Again the report got postponed, this time by the arrival of Doc Vollmer. He accepted Wolfe's offer of a bottle of beer, as he always did when he called in the evening, and after it had been brought by Fritz and his throat was wet he told his story. His reception at White Plains had been neither warm nor cold, he said, just businesslike, and after a phone call to Wolfe an Assistant DA had escorted him to the morgue. As for what he had found, the best he could do was a guess. The centre of the impact of the car's wheels had been the fifth rib, and the only sign of injury higher on Rony than that was a bruise on the right side of his head, above the ear. Things that had happened to his hips and legs showed that they had been under the car, so his head and shoulders must have been projecting beyond the wheels. It was possible that the head bruise had been caused by contact with the gravel of the drive, but it was also possible that he had been struck on the head with something and knocked out before the car ran over him. If the latter, the instrument had not been something with a sharp edge, or with a limited area of impact like the head of a hammer or wrench, but neither had it had a smooth surface like a baseball bat. It had been blunt and rough and heavy.
Wolfe was frowning. “A golf club?” “I shouldn't think so.” “A tennis racket?” “Not heavy enough.” “A piece of iron pipe?” “No. Too smooth.” “A piece of a branch from a tree with stubs of twigs on it?” “That would be perfect if it were heavy enough.” Vollmer swallowed some beer.
“Of course all I had was a hand glass. With the hair and scalp under a microscope some evidence might be found. I suggested that to the Assistant District Attorney, but he showed no enthusiasm. If there had been an opportunity to snip off a piece I would have brought it home with me, but he didn't take his eyes off me. Now it's too late because they were ready to prepare the body for burial' “Was the skull cracked?” “No. Intact. Apparently the medical examiner had been curious too. The scalp had been peeled back and replaced.” “You couldn't swear that he had probably been knocked down before the car struck him?” “Not ‘probably’. I could swear he had been hit on the head, and that the blow might have been struck while he was still ereot-as far as my examination went.” “Confound it,” Wolfe grumbled. “I hope to simplify matters by forcing those people up there to do some work. You did all you could, Doctor, and I'm grateful.” He turned his head. “Saul, I understand that Archie gave you some money for safe keeping the other evening?” “Yes, sir.” “Have you got it with you?” “Yes, sir.” “Please give it to Doctor Vollmer.” Saul got an envelope from his pocket, took some folded bills from it, and stepped to Vollmer to hand them over.
Doc was puzzled. “What's this for?” he asked Wolfe.
“For this afternoon, sir. I hope it's enough?” “But-I'll send a bill. As usual.” “If you prefer it, certainly. But if you don't mind I wish you'd take my word for it that it is peculiarly fitting to pay you with that money for examining Mr Rony's head in an effort to learn the truth about his death. It pleases my fancy if it doesn't offend yours. Is it enough?” Doc unfolded the bills and took a look. “It's too much.” “Keep it. It should be that money, and all of it.” Doc stuck it in his pocket. “Thanks. Anything to be mysterious.” He picked up his beer glass. “As soon as I finish this, Archie, I'll take a look at your face. I knew you'd try to close in too fast some day.” I replied suitably.
After he had gpne I finally reported for Saul and me. Wolfe leaned back and listened to the end without interrupting. In the middle of it Fred Durkin and Orrie Gather arrived, admitted by Fritz, and I waved them to seats and resumed.
When I explained why I hadn't insisted on something better than Jimmy's corny tale about letters Gwenn had written Rony, in spite of the way Mom had scrambled it for him, Wolfe nodded in approval, and when I explained why I had walked out of the law office of Murphy, Kearfot and Rony without even trying to look in a wastebasket, he nodded again. One reason I like to work for him is that he never rides me for not acting the way he would act. He knows what I can do and that's all he ever expects; but he sure expects that.
When I got to the end I added, “If I may make a suggestion, why not have one of the boys find out where Aloysius Murphy was at nine-thirty Monday evening? I'd be glad to volunteer. I bet he's a D and a Commie both, and if he didn't kill Rony he ought to be framed for it. You ought to meet him.” Wolfe grunted. “At least the afternoon wasn't wasted. You didn't find the membership card?” “Yeah, I thought that was how you'd take it.” “And you met Mrs Sperling and her son. How sure are you that he invented those letters?” I shrugged. “You heard me describe it.” “You, Saul?” “Yes, sir. I agree with Archie.” “Then that settles it.” Wolfe sighed. “This is a devil of a mess.” He looked at Fred and Orrie. “Come up closer, will you? I've got to say something.” Fred and Orrie moved together, but not alike. Fred was some bigger than Orrie.
When he did anything at all, walk or talk or reach for something, you always expected him to trip or fumble, but he never did, and he could tail better than anybody I know except Saul, which I could never understand. Fred moved like a bear, but Orrie like a cat. Orrie's strong point was getting people to tell him things. It wasn't so much the questions he asked. As a matter of fact, he wasn't very good at questions, it was just the way he looked at them. Something about him made people feel that he ought to be told things.
Wolfe's eyes took in the four of us. He spoke.
“As I said, we're in a mess. The man we were investigating has been killed, and I think he was murdered. He was an outlaw and a blackguard, and I owe him nothing. But I am committed, by circumstances I prefer not to disclose, to find out who killed him and why, and, if it was murder, to get satisfactory evidence.
We may find that the murderer is one who, by the accepted standards, deserves to live as richly as Mr Rony deserved to die. I can't help that; he must be found.
Whether he must also be exposed I don't know. I'll answer that question when I am faced by it, and that will come only when I am also facing the murderer.” Wolfe turned a hand over. “Why am I giving you this lecture? Because I need your help and will take it only on my own terms. If you work with me on this and we find what we're looking for, a murderer, with the required evidence, any one or all of you may know all that I know, or at least enough to give you a right to share in the decision: what to do about it. That's what I won't accept. I reserve that right solely to myself. I alone shall decide whether to expose him, and if I decide not to, I shall expect you to concur; and if you concur you will be obliged to say or do nothing that will conflict with my decision. You'll have to keep your mouths shut, and that is a burden not to be lightly assumed. So before we get too far I'm giving you this chance to stay out of it.” He pressed a button on his desk. “I'll drink some beer while you think it over.
Will you have some?” Since it was the first group conference we had had for a long time, all five of us, I thought it should be done right, so I went to the kitchen, and Fritz and I collaborated. It was nothing fancy-a bourbon and soda for Saul, and gin fizzes for Orrie and me, and beer for Fred Durkin and Wolfe. Straight rye with no chaser was Fred's drink, but I had never been able to talk him out of the notion that he would offend Wolfe if he didn't take beer when invited. So while the rest of us sat and enjoyed what we liked, Fred sipped away at what I had heard him call slop.