Wolfe can move when he wants to. I have seen him prove it more than once, as he did then. By the time I was back in the office, following Cramer, he had scattered in front of him on his desk pads of paper, pencils, and a dozen folders of plant germination records for which he had had to go to the filing cabinet. One of the folders was spread open, and he was scowling at us above it. He grunted a greeting but not a welcome. Cramer grunted back, moved to the red leather chair, and planted himself in it.
I got myself at my desk. I was wishing I wasn’t involved so I could just enjoy it. If Wolfe succeeded in keeping Cramer’s claws off of the Vardas family and at the same time kept himself out of jail I would show my appreciation by not hitting him for a raise for at least a month.
Fritz entered with a tray, so Wolfe had found time to push a buttom too. It was the fixed allotment, three bottles of beer. Wolfe, getting the opener from his drawer, told Fritz to bring another glass, but Cramer said no thanks.
Suddenly Cramer looked at me and demanded, “Where did you go when you left the barber shop?”
My brows went up. “Just like that?”
“Yes.”
“Well, then. If you really cared you could have put a tail on me. If you didn’t care enough to put a tail on me you’re just being nosy, and I resent it. Next question.”
“Why not answer that one?”
“Because some of the errands I get sent on are confidential, and I don’t want to start a bad habit.”
Cramer turned abruptly to Wolfe. “You know a police officer was killed this morning there in that shop.”
“Yes.” Wolfe halted a foaming glass on its way to his mouth. “Archie told me about it.”
“Maybe he did.”
“Not maybe. He did.”
“Okay.” Cramer cocked his head and watched Wolfe empty the glass and use his handkerchief on his lips. Then he said, “Look. This is what brought me here. I have learned over a stretch of years that when I find you within a mile of a murder, and Goodwin is a part of you, something fancy can be expected. I don’t need to itemize that; your memory is as good as mine. Wait a second, let me finish. I don’t say there’s no such thing as a coincidence. I know you’ve been going to that shop for two years, and Goodwin for six years. It wouldn’t be so remarkable if he happened in there this particular day, two hours after a murder, if it wasn’t for certain features. He told Graboff, his barber, that he needed an emergency shave to go to an appointment. Incidentally, it couldn’t have been much of an emergency, since he waited nearly half an hour while Graboff finished with a customer, but I might concede that. The point is that Graboff and Fickler both say that in the six years Goodwin has been going there he has never gone just for a shave. Not once. He goes only for the works, haircut, scalp massage, shampoo, and shave. That makes it too remarkable. Just one day in six years an emergency sends him there for a shave, and this is the day. I don’t believe it.”
Wolfe shrugged. “Then you don’t. I’m not responsible for your credulity quotient, Mr. Cramer. Neither is Mr. Goodwin. I don’t see how we can help you.”
“Nobody would believe it,” Cramer said stubbornly, refusing to get riled. “That’s why I’m here. I do believe that Goodwin went to that shop because he knew a man had been murdered there.”
“Then you believe wrong,” I told him. “Your credulity quotient needs an overhaul. Until I got there I hadn’t the slightest idea or suspicion that a man had been murdered, there or anywhere else.”
“You have been known to lie, Goodwin.”
“Only within limits, and I know what they are. I will state that in an affidavit. Write it out, and there’s a notary at the corner drugstore. That would be perjury, which I’m allergic to.”
“Your going there had nothing whatever to do with the murder?”
“Put it that way if you prefer it. It did not.”
Wolfe was pouring beer. “How,” he inquired, not belligerently, “was Mr. Goodwin supposed to have learned of the murder? Had you fitted that in?”
“I don’t know.” Cramer gestured impatiently. “I didn’t come here with a diagram. I only know what it means, what it always has meant, when I’m on a homicide, which is what I work at, and suddenly there you are, or Goodwin. And there Goodwin was, two hours after it happened, and I asked some questions and I can take only so much coincidence. Frankly I have no idea where you come in. You work only for big money. That hit-and-run driver could be a man with money, but if so it couldn’t be someone who works in that shop. No one there has the kind of dough that hires Nero Wolfe. So I don’t see how it could be money that pulled you in, and I frankly admit I have no idea what else could. I guess I’ll have a little beer after all, if you don’t mind. I’m tired.”
Wolfe leaned forward to push the button.
“What was on my mind,” Cramer said, “was two things. First, I did not believe that Goodwin just happened to drop in at the scene of a murder. I admit he’s not quite brazen enough to commit perjury.” He looked at me. “I want that affidavit. Today. Word it yourself, but say it right.”
“You’ll get it,” I assured him.
“Today.”
“Yep.”
“Don’t forget it.”
Fritz entered with another tray, put it down on the little table at Cramer’s elbow, and uncapped the bottle. “Shall I pour, sir?”
“Thanks, I will.” Cramer took the glass in his left hand, tilted it, and poured with his right. Unlike Wolfe, he didn’t care for a lot of foam. “Second,” he said, “I thought that what took Goodwin there might be something you would be ready to tell me about, but he wouldn’t because you’re the boss and he’s such a goddam clam unless you say the word. I don’t pretend to have anything to pry it out of you with. You know the law about withholding evidence as well as I do, you ought to by this time, the stunts you’ve pulled—”
The foam was down to where he liked it, and he stopped to take a swig.
“You thought,” Wolfe asked, “that I had sent Archie to the shop on business?”
Cramer ran his tongue over his lips. “Yes. For the reason given. I still think so.”
“You’re wrong. I didn’t. Since you’re to get an affidavit from Archie, you might as well have one from me too and get it settled. In it I will say that I did not send him to the barber shop, that I did not know he was going there, and that I heard and knew nothing of the murder until he returned and told me.”
“You’ll swear to that?”
“As a favor to you, yes. You’ve wasted your time coming here, and you might as well get a little something out of it.” Wolfe reached for his second bottle. “By the way, I still don’t know why you came. According to Archie, the murderer is known and all you have to do is find him — that man at the clothes rack — uh, Carl. And his wife, you said, Archie?”
“Yes, sir. Tina, one of the manicures. Purley told me straight they had done it and scooted.”
Wolfe frowned at Cramer. “Then what could you expect to get from me? How could I help?”
“What I said, that’s all,” Cramer insisted doggedly, pouring the rest of his beer. “When I see Goodwin poking around I want to know why.”
“I don’t believe it,” Wolfe said rudely. He turned to me. “Archie. I think you’re responsible for this. You’re brash and you talk too much. I think it was something you did or said. What was it?”
“Sure, it’s always me.” I was hurt. “What I did, I got a shave, and Ed had a customer and I had to wait, so I talked with Purley and looked at a magazine — no, I started to but didn’t — and with Inspector Cramer and then with Janet, Miss Stahl to you, and with Ed while I was in the chair — that is, he talked—”
“What did you say to Mr. Cramer?”
“Practically nothing. Just answered a civil question.”
“What did you say to Mr. Stebbins?”
I thought I knew now where he was headed and hoped to God I was right. “Oh, just asked what was going on, and he told me. I’ve told you about it.”
“Not verbatim. What did you say?”
“Nothing, damn it! Of course Purley wanted to know what brought me there, and I told him I — say, wait a minute! Maybe you’re right at that! He asked me if I had seen Carl or Tina this morning, and I said sure, I had put them here in the front room and told them to wait, and if he would step on it—”
“Ha!” Wolfe snorted. “I knew it! Your confounded tongue. So that’s it.” He looked at Cramer. “Why have you waited to pounce?” he asked, trying not to sound too contemptuous, for after all Cramer was drinking his beer. “Since Archie has rashly disclosed our little secret, it would be useless for me to try to keep it. That’s what we use the front room for mainly, to keep murderers in. You’re armed, I suppose? Go in and get them. Archie, open the door for him.”
I went to the door to the front room and pulled it open, not too wide. “I’m scared of murderers myself,” I said courteously, “or I’d be glad to help.”
Cramer had a glass half full of beer in his hand, and it may well be that that took the trick. Bullheaded as he was, he might have been capable of getting up and walking over for a look into the room, even though our build-up had convinced him it was empty, not caring how much we would enjoy it or how silly he would look coming out. But the glass of beer complicated it. He would either have to take it with him or reach first to put it down on the little table — or throw it at Wolfe.
“Nuts,” he said and lifted the glass to drink.
I swung the door to carelessly, without bothering to see that it latched, and yawned on the way back to my chair.
“At least,” Wolfe said, rubbing it in, “I can’t be jailed for harboring a fugitive — one of your favorite threats. But I really don’t know what you’re after. If it was those two you’ll get them, of course. What else is there?”
“Nothing but a little more evidence.” Cramer glanced at his wristwatch. “I’ll get down to my office. That’s where I started for, and this was on the way so I thought I’d stop to see what you had to say. We’ll get ’em all right. It don’t pay to kill a cop in this town.” He stood up. “It wouldn’t pay for anyone to hide a cop-killer in their front room, either. Thanks for the beer. I’ll be expecting those affidavits, and in case—”
The phone rang. I swiveled and got it. “Nero Wolfe’s office, Archie Goodwin speaking.”
“Inspector Cramer there?”
I said yes, hold it. “For you,” I told him and moved aside, and he came and took it. He spoke not more than twenty words altogether, between spells of listening. He dropped the phone onto the cradle, growled something about more trouble, and headed for the door.
“Have they found ’em?” I asked his back.
“No.” He didn’t turn. “Someone’s hurt-the Stahl girl.”
I marched after him, thinking the least I could do was cooperate by opening another door for him, but he was there and on out before I caught up, so I about-faced and returned to the office.
Wolfe was standing up, and I wondered why all the exertion, but a glance at the wall clock showed me 3:55, nearly time for his afternoon visit to the plant rooms.
“He said Janet got hurt,” I stated.
Wolfe, finishing the last of his beer, grunted.
“I owe Janet something. Besides, it could mean that Carl and Tina are out of it. We ought to know, and they would like to know. I don’t usually get shaved twice a day, but there’s no law against it. I can be there in ten minutes. Why not?”
“No.” He put the glass down. “We’ll see.”
“I don’t feel like we’ll seeing. I need to do something. I lost ten pounds in ten seconds, standing there holding that doorknob, trying to look as if it would be fun to watch him coming to look in. If it wasn’t for our guests I almost wish he had, just to see what you would do, not to mention me. I’ve got to do something now.”
“There’s nothing to do.” He looked at the clock and moved. “Put those folders back, please?” Halfway to the door he turned. “Disturb me only if it is unavoidable. And admit no more displaced persons to the house. Two at a time is enough.”
“It was you who fed—” I began with feeling, but he was gone. In a moment I heard the sound of his elevator.
I put the folders away and took the beer remains to the kitchen and then went to the front room. Tina, who was lying on the couch, sat up as I entered and saw to her skirt hem. She had nice legs, but my mind was occupied. Carl, on a chair near the foot of the couch, stood up and asked a string of questions with his eyes.
“As you were,” I told them gruffly. I heartily agreed with Wolfe that two was enough. “I hope you didn’t go near the windows?”
“We have learned so long ago to stay away from windows,” Carl said. “But we want to go. We will pay the fifty dollars gladly.”
“You can’t go.” I was irritated and emphatic. “That was Inspector Cramer, a very important policeman. We told him you were in here, and so—”
“You told him—” Tina gasped.
“Yes. It’s the Hitler-Stalin technique in reverse. They tell barefaced lies to have them taken for the truth, and we told the barefaced truth to have it taken for a lie. It worked. You were within a hair’s breadth of getting flushed, and I’ll never be the same again, but it worked. So now we’re stuck, and you are too. You stay here. We’ve told the cops you’re in this room, and you’re not going to leave it, at least not until bedtime. I’m locking you in.” I pointed to a door. “That’s a bathroom, and there’s a glass if you want a drink. It has another door into the office, but I’ll lock it. The windows have bars.”
I crossed to the door to the hall and locked it with my master key. I went through to the office, entered the bathroom in the corner, turned the bolt flange on the door to the front room, opened the door an inch, returned to the office, locked that door with my key, and went back to the front room. Carl and Tina, speaking in low tones, fell silent as I entered.
“All set,” I told them. “Make yourselves comfortable. If you need anything don’t yell, this room is soundproofed; push this button.” I put my finger on it, under the edge of the table. “I’ll give you the news as soon as there is any.” I was going.
“But this is hanging in the air on a thread,” Carl protested.
“You’re damn right it is,” I agreed grimly. “Your only hope is that Mr. Wolfe has now put his foot in it, and it’s up to him to get both you and him loose, not to mention me. He can’t possibly do it, which is an advantage, because the only things he ever really strains himself on are those that can’t be done. The next two hours are time out. He doesn’t let anything interfere with his afternoon session, from four to six, with his orchids up on the roof. By the way, there is a small gleam. Inspector Cramer beat it back to the shop because he got a phone call that Janet had been hurt. If she got hurt with scissors with you not there, it may be a real break.”
“Janet?” Tina was distressed. “Was she hurt much?”
I looked at her suspiciously. Surely that was phony. But she looked as if she really meant it. Maybe with some people who have been hurt plenty and often themselves, that’s the way they react when someone else gets it, someone they know.
“I don’t know,” I said, “and I’m not going to try to find out. Curiosity can be justified only up to a point, and this is no time to stretch it. We’ll have to sit it out, at least until six o’clock.” I glanced at my wrist. “That’s only an hour and twenty minutes. Then we’ll see if Mr. Wolfe has cooked up a charade. If not, he may at least invite you to dinner. See you later.”
As I turned to go Carl sprang and broke my neck.
I have had enough unpleasant surprises over the years so that I am never completely off guard, but I admit I was careless that time because I underestimated him. He was a full three inches and thirty pounds under me, but I should have known that a guy who had managed a getaway from a concentration camp, and also from a continent, must have learned some good tricks. He had. The one he tried on me took him off the floor and through the air at my back, got his knees in my spine and his arm hooked under my chin. I was careless, but not quite careless enough. I heard and felt his rush too late to wheel or step, but in time to arch my back and drop my chin. He fastened onto me piggyback, and his muscles were a real surprise.
If he was that quick on the spring he might be just as quick with his left hand getting out a knife, so I didn’t try to get subtle. I bent my knees, called on my legs for all they had, jumped straight up as high as I could with him on me, jerked backwards in the air to horizontal, and hit the floor — or he did, with me on top. It squashed air out of him and jolted his arm loose. I bounced off to the right, got my feet under me, and came up, facing Tina in case she was prepared to help.
She wasn’t. She was just standing there, frozen, with no blood left in her, anyway not in her face. I moved my head a little from left to right and then slowly in a circle. “I thought he broke my neck,” I told her, “but he didn’t. He only tried to.”
She had no comment. Carl was on the floor, pulling air in for replacement. I stepped to him, reached down for his arm, yanked him upright, and went over him good. The only tool he had was a pocket knife with two little blades.
I backed up a step and remarked, “You act on impulse, don’t you?”
“I couldn’t break your neck,” he said, as if his feelings were hurt. “You’re too strong.”
“You sure could try.”
“No. I only wanted to go. If we stay here there is no hope. It would have made you numb, that was all.”
“Yeah. Napoleon’s been numb for over a century. I hope your ribs hurt. If so, think of me.”
I went to the door to the office, passed through, closed the door, and locked it. There in privacy I took a survey, physical and mental. It was no pleasure to move my head, especially backward, but it did move. My back was sore where his knees had hit it, but some assorted twisting and bending proved that all the joints worked without cracking. I sat at my desk for the mental part. Getting my neck broke, or damn near it, had cleared my brain. Being smart enough to get it in that neither Carl nor Tina could drive a car was all right as far as it went, but it proved nothing at all about the scissors in Jake Wallen’s back; it merely showed that there are motives and motives. The cops thought Wallen had been killed by a cornered hit-and-run driver, but what did I think? And even more important, what did Wolfe think? Was he up ahead of me as usual, or was he being too offhand, since no fee was involved, and maybe letting us in for a bloody nose?
I sat and surveyed and got so dissatisfied that I rang the plant rooms, told Wolfe about Carl’s attempt to numb me, and tried to go on from there, but he brushed me off and said it could wait until six o’clock. I sat some more, practiced moving my head in various directions, and then got up to do back exercises. I was bending to touch the floor with my fingers when the phone rang.
It was Sergeant Purley Stebbins. “Archie? Purley. I’m at the barber shop. We want you here quick.”
Two things told me it was no hostile mandate: his tone and the “Archie.” The nature of my encounters with him usually had him calling me Goodwin, but occasionally it was Archie.
I responded in kind. “I’m busy but I guess so. If you really want me. Do you care to specify?”
“When you get here. You’re needed, that’s all. Grab a cab.”
I buzzed Wolfe on the house phone and reported the development. Then I got a gun from the drawer, went to the kitchen and gave it to Fritz, described the status of the guests, and told him to keep his eyes and ears open. Then I hopped.