“Speaking of your work,” I went on, “do you remember that you told me once that you like it here and have to have a job? I shouldn’t think you’d like it here much now, with all the annoyance. But I can understand your having to have a job because I do too. I can understand your not wanting to do anything that would get you fired. So don’t get fired. Quit. Mr. Wolfe knows a lot of people, and one of them is a senior partner in one of the best and biggest law firms in New York. You can have a job with them, secretary to a member of the firm, seventy a week to start, nine-thirty to five and closed Saturdays, haven’t skipped a Christmas bonus for eighteen years. Your room will be three times as big as this one, two windows, two rugs, any kind of typewriter you want, good view of the harbor and the Statue of Liberty. What do you say?” She sorted papers, with no glance at me. I warmed up to it and proceeded to analyze her chances for a glowing future in the law business. To get the effect I was after it was desirable to spend at least a quarter of an hour with her, and twenty minutes would be better. So I went into the matter thoroughly and considered it from every angle. I found as I went on that what appealed strongest to my fancy was the possibility of her becoming a court stenographer, with all the dramatic opportunities and financial advantages which that offered.
On that I really went to town. I had been with her twenty-three minutes, and saw no reason why it shouldn’t go on until lunchtime, when I heard the door opening behind me. Twisting my head, I saw Sumner Hoff.
He shut the door, circled around to confront me, and told me in a low threatening tone, “Get out of here.” I couldn’t have asked for anything better. This would be a real help. I looked up at him and matched his tone. “Get out yourself, you goddam snooping son of a bitch.” He reacted as might have been expected from the cavalier who had plugged Waldo Moore in full view of the whole arena. He made me aware in fact, that I might have done him an injustice that day in Wolfe’s office; he was capable of rating a sock when his emotions were fully aroused. But it would have been bad tactics to smash him at that point and anyway his ideas of combat were so ill advised that it would have been a shame. As I left my chair he came for me with his right as if it was the only fist in the world and nothing else was worth considering. I jerked my head aside out of the way, and while he was recovering his balance I stepped to the door and opened it, saying in a loud voice: “You’re too late to stop her, Hoff! You’re too late!” Then I ran. I ran across the middle of the arena, glancing over my shoulder, in flight, to see that Hoff had started after me, got as far as the fourth desk, and stopped. I kept going, getting, now, the attention I deserved from all eyes.
When I reached the other side I darted into my room, grabbed my hat and coat, emerged, left by the main entrance, took a down elevator, flagged a taxi on William Street, and gave the driver Wolfe’s address.
I found Wolfe up in the potting room with Theodore, inspecting a newly arrived shipment of osmundine. It was humid and warm in there, so I perched on a stool, got out my handkerchief, and wiped my brow.
“Well?” he inquired.
“Yes, sir. I was with her over twenty minutes. Hoff busted in and ordered me out, and I called him names and let him chase me. He must have spies.” “Excellent. Proceed.” “Yes, sir. I’ll stay here a while, to show that I had to consult you on an exciting development, and then go back. But there’s one thing I still don’t like. Each and every day I have been typing my report in the afternoon and taking it upstairs around four-thirty. If I change that routine and turn in a report before noon someone may suspect it’s a phony.” “You said that last night.” “I say it again today.” “The substance of the report justifies it.” “It did with Naylor too, but I followed routine.” He shrugged. “Very well. It doesn’t matter. Make it this afternoon as usual.” I left, went downstairs to the office, dialed the Naylor-Kerr number, asked for the extension of the head of the reserve pool in the stock department, and said I wanted to speak to Gwynne Ferris. I was told she was busy. So, I said, was I.
In a couple of minutes I heard her voice.
“Listen, darling,” I beseeched her. “I’m up at Thirty-fifth Street, had to come to see Mr. Wolfe. But I’ll be through here in about an hour, and there’s something I want to ask you about, and I’ll even go so far as to buy you a lunch. Meet me at the corner of William and Wall at twelve-thirty?” “You bum,” she said resentfully. “Letting that Hoff chase you clear off the floor and me not getting to see it because I was in Mr. Henderson’s office working. What do you want to ask me about?” “Something special. The next to last step in that rumba. Twelve-thirty?” She said all right.
I was sitting with my legs extended and my hands pushed into my pants pockets, frowning at the knob of the combination on the safe, when Wolfe came down from the plant rooms. After he got in his chair and had his center of gravity adjusted I transferred the frown to him and asked: “Did the boys come?” He nodded.
“All four of them?” He nodded.
“You gave them the set-up?” He nodded.
I shook my head. “Okay. If this thing really works, which I admit is one chance in a hundred and so do you, I only hope to God they don’t lose her and I have to do some more identifying.” “Nonsense.” Wolfe pushed the button for beer. “As I told you, I expect nothing as conclusive as that. But there may be some word, some gesture, some cautious countermove, and you, I trust, will not miss it.” “Yeah.” My frown remained. “Some trust. I have dated Gwynne for lunch and have reserved a booth at Frisbie’s, where shad roe is three bucks. Have you any further suggestions?” He said no, and Fritz entered with the beer.
CHAPTER Thirty
“Yes, turtledove,” I said, “you may have another Martini if it’s okay with Emily Post in the middle of a meal, and further if you don’t get dizzy. I need your head clear.” I had been with Gwynne enough to know that with the third or fourth drink her lovely eyes had a slight tendency to protrude and also to acquire a film of excess moisture. Also she was inclined to start cussing. I preferred her pure and angelic and had told her so frankly.
We were eating shad roe and avocado salad in a corner booth at Frisbie’s.
“I don’t get dizzy,” she pouted. “A girl like me can’t afford to. My head is always clear, and what do you want it clear for? Some more crap about that awful night, that Friday night I’ll never forget? Out of bed to police headquarters! I never thought I’d come to that, I can tell you!” “Neither did I,” I said earnestly. “No, it’s not about that awful night, or at least not about your part of it.” I took time out to tell the waiter to bring the Martini, and, to be sociable, more bourbon for me.
“The reason I’ve been hesitating,” I said, “is that it’s extremely confidential.
On the other hand, I badly need your advice. I have a fair idea of what your opinion of Hester Livsey is, but—well, is she actually a little batty? What do you think?” Gwynne snorted. I had told her she should give up snorting. “That girl batty? I should say not! What’s she trying to put over on you?” “That’s just it,” I said in a puzzled tone. “I can’t figure it that she’s trying to put anything over. I can’t figure it at all.” “I bet she is. What’s she done?” I hesitated. I gazed seriously at the lovely blue eves. “This is very confidential, Gwynne darling.” “Sure.” “I’ve told Mr. Wolfe, and he has given me permission to consult you.” “For God’s sake go on and spill it!” “Well—I suppose—Hester Livsey told me this morning that she knows who killed Waldo Moore. She said she has known for a long time.” Gwynne’s fork, with a hunk of avocado, stopped halfway to her mouth. “She told you she knows?” “Yep.” “No!” “So she told me.” “Jesus!” The fork with the avocado slowly descended to the plate and rested there.