutes before, possibly twenty. I think all of them had gone behind the partition at least once during that time.”