She resumed on Wolfe. “The best way, I thought, would be to deal directly with you. Perhaps you’re quite right-if you simply quit, as I asked, my husband would engage someone else. Then why not let him have what he wants? Apparently he wants you to investigate, and my brother does too, so why not? You will be paid whatever has been agreed on, and in addition I will give you my personal check, and you can’t possibly object that I am paying you for nothing, because you will give me your guarantee that the investigation will not-let’s see-that no publicity will result. It doesn’t matter how we put it so long as we understand what we mean. The check could be for-ten thousand dollars?” Wolfe was shaking his head at her. “For heaven’s sake,” he muttered incredulously. “Do you realize you’re offering to pay me to keep a secret?” Her eyes widened. “I am not! What secret?” “I don’t know. Yet. But your husband-or his firm, in which you are the largest stockholder-is paying me to discover something, and you want to pay me to conceal it if and when I discover it. You called your husband and brother idiots, but what do you call yourself? You offer ten thousand dollars. You assume that I am capable of double-dealing. If I am, why should I stop there?
Why not a hundred thousand, a million? Madam, you’re an imbecile.” She ignored the compliment and was concentrating on the logic. “That’s silly,” she said scornfully. “Would I have come to you like this if I hadn’t known your reputation? That would be blackmailing, and you’re not a crook!” Wolfe was speechless, which was one more piece of evidence that he didn’t understand women half as well as he did men. I got her with no trouble at all.
Her position was simply that if he double-crossed Naylor-Kerr, Inc., there would be nothing crooked about it because that was what she wanted, whereas if he double-crossed or blackmailed her he would be a snide, a louse, and a blackguard; and she knew his reputation, and he wasn’t.
Seeing there was no meeting of minds and one wasn’t likely, I put in, “Look, Mrs. Pine, it won’t work that way, really it won’t. You can’t bribe him or threaten him.” She gazed at me, and evidently I wasn’t Archie any more, at least not at the moment.
“I haven’t tried to threaten him,” she stated.
“I know you haven’t. I just put that in.” She looked at Wolfe, and then back at me. “But-” She was inspecting an idea. “It should be possible to have his license revoked. With the taxes I pay and the people I know, I should be able to do that. Doesn’t a detective have to have a license?” That nearly made me speechless too, but somebody had to keep up our end. “He sure does,” I told her, “and I’m one too. You might try that, Alice, but I doubt if you’ll get anywhere.” “My name is Cecily.” “I know it is. I meant Alice in Wonderland. You remind me of her.” “That’s a wonderful book,” she declared. “I read it over again just recently.
Are you men partners?” “No, I work for him.” “I don’t see why. I don’t see how you can stand him. How much would it take for you to go into business for yourself?” “Pfui,” Wolfe interposed. “This is tommy-rot. You would find, madam, if you made the slightest effort, that I am a reasonable man. Do you want a suggestion from me?” “I don’t know,” she said reasonably. “Tell me what it is first.” “It’s this. You’ll never accomplish anything with this sort of cackle-not with Mr. Goodwin or me. Anyway, even if I accepted your ridiculous offer, you might be wasting your money. Your assumptions may not be sound. Evidently you assume that if we do a competent job of investigating Mr. Moore’s death it is certain, or at least highly probable, that a public scandal will result. What makes you so sure of that?” She looked at him appreciatively. “That’s quite clever,” she said generously.
“If I really were sure and told you why, it would be a great help to you. But I’m not sure at all. I just don’t want to run the risk.” “Do you share your brother’s opinion that Mr. Moore was murdered?” “Certainly not. It was an accident.” “Had you seen Mr. Moore that day? The day he was killed?” “No. I hadn’t seen him for months.” She laughed. It came from her throat on out, as if something had really struck her as funny. “He was going to get married! To a girl at the office named Livsey, Hester Livsey. He phoned me one day to tell me about it. Of course you can’t realize how grotesque that was because you didn’t know him.” “Did you advise him not to marry?” “Heavens, no. It wouldn’t have done any good. If I had known the girl I might have given her some advice, but not Waldo.” Mrs. Pine turned to me. “Is this a habit of his, Archie? He said he had a suggestion for me, and instead he cross-examines me.” “Yeah,” I agreed. “He doesn’t do it deliberately. His mind jumps the track.” “The suggestion,” Wolfe told her, ignoring me, “is a contingent one. It’s no good unless you’ve been telling the truth. If you have no knowledge of facts the disclosure of which would cause a sensation, and all you’re after is insurance against a risk, why not trust to my discretion? I have some, and I would gain neither pleasure nor profit from starting a public uproar unnecessarily. Why not help me get it over with? Its kernel is your brother’s tenacity, his fondness for the notion of murder-or at least for the word. I suppose you know your brother better than anyone else does. Why not help with him? Why not start now by telling us about him? For instance, I understand that you asked him to give Mr. Moore a job. Did he have any objection to that?” It was a fair try, but it didn’t work. Apparently Wolfe hadn’t noticed that she was allergic to talk of her brother, but that doesn’t seem likely, since he notices everything. At any rate, it was no go. She didn’t abruptly end the interview-on the contrary, she seemed quite willing to sit and chat all night -but she was utterly disinclined to furnish us with a biography of her brother.
The most specific statement Wolfe could drag out of her was that her brother was peculiar, and she had already told us that, and we knew it anyway.
Finally Wolfe got hold of the edge of his desk, pushed his chair back, and stood up. Mrs. Pine arose too, and I went and helped her on with her coat.
In the hall, with my hand on the knob of the front door, she stood where I couldn’t open it without banging her toe, and told me sympathetically, “I hope your face is better tomorrow.” “Thanks. So do I.” “And you didn’t answer my question about how much it would take for you to start your own business.” “That’s right, I didn’t. I’ll figure it up.” “Do you like symphony concerts?” “Yes, some, when I’m lying down. I mean on the radio.” She laughed. “Anyway, it’s nearly April. Boating? Golf? Baseball?” “Baseball. I go as often as I can get away.” “It’s a wonderful game, isn’t it? Yankees or Giants?” “Both. Either one, whichever’s in town.” “I’ll send you season tickets. Frankly, Archie, I think my brother is crazy.
Don’t tell Mr. Wolfe I said that.” “I never tell him anything.” “Then that’s our first secret. Good night.” I escorted her out, down the stoop and to the curb, but didn’t get to open the car door for her because her chauffeur was already attending to that. As I reascended the steps I was telling myself that I mustn’t forget to phone Lon Cohen in the morning and inform him that the job was practically mine but nothing doing on his ten per cent because I was landing it strictly on merit.
Back in the house I made a beeline for the stairs, taking no chances, but found it desirable to mount one step at a time. My room was two flights up. On the first landing I turned and yelled back down, “I’m going up and figure how much it will set her back to furnish my office! Good night!”