Of course I was concentrated on the job. Whether the door from the outside hall to the foyer was opened so quietly that no sound came, or whether my ears caught a sound but I ignored it, what interrupted my investigation was her sudden tight grip on my hand as she straightened up and cried, “Don’t! You’re hurting me! Norman-thank God!”
My whirl around was checked for a second by her hold on my hand. For her size and sex she had muscle. I suppose to Norman Horne, approaching from behind me, it could have looked as if I were holding her, instead of her me, but even so it must have been obvious that I was turning, and he might have held his fire until I could at least see it coming. As it was, I was off balance when he plugged me on the side of the jaw, and I went clear down, sprawling. Added to the four touchdowns he had scored for Yale against Princeton, that made five.
“He was trying to force me-” Ann was saying with her sense of humor.
Probably I would have scrambled to my feet and departed, since Wolfe wouldn’t have appreciated my letting my personal feelings take charge when I was on a job, if it hadn’t been for Horne’s attitude. He was glaring down at me, with his fists ready, and it was doubtful if he would wait till I got farther up than on my knees. So I did a quick double roll, sprang all the way up, and faced him. He came at me wide open, as if I had been a dummy, and swung. There wouldn’t have been the slightest excuse for my missing the exact spot for a dead kidney punch, and I didn’t. Air exploded out of him, and he crumpled, not sprawling, but in a compact heap. Then he sort of settled to get comfortable.
His attractive wife took a couple of steps toward him, stopped to look at me, and said, “I’ll be damned.”
“You will if they consult me,” I told her emphatically, turned, went to the foyer and got my hat, and let myself out. On the way down in the elevator I felt my jaw and took a look at it in the mirror, and decided I would live.
I got home just at the dinner hour, seven-thirty, and since it takes an earthquake to postpone a meal in that house, and no mention of business is permitted at the table, my full report of the afternoon had to wait. If the main dish had been something like goulash or calves’ brains probably nothing unusual in my technique would have been apparent, but it was squabs, which of course have to be gnawed off the bones, and while I was working on the second one Wolfe demanded, “What the deuce is the matter with you?”
“Nothing. What?”
“You’re not eating, you’re nibbling.”
“Yeah. Broken jaw. With the compliments of Ann Horne.”
He stared. “A woman broke your jaw?”
“Sorry, no shoptalk at meals. I’ll tell you later.”
I did so, in the office, after dinner, and after I had looked into a little matter I was wondering about. I had obeyed the instruction, given me before lunch, to phone Saul Panzer, and Saul had said he would be at the office at two-thirty. By that time I had left. When, on the way from the dining room to the office, I asked Wolfe if Saul had come, he replied in one word, “Yes,” indicating that that was all I needed to know about it. Thinking it wouldn’t hurt me any to know more, I went and opened the safe and got out the little book from the cash drawer. Sometimes, in addition to the name and date and amount, Wolfe scribbles something about the purpose, but that time he hadn’t. The latest entry was merely the date and “SP $1000.” All that did was make me wonder further what Saul was expected to buy that might cost as much as a grand.
As I reported on my afternoon rounds, giving all conversations verbatim, which isn’t so hard when you’ve had plenty of practice and have learned that nothing less will be acceptable, Wolfe leaned back in his chair with his eyes closed. He was too damn placid. Ordinarily, when he sends me out for bacon and I return empty-handed, he makes some pointed cracks, no matter how hopeless he knows my errand was; but that time, not a one. That meant either that he didn’t like the job and to hell with it, or that I was just a sideshow, including my sore jaw, and the main attraction was elsewhere. When I was through he didn’t open his eyes or ask a single question.
I groaned with pain. “Since it’s obvious that I wasted five hours of your time, and since if I stay here I may say something that will rile you, I guess I’ll go see Doc Vollmer and have him set my jaw. He’ll probably have to wire it.”
“No.”
“No what?”
He opened his eyes. “I’m expecting a phone call. Probably not until tomorrow, but it could come this evening. If it does I’ll need you.”
“Okay, I’ll be upstairs.”
I mounted the two flights to my room, turned on the lights, went to the bathroom mirror to see if there was enough swelling for a compress, decided there wasn’t, and settled myself in my easy chair with a collection of magazines.
Nearly two hours had gone by, and I was yawning, when a sound came faintly through the open door-the sound of Wolfe’s voice. I went and lifted the phone on my bedside table and put it to my ear. It was dead. I had neglected to plug it in when I left the office. It would have been undignified to go to the hall, to the stair landing, and listen, so I did; but though Wolfe’s voice came up at intervals I couldn’t get the words. After enough of that I returned to the room and the easy chair, but had barely lowered myself into it when a bellow from below came.
“Archie! Archie!”
I did not descend the stairs three steps at a time, but I admit I didn’t mosey. Wolfe, at his desk, spoke as I entered the office. “Get Mr. Cramer.”
Getting Inspector Cramer of Homicide, day or night, may be very simple or it may be impossible. That time it was in between. He was at his office on Twentieth Street, but in conference and not available, so I had to bear down and make it plain that if he didn’t speak with Nero Wolfe immediately God only knew what tomorrow’s papers would say.
In a couple of minutes his familiar growl was growling at me. “Goodwin? Is Wolfe on?”
I nodded at Wolfe, and he took up his phone. “Mr. Cramer? I don’t know if you know that I’m investigating the Karnow murder. For a client. Mrs. Karnow engaged me at noon today.”
“Go ahead and investigate. What do you want?”
“I understand that Mr. Aubry is being held on a murder charge, without bail. That’s regrettable, because he’s innocent. If you are supporting that charge I advise you to reconsider. On the soundness of that advice I stake my professional reputation.”
I would have paid admission to see Cramer’s face. He knew Wolfe would rather go without eating a whole day than be caught wrong in a flat statement like that.
“That’s all I wanted, your advice.” The growl was still a growl, but not the same. “Is it all right if I wait till morning to turn him loose?”
“Formalities may require it. May I ask a question? How many of the others-Mrs. Savage, her son, Mr. and Mrs. Horne, Mr. Beebe-have been eliminated by alibis?”
“Crossed off, no one. But Aubry not only has no alibi, he admits he was there.”
“Yes, I know. However, it was one of the others. I must now choose between alternatives. Either I proceed independently to disclose and hand over the culprit, or I invite you to partake. Which would you prefer?”