I went and pulled the front door open and protested, “My God, you might give a man time to untwist his ankles.” Inspector Cramer, with Sergeant Purley Stebbins at his heels, wasn’t even polite enough to give me a nod, after all the help I had been to him Friday night. They marched down the hall and into the office, with me in their rear.
“Good morning,” Wolfe said curtly.
“Godalmighty,” Cramer yawped, “so you’re at it again!” “Am I? At what?” “This,” Cramer yawped, “can take one minute or it can take hours! It’s up to you which! What did Kerr Naylor come here for Friday night, what time did he leave, and where did he go?” “That won’t take even a minute, Mr. Cramer. Mr. Naylor wasn’t here Friday night.
I don’t like your manner. I seldom do. Good day, sir.” “Are you saying—” For a moment Cramer was speechless. “Naylor didn’t come to see you at twenty minutes to nine Friday night, the night he was killed?” “No, sir. That’s twice, and that’s enough. You may—” “By God, you’re crazy!” Cramer whirled. “He’s off his nut, Stebbins!” “Yes, sir.” “Bring that man in here.” Purley strode out. Cramer strode to the red leather chair and sat down. I kept my eye on Wolfe, not to miss a signal to take steps to keep Purley and that man, whoever he was, on the outside, but got none. Wolfe had evidently decided that the most exasperating thing he could do was look bored, and was doing so. The only sound was Cramer breathing, enough for all three of us, until footsteps came from the hall. A man entered with Purley behind him. The man was middle-aged and starting to go bald and had shoulders as broad as a barn. He was absolutely out of humor. Purley moved a chair up for him and he plumped himself down.
“This,” Cramer said distinctly and impressively, “is Carl Darst. Friday evening he was hacking with Sealect cab number nine-forty-three, license number WX one-nine-seven-four-four-zero. Darst, who did you pick up on Fifty-third Street between First and Second Avenue?” “The guy you showed me a picture of.” Darst’s voice was husky and not affable.
“He yelled at me. I wish to God he hadn’t. My one Sunday—” “And the man whose body you saw at the morgue?” “Yeah, I guess so. It was hard—sure, it was him.” “That was Kerr Naylor. So was the photograph I showed you. Where did you take him to?” “He told me Nine-fourteen West Thirty-fifth Street and that’s where I took him.”
“That’s this address where we are now?” “Yes.” “What happened when you got here?” “When he paid me he said he wasn’t sure there would be anybody home, so would I wait till he found out, and I waited until he went up the steps and rang the bell, and the door opened and he started talking to someone, and then I shoved off. I didn’t wait until he went inside because he didn’t ask me to.” “But the door opened for him and he spoke with someone?” “Yeah, I can say that much.” “All right, go out to the car and stay there. I may want you in here again. Do you want to ask him any questions, Wolfe?” Wolfe, still bored, shook his head indifferently. Darst got up and left, but Sergeant Stebbins stayed put. Cramer waited until the sound of the front door closing behind Darst came to us and then spoke with the calm assurance of a man who has cards to spare.
“So I say you’re crazy. This is completely Cockeyed and if you can brush this one off I want to hear it. Try telling me that the fact that Naylor came and rang your bell and the door was opened doesn’t prove that he came on in, and then I ask you please to tell me, in that case, how did you happen to know that he got in a cab on Fifty-third Street at half-past eight? Wait a minute, I’m not through. That sounds like good reasoning, don’t it? But if it is, why in the name of God did you phone my office to tell about his taking a taxi, and even give us the number of the cab? Knowing it would be pie to find it. I say you’re crazy. Usually when you’re staging a runaround at least I have a general idea which direction you’re going, but this time you’ll have to spell it out. I would love to hear you.” “Pfui,” Wolfe muttered.
“Okay, phooey. Go on from there.” “Archie,” Wolfe asked me casually, “you went to a movie Friday evening?” “Yes, sir.” “What time did you leave here?” “Right around eight-thirty.” “Then you couldn’t have opened the door for Mr. Naylor.” Wolfe pushed a button on his desk, and in a moment the door to the hall opened and Fritz appeared.
Wolfe addressed him, “Fritz, do you remember that Friday evening after dinner Archie went out? To the movies?” “Yes, sir.” “And that somewhat later, around a quarter to eleven I think, Mr. Cramer called?” “Yes, sir.” “That should identify the evening sufficiently. Did the doorbell ring soon after Archie left?” “Yes, sir.” “You answered it?” “Yes, sir.” “Who was it?” “He didn’t tell me his name. It was a man.” “What did he want?” “He asked for Mr. Goodwin.” “Go on, finish it.” “I told him Mr. Goodwin was out. He asked if Mr. Wolfe was in and I told him yes. After thinking to himself a brief period he asked when Mr. Goodwin would be back and I said probably some time after eleven. I asked him if he wished to leave his name and he said no. He had turned and was going down the steps when I closed the door.” Cramer made a sound which Wolfe ignored. “What time was this?” “It was eight-forty-five when I got back to the kitchen. I made a note, as always—God in heaven!” “What’s the matter?” “I forgot to tell Archie about it! When he returned Inspector Cramer was here, and then he was gone all night and slept late Saturday—this is extremely bad, sir—” “Not at all. It wouldn’t have mattered. Did you tell me about it?” “No, sir. You were reading those three books, and he hadn’t left his name—” “Describe the man.” “He was short, shorter than me, and he wore a coat and hat. He had a small face and looked pinched and worried, as if he wasn’t a good eater.” “All right, Fritz, that’s all, thank you.” Fritz went, closing the door to the hall behind him. Wolfe turned to Cramer.
“Well, sir?” Cramer shook his head. “No,” he said emphatically. “Even with Fritz coached like that I still say you’re crazy. How did you know about Naylor taking a cab and why did you phone—” Wolfe cut him off. “Don’t start shouting at me again. You’ll never learn, I suppose, how to detect when I’m lying and when I’m not. Saturday afternoon a man came to this office and told me he had seen Mr. Naylor taking that taxicab. I questioned him and was satisfied that the facts he gave me were authentic, and I immediately phoned your office and gave those facts to Mr. Stebbins. What the devil is obreptitious about that?” “Who was the man that came to your office?” “No, sir. You don’t need that.” “Excuse me, Inspector,” Purley Stebbins put in.
Cramer glared at him. “What is it?” “Why, if we want any part of this that item won’t worry us. If we buy this it wasn’t Goodwin, so it was one of the boys that do jobs for Wolfe—Gore, Gather, Durkin, Panzer, or Keems. It stands to reason he was tailing Naylor. So either you can bear down on that, or if he’s too damn stubborn we can send out and collect ’em—” The phone rang. I whirled my chair and got it. It was Saul Panzer, desiring, he said to speak to Wolfe.
“Sure,” I said, in a tone you would use to a client you expected to send a nice bill to, “he’s right here, Mr. Platt. By the way, while I’m on the wire, that big downtown law firm that says all it wants is justice, not to mention names, you know, they’re going to try to serve a summons on you and it would be good policy for you to duck it, anyhow for a day or two. There are lots of places you can go besides home. Don’t you agree?” “Nothing simpler,” Saul said, “if I understand you. Who’s there, Cramer?” “Yes, I suppose they’re going to be quite insistent about it. Here’s Mr. Wolfe.”
Wolfe got on. He followed me on the Mr. Platt. Since he signaled me to hang up, meaning that his arrangements with Saul were still none of my business, I got as little out of the conversation as Cramer and Purley did, which was nothing at all. Wolfe’s end was mostly grunts. Purley sneezed. The three of us sat and waited for him, looking at him, until an event occurred which caused us to move our eyes elsewhere.