It was Ben Frenkel. He advanced two long strides from the door, stopped, gazed down at me with his probe working, and rumbled his thunder: “Am I intruding?” “Sure.” I grinned up at him. “What for?” “You had lunch with Miss Ferris today.” I nodded. “Nothing personal. There was something I wanted to discuss with her.” “I don’t believe it.” He was keeping his thunder low.
“Then I’m a liar again. Ask her.” “I don’t have to ask her. She has told me. You said you wanted to ask her advice, which is preposterous. You have talked with her several times now at great length, both you and Mr. Wolfe, and it is impossible to believe that you would want to ask her advice. You must be aware that she is completely devoid of intellect, and therefore that her opinion on any subject whatever is without value. She is not a moron, but the quality of her brain is distinctly inferior.”
“What’s this?” I was gaping at him. “I thought you liked her!” He waved that aside with a wide sweep of his long bony arm. “I don’t like her. I am passionately in love with her and you know it. Another thing, you told her something in confidence, which is even more preposterous. She is utterly incapable of keeping her mouth shut. You know that. That is your best assurance that I did not kill Waldo Moore-nor Naylor either. If I had I couldn’t have kept it from her-I can keep nothing from her. And if she knew it she would have blabbed it long ago, not just to you, to everybody. That’s how you know I’m innocent.” “It’s a point,” I conceded.
“Certainly it is. Then how do you account for the fact that you told her something which you said was highly confidential, pledging her to tell no one?” “I don’t see why-excuse me.” I stretched my neck again to gawk. Hester was returning from the restroom. As she entered her office I glanced at my wrist and registered the 3:19.1 returned to Frenkel.
“You may be wrong about Miss Ferris. You can’t take it for granted that everybody’s opinion of her brain power agrees with yours. You may be blinded by love.” His arm swept that away too, describing an arc with its full radius. “You’re just talking,” he rumbled. “You are trying to obscure an extremely serious matter by degrading it to a triviality. Also you are making use of Miss Ferris, using her as a tool, in a manner that may be dangerous to her. That is a vicious thing to do. Vicious is not too strong a word.” His eyes were boring into me.
“She is incapable of seeing the danger or of guarding against it, and I have a right to ask, I have a right to demand, that you tell me exactly what Miss Livsey said to you. The exact words. Since you chose Miss Ferris as your puppet, I assume that Miss Livsey mentioned my name. Did she?” “Not yet.” I tilted my head to see him better. “That’s sort of funny, how you’re repeating yourself. It was the same about Naylor, remember? You came to ask me if he had mentioned your name. Funny, huh?” “Not at all.” Frenkel whirled, took a step, grabbed the chair at the desk, planted it facing me, and sat. I had the impression that his eyes hadn’t left me at all. “I’m an introvert,” he declared as if that explained everything. “You could even say that I am egocentric. That’s why my infatuation for Miss Ferris has so deeply disturbed my personality. It has created an inner conflict…” He was off. There were, of course, various ways of stopping him, but I saw no point in hurting his feelings since I could stick to my observation post just as well with him there, though he could have only my ears since my eyes were engaged in another direction. So I listened to him attentively, on the slim chance that the word or gesture or counter-move might come from him, and I even tossed in an occasional question or comment. I was listening to him at 3:41, when I saw, across the arena, Sumner Hoff marching down the aisle and entering Hester’s room, and I was still listening at 3:55, when Hoff emerged and started in my direction.
Hoff came straight to my door and on in. I was on my feet by the time he arrived because there wasn’t room in that cubby-hole for any fancy acrobatics. Ben Frenkel stopped in the middle of a sentence and stood up too.
Hoff looked at him. “I want to speak with Goodwin. When you’re through?” “I’m never through,” Frenkel declared. He strode to the door, told us over his shoulder, “I never will be through,” and was gone.
Hoff started to close the door. I moved, put out a hand, and swung the door open again.
“I like to see out,” I said. “All the pretty girls. If it’s a private talk just keep your voice down.” For a second he thought he was going to insist on having the door shut, then he changed his mind. He went to the chair Frenkel had vacated and sat down. I would hardly have recognized him for the Hoff I knew. He looked neither belligerent nor indignant; it was even doubtful if he regarded himself as adequately prepared to handle things.
“I underestimated you,” he said. “Either you or Wolfe, or both.” “Don’t mention it,” I said amiably. “As Eve said to Adam, we all make mistakes.”
“Are you going to report upstairs and to the police that Miss Livsey told you that she knows who killed Moore and Naylor?” So it was improving with age, probably started that way by Gwynne herself. “I’m not employed by the city,” I asserted. “Of course it’s usual and proper to report to our client all important developments.” I patted my breast pocket.
“Yes.” “She denies that she told you that. She denies that she told you anything whatever.” I nodded regretfully. “I expected that, though I hoped she wouldn’t. She also denied that she took a walk with Naylor for an hour and three minutes the evening he was killed. She’s quite a denier.” Hoff wet his lips with his tongue. He swallowed. “You’ve got the report ready.
There in your pocket.” “Yes, sir.” I took my lapels, one in each hand, and pulled my coat open wide.
“On the right, the pocket with the report in it. On the left, the armpit holster with my Wembly automatic. Everything in place.” He didn’t seem impressed by the holster; it was the pocket he was interested in.
Then he came back to my eyes. His were not as penetrating and intense as Ben Frenkel’s, but they were steadier. “What,” he asked, “are you trying to force Miss Livsey to do?” I shook my head. “That’s up to her. Maybe we’re just trying to teach her a lesson, how immoral it is to deny things.” “She”-he wet his lips again-”she has told the truth.” “Okay, brother. You ought to know.” “I do know. I’m not a rich man, Goodwin. When it comes to money I can’t talk big, I have to stick to realities. I’ll give you five thousand dollars cash, I can get it by tomorrow, if you’ll just think it over and decide that you misunderstood her. That wouldn’t be difficult, you won’t have to revoke, you can just say you misunderstood her.” “Not for five grand I can’t.” “But I-” He stopped to think. “How much?” “Not for money. I don’t like money. It curls up at the corners. I could listen to reason if Miss Livsey came in here now, or came with me to see Mr. Wolfe, and delivered a dime’s worth of the truth. Provided we were satisfied it was a full dime’s worth.” “She has told you the truth.” “You ought to know.” He was silent. Slowly his fingers and thumbs closed to make fists, but obviously not with intent to attack or destroy. They stayed fists for a while, then opened up and were claws, then went loose.
“For God’s sake,” he implored, “don’t you realize what you’re doing? Don’t you realize the danger you’re putting her in?” He was coming close to whimpering.