to haul off and aim one. He halted and said slowly, “Don’t
get scared, I couldn’t do it here. But there’s a room down in
the basement or I could take you out to the barracks. Get this.
You cut the comedy.”
I shrugged. “If you fellows really want to talk seriously,
I’ll tell you something. Do you?”
“You’ll find out how serious we are before we finish with
you.”
“Okay. First, if you think you can scare me by threats
about basements you’re too dumb for a mother’s tears. Com-
mon sense is against it, the probabilities are against it, and
I’m against it. Second, the comedy. You asked for it by start-
ing it, yesterday afternoon. You have no judgment. It’s per-
fectly true that there are people who can be opened up by
making faces at them and talking loud, but if I was one of
them how long do you think I’d last as Nero Wolfe’s favorite
employee, eating with him at his table? Look at me, anyhow!
Can’t you tell one kind of mug from another kind? Third,
the situation we’re in. It’s so simple I understand it myself.
You think I have knowledge which is your legal property
because you’re cops working on a murder, and I say I haven’t.
Under those circumstances, what can I do? I can keep my
mouth shut. What can you do? You can arrest me and put me
under bond to appear on demand. Finally, when you’ve gath-
ered up everything you can find and put it in order, you can
.either pin something on me, like obstruction of justice or
accessory or perjury if I’ve been under oath, or any of that
crap, or you can’t. I return for a moment to your objection to
my comedy. You deserved it because you’ve acted like a pair
of comics yourselves.”
I turned my palms up. “Were any of the words too long
for you?”
Barrow sat down and looked at Waddell. The District At-
torney said, “We don’t think you have knowledge of facts,
we know you have. And that’s no comedy. Will you give them
to us?”
“Nothing to give.”
“Do you know your jeopardy? Have you had legal advice?”
“I don’t need it. Didn’t you hear my lecture? Find a lawyer
that can beat it.”
“You mentioned a bond. If you apply for release on bail,
I’ll oppose it. If your application is granted, it will be as high
as I can make it.”
“That’s jake. Don’t start worrying your little head about
that on top of all your other troubles. I don’t believe a rustic
judge can look me in the eye and hold me without bail. The
amount is a matter of indifference. My sister’s father is a rich
sewer tycoon.”
“Your father? Where?”
“I said my sister’s father. My family connections are none
of your business, and besides, they’re too complicated for you
to understand. He is also occasionally my mother’s father, on
account of the fact that on the telephone last night my sister
was my mother. But he isn’t my father because I’ve never met
him.”
Barrow’s head was twisted with his eyes fixed on me search-
ingly. “By God, I don’t know,” he said in a tone of doubtful
surprise. “Maybe we ought to have Doc Sackett examine you.”
Waddell disagreed. “It would cost 5 dollars and it’s not
worth it. Put him back in .the cooler. If he’s starting any trou-
ble down there with this C. C. P. U. stuff, tell Oilie to put
him in solitary. Tell OUie he’d better investigate—”
The door popped open and Nero Wolfe walked in.
He looked neat and rested, with a clean yellow shirt on and
the brown tie with tan stripes which Constanza Berin had sent
him from Paris, but his shoes hadn’t been shined. My glance
took in those details as he crossed the room to us with his cus-
tomary unhurried waddle. I scratched my leg furiously.
He stopped in front of me and demanded, “What are you
doing? What’s the matter?”
“Nothing. I itch.”
“Look at your coat. Look at your trousers. Did you sleep
in them?”
“What do you think I slept in, silken raiment? I’m glad you
stopped in, it’s nice to see you. We’ve been chatting. They’re
just sending me back to the you know. Did you hear from my
mother? She’s stricken.”
He muttered, “Pfui,” turned from me and looked at the
other two and said good morning, and cast his eyes around.
Then he took a step toward Barrow and said in his best man-
ner, “Excuse me. Captain, but you have the only chair that is
endurable for me. I’m sure you wouldn’t mind changing,”
Barrow opened his mouth, but shut it again and got up and
moved.
Wolfe nodded thanks, sat down, and directed a composed
gaze at the district attorney. “You’re a hard man to catch, sir,”
he observed. “I spent hours last evening trying to find you.
I even suspect I was being evaded.”
“I was busy.”
“Indeed. To any effect?”
Barrow growled. Waddell leaned forward again with his
fist on his desk. “Look here, Wolfe,” he said in a nasty tone.
“I’ve concluded you’re no better than a waste of time, and
probably worse. Thinking over what you told me about your
talk with Bronson, what does it add up to? Zero. You were
stringing me. You talk about evading! For the present I’ve only
got one thing for you: a piece of advice. Either instruct your
man here to open up and spill it, or do so yourself.”
Wolfe sighed. “You’re in a huff. Yesterday Captain Barrow,
now you. You gentlemen are extraordinarily touchy.”
“I’m touchy enough to know when I’m being strung. I don’t
enjoy it. And you’re making a mistake when you figure that
with Fred Osgood behind you, you can get away with any-
thing you want to. Osgood may have owned this county once,
but not any more, and he may be headed for a disagreeable
surprise himself.”
“I know.” Wolfe was mild, and look resigned. “It’s incredi-
ble, but judging from rumors that have reached Mr. Osgood
you are actually entertaining a theory that Bronson killed his
son, and the killing of Bronson was an eye for an eye. Mr.
Waddell, that is infantile. It is so obviously infantile that I
refuse to expound it for you. And your suggestion that I rely
on Mr. Osgood’s position and influence to protect me from
penalties I have incurred is equally infantile. If I palaver
with you at all—”
“You don’t need to,” Waddell snapped. “Peddle it some-
where else.” Abruptly he stood up. “For two cents I’d stick
you in with Goodwin. Beat it. On out. The next time I listen
to you it will be in a courtroom. Take Goodwin down. Cap-
tain.”
“Oh, no.” Wolfe was still mild. “No, indeed. I bothered to
see you only on Mr. Goodwin’s account. You’ll listen to me
now.”
“And who’ll tell me why?”
“I will. Because I know who murdered Clyde Osgood and
Howard Bronson, and you don’t.”
Barrow straightened. Waddell stared. I grinned, and wished
Basil was there to tell me which spoon the bean was under.
“Furthermore,” Wolfe went on quietly, “there is a very slim
chance that you could ever find out, and no chance at all that
you would ever be able to prove it. I have already found out,
and I shall soon have proof. Under the circumstances, I should
say it is even your duty to listen to me.”
Barrow snapped, “I’d suggest having a judge listen to you.”
“Pfui. For shame. Captain! You mean threaten me with the
same treatment you have given Mr. Goodwin? I merely tell
the judge I blathered. If he proves to be also an imbecile and
holds me, I procure bail and then what do you do? You are
helpless. I assure you—”
Waddell exploded, “It’s a goddam cheap bluff!”
Wolfe grimaced. “Please, sir. My reputation … but no, I
have too much respect for my reputation—”
“You say you know who murdered Clyde Osgood? And
Bronson?”
“I do.”
“Then by God you’re right. I’ll say I’ll listen to you.” Wad-
dell sat down and pulled his phone over, and after a moment
barked into it, “Send Phillips in.”
Wolfe raised his brows. “Phillips?”
“Stenographer.”
Wolfe shook his head. “Oh, no. You misunderstand. I only
came for Mr. Goodwin. I need him.”
“You do? So do we. We’re keeping him. I repeat to you
what I’ve told him, if there’s an application for bail I’ll oppose
it.”
The door opened and a young man with pimples appeared.
Waddell nodded at him and he took a chair, opened his note-
book, poised his pen, and inquired, “Names?” Waddell mut-
tered at him, “Later. Take it.”
Wolfe, disregarding the performance, said in a satisfied
tone, “Now we’ve arrived at the point. It’s Mr. Goodwin I