When I was empty, both of facts and of annotations, I observed, “One thing to consider, you know what we were hired for, to establish the manner of Moore’s death. Remember your letter to Pine? Well, that seems to be established, anyhow as far as the cops are concerned. So have we still got a client? If we go on wearing out your muscles and my brains, do we get paid?” Wolfe nodded. “That occurred to me, naturally. I telephoned Mr. Pine this morning, and he seems a little uncertain about it. He says there will be a directors’ meeting Monday morning and he’ll let us know. By the way, his wife came to see me this morning.” “What! Cecily? Up and around before noon? What did she want?” “I haven’t the slightest idea. Possibly she knows, but I don’t. I suspect she’s hysterical but manages somehow to conceal it. Her ostensible purpose was to learn exactly what her brother said to you his last three days. She wanted it verbatim and she wanted to pay for it. How the devil that woman has any money left, with her passion for getting rid of it, is a mystery. She asked me to tell you that the baseball tickets will reach you Thursday or Friday. She also wanted to know if you are taking care of your face.” He wiggled a finger at me.
“Archie. That woman is a wanton maniac. It would be foolhardy to accept baseball tickets—” The doorbell rang.
“If it’s her again,” Wolfe commanded me in quick panic, “don’t let her in!” It wasn’t. I went to the hall, to the front door, and opened up, and was confronted by one of the faces I like best, Saul Panzer’s.
“What the hell,” I asked as he entered and hung his cap on the rack, “did you trip up on Bascom’s forgery and have to solicit?” Saul is always businesslike, never frolicsome, but now he was absolutely glum.
He didn’t even return my grin.
“Mr. Wolfe?” he asked.
“In the office. What bit you?” He went ahead and I followed. Saul never sits in the red leather chair, not on account of any false modesty that he doesn’t rate it, but because he doesn’t like to face a window. Having the best pair of eyes I know of, not even excepting Wolfe, he likes to give them every advantage. He picked his usual perch, a straight-backed yellow chair not far from mine, and spoke to Wolfe in a gloomy tone.
“I believe this is about the worst I’ve ever done for you. Or for anybody.” “That could still be true,” Wolfe said handsomely, “even if you had done well.
You said on the phone that you lost him. Did he know he was being followed? What happened?” “It wasn’t that bad,” Saul asserted. “It isn’t often that a man spots me on his tail, and I’m sure he didn’t. Of course he might have, but we can’t ask him now.
Anyhow, he was walking west on Fifty-third Street, uptown side, between First and Second Avenues—” “Excuse me,” I put in. “Shall I go upstairs and take a nap or would you care to invite me to join you?” “He was following Mr. Naylor,” Wolfe informed me.
It was nothing new for Wolfe to take steps, either on his own or with one or more of the operatives we used, without burdening my mind with it. His stated reason was that I worked better if I thought it all depended on me. His actual reason was that he loved to have a curtain go up revealing him balancing a live seal on his nose. I had long ago abandoned any notion of complaining about it, so I merely asked: “When?” “Yesterday. Last evening. Go ahead, Saul.” Saul resumed. “I was across the street and thirty paces behind. He had been walking, off and on, for two hours, and there was nothing to indicate he was ready to quit. There was no warning, such as keeping an eye to the rear for a taxi coming. He did it as if he got the idea all of a sudden. A taxi rolled past me, and just as it got even with him he yelled at it, and the driver made a quick stop, and he ducked across to it and hopped in, and off it went. I was caught flat-footed. I ran after it to the corner, Second Avenue, but the light was green and it went on through. There was no taxi for me in sight, so I kept on running, but either he had told his driver to step on it or the driver liked to get places.” Saul shook his head. “I admit it looks as if he was on to me, but I don’t believe it. I think he took a sudden notion. I don’t especially mind losing one, we all lose them sometimes, but just three hours before he murdered! That’s what gets me. Even say it was bad luck, if my luck’s gone I might as well quit. At the time, of course, not knowing he would be dead before midnight, I wasn’t much upset. I tried some leads I had, his chess club and a couple of other places, but didn’t get a smell. I went home and went to bed, thinking to try him again this morning. As soon as I saw the morning paper I phoned you, and you told me—”
“Never mind what I told you,” Wolfe said crisply. So he was getting up another charade, I thought. He asked Saul, “What time was it?” “It was eight-thirty-four when I quit running, so it was eight-thirty, maybe one minute one way or the other, when he got his taxi.” “Get Mr. Cramer, Archie.” I tried to fill the order but couldn’t, because Cramer was not to be had. He was probably home asleep after a hard night and morning, though no one was indelicate enough to tell me so. I was offered a captain and my choice of lieutenants, but turned them down and got Sergeant Purley Stebbins. Wolfe took it.
“Mr. Stebbins? How are you? I have some information for Mr. Cramer. At half-past eight last evening, Friday, Mr. Kerr Naylor stopped a taxicab on Fifty-third Street between First and Second Avenues. He got in the cab and it proceeded westward, through Second Avenue and beyond. He was alone. —- If you please, let me finish.” He consulted a slip of paper that Saul had handed him. “It was a Sealect cab, somewhat dilapidated, and its number was WX one-nine-seven-four-four-naught. That’s right. How the devil would I know the driver’s name? Isn’t that enough for you?—If you please. This information can be depended on, I guarantee it, but I have not, and shall not have, anything to add to it. Nonsense. If the driver denies it, bring him to me.” I was thinking that at least I was no longer the last one to see Naylor alive, though it was no great improvement since the honor had been transferred to Saul.
It would be nice when they hauled in the taxi driver and took it entirely out of the family.
“What happened,” Wolfe asked Saul, “before you lost him? You got him at William Street?” Saul nodded. “Yes, sir. He left the building at five-thirty-eight, walked to City Hall Park, bought an evening paper, and sat on a bench in the park and read it until a quarter past six. Then he went to Brooklyn Bridge, took the Third Avenue El, and got off at Fifty-third Street. He seemed now to be in a hurry, he walked faster. At First Avenue and Fifty-second Street he met a girl who was apparently expecting him. A young woman. They walked together west on Fifty-second Street, talking. At Second Avenue they turned right, and turned right again on Fifty-third Street and walked back to First Avenue. There they turned left, and again left on Fifty-fourth Street, and back to Second Avenue.
They were talking all the time. They kept that up for a solid hour, walking back and forth on different streets, talking. I couldn’t tell whether they were arguing or what. If they were, they never raised their voices enough for me to hear any words.” “You heard no words at all?” “No, sir. If I had got close enough I would have been spotted.” “Were they friends? Lovers? Enemies? Did they embrace or shake hands?” “No, sir. I don’t think they liked each other, from their manner, and that’s all I can say. They met at six-thirty-eight and parted at seven-forty-one, at the corner of Fifty-seventh Street and Second Avenue. The woman started downtown on Second Avenue. Naylor walked east on Fifty-seventh Street, stopped at a fruitstand around the corner on First Avenue and bought a bag of bananas, walked east to the Drive and sat on a bench, and ate nine bananas, one right after the other.” Wblfe shuddered. “Enough to kill a man.” “Yes, sir. He took his time at it, and then started walking again. He didn’t hurry, not much more than a stroll, and at Fifty-fifth Street he started the crosstown promenade again, over to Second Avenue, back on Fifty-fourth to First Avenue, and west again on Fifty-third. By that time I was expecting him to keep it up until he hit the Battery, and maybe I got careless. Anyhow, it was on Fifty-third that he suddenly flagged a taxi and I lost him.” Saul shook his head. “And he was on his way to get killed. Goddam the luck.” Saul never swore.