"You wouldn't stab a guy."
"No, sir," I agreed brightly, "it wouldn't be in character-"
"Shut up. But what if you and Tormic went there and found him there going through things. You got mad and socked him. Tormic got mad and stuck a knife in him. You sent for Durkin and made him a gift of the knife and he left with it. You phoned here and I was here."
"It sounds pretty plausible," I conceded, "but you're confronted with the question of motive again. What was it that infuriated Tormic to the point of croaking him? Another trouble is that Fred Durkin was here in the office when I plugged him." I shook my head. "That theory is full of holes. I'm in favour of crossing it off-"
The phone interrupted me. It was a call for Cramer. I gave him room to take it at my desk. He talked for a full ten minutes, everything from non-committal grunts to elaborate detailed instructions, and when it was finished returned to his chair.
He regarded me with a cold eye. "You know, son," he said finally, "you have one or two good qualities. In a way I even like you. In another way I could stand and watch your hide peeling off and not shed any tears. You have undoubtedly got the goddamdest nerve of anybody I know except maybe Nero Wolfe. Tormic is down at headquarters, with that lawyer you got for her, refusing to answer questions. I've got half a notion to try that old gag on her. I think I'll phone Rowcliff to tell her that you have admitted that Faber was on his feet when you and she got there, and you knocked him down."
"Go ahead," I urged him. "It will be interesting to see how it works out. But as far as my nerve is concerned, I never have had, do not now have, and never will have, enough nerve to risk one teeny-weeny chance of sitting in the frying-chair."
"Yesterday afternoon you fled the scene of a murder with the weapon used for the crime."
"Not knowingly. To begin with, I didn't fled, I merely went. And I did not know that culdymore was in my pocket."
Cramer leaned back, sighed, and began rubbing his nose again.
The door opened. Fritz entered, approached, and said:
"Mr Cather, sir."
Wolfe's chin went up. "Show him in."
I could tell from the tone of Wolfe's voice that there was a possibility that Orrie was bringing home a chunk of important bacon, but a glance at Orrie's face told me that he didn't have it. Wolfe obviously reached the same conclusion, for he said, more a statement than a question:
"No result."
Orrie stood with his overcoat on and his hat in his hand. "No, sir."
Wolfe grimaced. "Did you find the-things I suggested?"
"Yes, sir. More too. There were mentions-I saw the name-in a lot of articles and sometimes in headlines, but that was all. Of course I couldn't read-"
"That wouldn't help any. No pictures."
"No, sir. I went through every possible thing at the library, and I tried other places. The Times thought they would have one, but they didn't. I'm on my way to the consulate and I just stopped by here instead of phoning-"
"Don't go to the consulate. I phoned there and it's hopeless. Mr Cramer and I are both out of humour with consulates. Have you been to Second Avenue?"
"No, I was going there last."
"Try it. You might find it there. It is possible that Mr Cramer has arranged that anyone leaving this house shall be followed. If so, shake him. I don't want the police in on this. Not yet."
Orrie grinned. "That will be a pleasure." He tramped out.
Cramer said in a tone of disgust, "Horse feathers."
"It wouldn't be the first time you've tried that stratagem," Wolfe observed mildly. "Anyway, it's not as annoying as your former attempts at bulldozing. Thank heaven, you seem to have given that up. Are you through amusing yourself with Archie?"
"Amusing myself? Good God!"
"You must have been. You couldn't very well have been serious. Will you have some beer?"
"No, thanks-yes, I will too. I'm thirsty."
"Good." Wolfe pushed the button. "Did I understand you to say that you were having Miss Lovchen followed?"
"Yes. A double tail. One of them phoned in at ten-forty that she had left the house at 38th Street and gone to Miltan's, and was in there then, and we haven't heard from them since. Their instructions are to report in every two hours if they can do so without danger of losing contact."
"I see. It's very handy to have so many men."
"Yeah. It would be if more of them were worth a damn. There are over a hundred of them on this case right now. Sitting out up at 38th Street. Looking for the thing he was stabbed with. Getting backgrounds. Tailing. Looking for Lovchen and Zorka. Checking alibis. I'm expecting any minute to be told to pull a bunch of them off. Hush-hush." The inspector set his jaw. "But until I get direct orders to the contrary, I'm going to proceed on the theory that the people who pay my salary don't want any kind of a murderer to get any kind of a break. That's why I'm sitting here chinning with you. This is the one place where I might get a line on whatever it is that the goddam consuls and ambassadors are so bashful about. much obliged."
He took the beer Wolfe had poured for him, gulped, licked the foam from his lips, and gulped again.
He sat back holding the half-filled glass. "Let me ask you something. If you had your pick of everybody, everybody in or near New York, to be brought in here right now, for you to ask questions of about this case, who would it be?"
"Thank heaven," Wolfe declared, "I can answer that unequivocally. Madame Zorka."
The phone rang. It was for Cramer again and he took it at my desk. It was a short conversation this time, and when he disconnected and went back to his chair he had a satisfied grin on his mug.
"Well, well," he said, "I call that pretty good. No sooner asked for. They've got Zorka and I told them to bring her here."
"Indeed." Wolfe was filling his glass again. "Where did they find her?"
"In a room at the Brissenden. Registered phoney. Arrived at ten minutes past five this morning."
"I hope," Wolfe muttered, "that she has something to wear besides that red thing she had on last night."
"Huh? I beg your pardon?"
"Nothing. Soliloquy- Yes, Fritz?"
Fritz was in again. He had the salver this time, and crossed to Wolfe. Wolfe took the card, read it and frowned.
"The devil," he said. "Where is he?"
"In the hall, sir."
"Please put him in the front room, close the door, and come back."
As Fritz went Wolfe addressed the inspector:
"I don't suppose you have an errand somewhere else." "Neither do I," Cramer said emphatically. "I've told you ten times I like it here. If I once got out you might not let me in again unless I brought a warrant."
"Very well. Then I'm afraid- Oh, Fritz. Will you please take Mr Cramer up in the elevator and ask Theodore to show him the orchids?" He smiled at the inspector. "You haven't been up there for a long while. I'm sure you'll enjoy it."
"I'll love it," Cramer declared, and got up and followed Fritz out.
Wolfe handed me the card and I read, "John P. Barrett." The sound came of the elevator door clanging, and Wolfe said, "Bring him in."
Chapter Fifteen The appearance of Donnybonny's father in the flesh fitted the sound of his voice on the telephone. He was the kind many people call distinguished-looking and I call Headwaiter's Dream. He was around fifty, smooth-shaven, with grey eyes that needed to look only once at something, and was wearing $485 worth of quiet clothes. He shook hands with Wolfe in a pleasant manner, as if there could never be any hurry or urgency about anything in the world.