At eleven o’clock the next morning, Friday, I sat in the office listening to the clank of Wolfe’s elevator as it brought him down from the plant rooms.
There had been no cheep from Delia Devlin, but we hadn’t wanted one anyway. What we wanted we had got, at least the first installment. At 12:42 Thursday night Saul had phoned that Heath had checked in at Sixty-ninth Street, arriving in a taxi, alone. That was all for the night. At 6:20 in the morning he had phoned that Fred Durkin and his two men had taken over and had been briefed on the terrain. And at 10:23 Fred had phoned that Heath had left his tenement and taken a taxi to 719 East Fifty-first Street and entered the building. That was the gray brick house I had visited the day before. Fred said they had seen no sign of an official tail. They were deployed. I told him he was my favorite mick and still would be if he hung on, and buzzed Wolfe in the plant rooms to inform him.
Wolfe entered, got at his desk, looked over the morning mail, signed a couple of checks, dictated a letter of inquiry about sausage to a man in Wisconsin, and settled down with the crossword puzzle in the London Times. I carried on my routine neatly and normally, making it perfectly plain that I could be just as placid as him, no matter how tense and ticklish it got. I had just finished typing the envelope for the letter and was twirling it out of the machine when the doorbell rang. I went to the hall to answer it, took one look through the one-way glass panel, wheeled and returned to the office, and spoke.
“I guess I’m through as a bookie. I said forty to one she wouldn’t spill it. Wengert and Cramer want in. We can sneak out the back way and head for Mexico.”
He finished putting in a letter, with precision, before he looked up. “Is this flummery?”
“No, sir. It’s them.”
“Indeed.” His brows went up a trifle. “Bring them in.”
I went out and to the door, turned the knob, and pulled it open. “Hello hello,” I said brightly. “Mr. Wolfe was saying only a minute ago that he would like to see Mr. Cramer and Mr. Wengert, and here you are.”
Bright as it was, it didn’t go over so well because they stepped in with the first hello and were well along the hall by the time I finished. I shut the door and followed. Entering the office, it struck me as encouraging that Wengert and Wolfe were shaking hands, but then I remembered the District Attorney who always shook hands with the defendant before he opened up, to show there was no personal feeling. Cramer usually took the red leather chair at the end of Wolfe’s desk, but this time he let Wengert have it, and I moved up one of the yellow ones for him.
“I sent you my regards the other day by Goodwin,” Wengert said. “I hope he remembered.”
Wolfe inclined his head. “He did. Thank you.”
“I didn’t know then I’d be seeing you so soon.”
“Nor did I.”
“No, I suppose not.” Wengert crossed his legs and leaned back. “Goodwin said you had taken on a job for Mr. and Mrs. Benjamin Rackell.”
“That’s right.” Wolfe was casual. “To investigate the death of their nephew. They said he had been working for the FBI. It would have been impolitic to wander into your line of fire, so I sent Mr. Goodwin to see you.”
“Let’s cut the blah. You sent him to get information you could use.”
Wolfe shrugged. “Confronted with omniscience, I bow. My motives are often obscure to myself, but you know all about them. Your advantage. If that was his errand, he failed. You told him nothing.”
“Right. Our files are for us, not for private operators. My coming here tells you that we’ve got a hand in this case, but that’s not for publication. If you didn’t want to get into our line of fire you certainly stumbled. But officially it’s a Manhattan homicide, so I’m here to listen.” He nodded at Cramer. “Go ahead, Inspector.”
Cramer had been holding in with difficulty. Holding in is a chronic problem with him, and it shows in various ways, chiefly by his big red face getting redder, with the color spreading lower on his thick muscular neck. He blurted at Wolfe, “Honest to God, I’m surprised! Not at Goodwin so much, but you! Subornation of perjury. Attempting to bribe a witness to give false testimony. I’ve known you to take some fat risks, but holy saints, this ain’t risking it, it’s yelling for it!”
Wolfe was frowning. “Are you saying that Mr. Goodwin and I have suborned perjury?”
“You’ve tried to!”
“Good heavens, that’s a serious charge. You must have warrants. Serve them, by all means.”
“Just give it to him, Inspector,” Wengert advised.
Cramer’s head jerked to me. “Did you go last evening to the apartment of Delia Devlin on Fifty-first Street?”
“It’s hotter than yesterday,” I stated.
“I asked you a question!”
“This is infantile,” Wolfe told him. “You must know the legal procedure with suspected felons. We do.”
“Just give it to him,” Wengert repeated.
Cramer was glaring at Wolfe. “What you know about legal procedures. Okay. Yesterday you sent Goodwin to see Delia Devlin. In your name he offered her ten thousand dollars to testify falsely that she saw Fifi Goheen take the pillbox from the table, remove a capsule and replace it with another, and put the box back on the table. He said the money would be supplied by Mr. and Mrs. Rackell and would be handed her in currency after she had so testified. I shouldn’t have said subornation of perjury, I should have said attempt. Now do I ask Goodwin some questions?”
“I’d like to ask him one myself.” Wolfe’s eyes moved. “Archie. Is what Mr. Cramer just said true?”
“No, sir.”
“Then don’t answer questions. A policeman has no right to make an inaccurate statement to a citizen about his actions and then order him to answer questions about it.” He went to Cramer. “We could drag this out interminably. Why not resolve it sensibly and conclusively?” He came to me. “Archie, get Miss Devlin on the phone and ask her to come down here at once.”
I turned and started to dial.
“Cut it, Goodwin,” Wengert snapped. I went on dialing. Cramer, who can move when he wants to, left his chair and was by me, pushing down the button. I cocked my head to look up at him. He scowled down at me. I put it back in the cradle. He returned to his chair.
“Then we’ll have to change the subject,” Wolfe said dryly. “Surely your position is untenable. You want to bullyrag us for what Mr. Goodwin, as my agent, said to Miss Devlin; the first thing to establish is what was actually said; and the only satisfactory way to establish it is to have them both here. Yet you not only didn’t bring her with you, you are even determined that we shall not communicate with her. Obviously you don’t want her to know what’s going on. It’s quite preposterous, but I draw no conclusion. It’s hard to believe that the New York police and the FBI would conspire to bamboozle a citizen, even me.”
Cramer was reddening up again.
Wengert cleared his throat. “Look, Wolfe,” he said, not belligerently, “we’re here to talk sense.”
“Good. Why not start?”
“I am. The interest of the people and government of the United States is involved in this case. My job is to protect that interest. I know you and Goodwin can keep your mouths shut when you want to. I am now talking off the record. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Goodwin?”
“Good here.”
“See that you keep it good. Arthur Rackell told his aunt that he was working with the FBI. That was a lie. He was either a member of the Communist party or a fellow traveler, we’re not sure which. We don’t know who he told, besides his aunt, that he was with the FBI, but we’re working on it and so are the police. He may have been killed by a Communist who heard it somehow and believed it. There were other motives, personal ones, but the Communist angle comes first until and unless it’s ruled out. So you can see why we’re in on it. The public interest is involved, not only of this city and state but the whole country. You see that?”
“I saw it,” Wolfe muttered, “when I sent Mr. Goodwin to see you day before yesterday.”
“We’ll skip that.” Wengert didn’t want to offend. “The point is, what about you? I concede that all you’re after is to catch the murderer and collect a fee. But we know you sent Goodwin to Miss Devlin yesterday to offer to pay her to say that she saw Miss Goheen in the act. We also know that you are not likely to pull such a stunt just for the hell of it. You knew exactly what you were doing and why you were doing it. You say you have regard for the public interest. All right, the inspector here represents it, and so do I, and we want you to open up for us. We confidently expect you to. What and whom are you after, and where does that stunt get you?”
Wolfe was regarding him sympathetically through half-closed eyes. “You’re not a nincompoop, Mr. Wengert.” The eyes moved. “Nor you, Mr. Cramer.”
“That’s something,” Cramer growled.
“It is indeed, considering the average. But your coming here to put this to me, either peremptorily or politely, was ill considered. Shall I explain?”
“If it’s not too much bother.”
“I’ll be as brief as possible. Let us make a complex supposition — that I got Mr. and Mrs. Rackell’s permission for an extraordinary disbursement for a stated purpose; that I sent Mr. Goodwin to see Miss Devlin; that he told her I had concluded that Miss Goheen had murdered Arthur Rackell and she had seen the act; that I suggested that she should inform the police of the fact; and that, as compensation for her embarrassment and distress, I engaged to pay her a large sum of money which would be provided by Mr. and Mrs. Rackell.”
Wolfe upturned a palm. “Supposing I did that, it was not an attempt to suborn perjury, since it cannot be shown that I intended her to swear falsely, but certainly I was exposing myself to a claim for damages from Miss Goheen. That was a calculated risk I had to take, and whether the calculation was sound depended on the event. There was also a risk of being charged with obstruction of justice, and that too depended on the event. Should it prove to serve justice instead of obstructing it, and should Miss Goheen suffer no unmerited damage, I would be fully justified. I hope to be. I expect to be.”
“Then you can—”
“If you please. But suppose, having done all that, I now admit it to you and tell you my calculations and intentions. Then you’ll either have to try to head me off or be in it with me. It would be jackassery for you to head me off — take my word for it; it would be unthinkable. But it would also be unthinkable for you to be in it, either actively or passively. Whatever the outcome may be, you cannot afford to be associated with an offer to pay a large sum of money to a person involved in a murder case for disclosing a fact, even an authentic one. Your positions forbid it. I’m a private citizen and can stand it; you can’t. What the devil did you come here for? If I’m headed for defeat, opprobrium, and punishment, then I am. Why dash up here only to get yourselves confronted with unthinkable alternatives?”
Wolfe fluttered a hand. “Luckily, this is just talk. I was merely discussing a complex supposition. To return to reality, I will be glad to give you gentlemen any information that you may properly require — and Mr. Goodwin too, of course. So?”
They looked at each other. Cramer let out a snort. Wengert pulled at his ear and gazed at me, and I returned the gaze, open-faced and perfectly innocent. He found that not helpful and transferred to Wolfe.
“You called the turn,” he said, “when you told Goodwin to phone Miss Devlin. I should have foreseen that. That was dumb.”
The phone rang, and I swiveled and got it. “Nero Wolfe’s office, Archie Goodwin speaking.”
“This is Rattner.”
“Oh, hello. Keep it down, my ears are sensitive.”
“Durkin sent me to phone so he could stay on the subject. The subject came out of the house at seven nineteen East Fifty-first Street at eleven forty-one. He was alone. He walked to Lexington and around the corner to a drugstore and is in there now in a phone booth. I’m across the street in a restaurant. Any instructions?”
“Not a thing, thank you. Give my love to the family.”
“Right.”
It clicked off, and I hung up and swiveled back to rejoin the party, but apparently it was over. They were on their feet, and Wengert was turning to go. Cramer was saying, “… but it’s not all off the record. I just want that understood.”
He turned and followed Wengert out. I saw no point in dashing past them out to the door, since two grown men should be up to turning a knob and pulling, but I stepped to the hall to observe. When they were outside and the door closed I went back in and remarked to Wolfe, “Very neat. But what if they had let me phone her?”
He made a face. “Pfui. If they had got it from her they wouldn’t have called on me. They would have sent for you, possibly with a warrant. That was one of the contingencies.”
“They might have let me phone her anyway.”
“Unlikely, since that would have disclosed their knowledge — to her and therefore to anyone — and betrayed their informant. But if they had, while she was on her way I would have proceeded with them, and they would have left before she arrived.”
I put the yellow chair back in place. “All the same I’m glad they didn’t and so are you. That was Rattner on the phone, reporting for Fred. Heath was with Miss Devlin an hour and four minutes. He left at eleven forty-one and was in a phone booth in a drugstore when Rattner called.”
“Satisfactory.” He picked up his pencil and bent over the crossword puzzle with a little sigh.