“You do not fear danger on the streets after dark?”
“By no means. I have been walking around that area at night for several years, and nothing out-of-the-ordinary has ever happened.”
“Back to those two men you encountered,” Wolfe said after taking a drink of beer. “Had you seen them before?”
“Never,” Knowles said.
“How would you describe them?”
“I really didn’t get a good look at either one. I guess they were of about medium build. As far as their ages, I couldn’t hazard a guess in the dark.”
“Do you speak German?”
“I don’t,” Knowles replied, wearing a puzzled expression. “I do know enough French to get by in Paris, which I like to visit, but that is my only foreign language.”
“I believe that in your response to my advertisement, you wrote that one of the men used the words mein bein.”
“As least that’s what they sounded like to me,” Knowles said. “I may not have been pronouncing the words right.”
“Your pronunciation was correct. Those words, spoken in German, mean ‘my leg.’”
“I am not surprised to hear that, because the one who cried out was limping, as though something had happened to his leg. Was that because of the gunshot referred to in your ad?”
“That is very possible,” Wolfe said. “Before you saw those men, did you hear a gunshot?”
“Honesty compels me to say no,” Knowles said, “even though I realize that may jeopardize my chance of getting any reward.”
“You mentioned that on occasion you have stopped in several bars in the Hell’s Kitchen area. Is one of those establishments McCready’s on Tenth Avenue?”
“It is. I was there once, oh, probably close to a year ago now.”
“What was your impression of the establishment?”
“Frankly, I did not like it,” Knowles said. “Overall, the crowd in there seemed to be pretty rough and loud. Not nearly as friendly as other places I’ve frequented. From some of the conversation I overheard, I gathered that a lot of the patrons are longshoremen. I suppose that’s not surprising, given the tavern’s proximity to all those piers that line the Hudson.”
“Did anything else strike you about McCready’s?” Wolfe asked.
“I... don’t think so. Oh, come to think of it, I do remember hearing some foreign language spoken in there.”
“There are many displaced persons in New York now,” Wolfe said. “Have you noticed any of them in your neighborhood?”
Knowles wrinkled a brow. “Well, yes, I suppose I actually might have, perhaps without realizing it. On the streets and in some of the shops and restaurants, I’ve heard other languages being spoken with increased frequency, languages I of course don’t know and would not try to guess at, except maybe German. And judging by the appearance of the speakers, they are dressed in a way that indicates their lives probably have not have been easy ones. We’ve all read about the terrible problems of the displaced persons and how they have struggled to get to the United States.”
“Two more questions, Mr. Knowles: You mentioned following those two men as they went north on Tenth Avenue and entered an apartment building. Where was that building and what did it look like?”
“It was... let’s see... just north of Fifty-Eighth Street, and it wasn’t a very tall building, maybe five or six stories. Not what I would call luxurious by any means. And now that I think of it, the place was just across the street from that bar you had asked me about, McCready’s.”
“Indeed. Archie, please give Mr. Knowles one hundred dollars from petty cash and make a note of it. Thank you for coming, sir,” Wolfe said, rising and walking out, almost surely headed for the kitchen.
His host’s abrupt departure seemed surprising to Jason Knowles, but any unease he might have felt was more than offset by the money I handed to him.
“I was afraid that what I told Mr. Wolfe might not have seemed useful to him,” he said.
“I do not always understand my boss’s thinking, but then, he is a genius and I most definitely am not. If nothing else, you may have confirmed some of his suspicions or surmises.”
“Well, what happened that night was a most unsettling experience for me,” Knowles said. “I wish I could somehow have been of help.”
“You may have been of more help than you think,” I told him as I saw him to the front door of the brownstone.
Chapter 20
After Jason Knowles left, I went to the kitchen and found Wolfe conferring with Fritz about lunch. “Our visitor has departed and you are free to go back to the office,” I told him. He never likes to dismiss people, preferring to exit the office, leaving the good-byes to me.
“Well, what did you think of Mr. Knowles’s report?” I posed when we were resettled in the office.
“I found him to be trustworthy and moderately helpful.”
“Helpful in what way?”
“First, he in essence confirmed that at least one of the two men he encountered on the street that night is a speaker of German. Second, he saw the two men enter the Elmont, which would suggest one or both of them reside in that building.”
“Which would seem to indicate that the place is a hotbed of something or other,” I said, which was hardly being helpful.
“Get Mr. Cramer,” Wolfe ordered. I dialed a number I had memorized years ago as Wolfe picked up his instrument and I stayed on the line.
“Cramer!” came the bark I had come to expect from the homicide inspector.
“This is Nero Wolfe. I have come into the possession of information you may find of interest.”
“Before I ask what that information is, what is its source?”
“No, sir. My source is not germane to this discussion. Are you interested, or not?”
A drawn-out sigh moved across the wire, followed by a silence that lasted several seconds. “All right, shoot, Wolfe. And you had better not be wasting my time.”
“Have I ever wasted your time, sir? Before I move ahead, a question: Has any hospital in Manhattan reported the admission of an individual with a gunshot wound to the leg or ankle in the last few days?”
“They have not — and yes, we’ve been checking.”
“I suggest the person you seek is in the Elmont apartment building on Tenth Avenue near Fifty-Eighth Street.”
“Is this individual of yours a resident of the Elmont?” Cramer asked.
“That is probable but not definite.”
“And I suppose you got this information from one of the people who answered your ad in the Gazette?”
“It is immaterial where and how I received the information, sir. But I felt it my duty to share it with you.”
“Your duty, hah! When have you seen it a duty to do anything to help the department?”
“I believe I am helping the department with what I have told you.”
“I will be the judge of that,” Cramer said.
“As you wish,” Wolfe replied, but he was speaking to no one, as the inspector had hung up.
“It seems our top homicide cop is looking a gift horse in the mouth,” I said.
Wolfe made a face, as he often does in reaction to comments I come out with. “If you insist upon resorting to clichés, I will reply in kind and suggest that Mr. Cramer would be wise to saddle and ride that horse of which you speak. Are you prepared to give odds on whether he orders a search of the Elmont apartments?”
“Sure, I’ll make it three-to-one that homicide cops will be going door-to-door in that tired old building looking for someone with a Marley .38 bullet in his leg. And the reason I say homicide cops will do the sweep is that all this is surely tied to Chester Miller’s murder.”
“For once, I cannot argue either with those odds or with your reasoning.”