I put my eye on Koven. The gun was in my left hand, and my right hand was a fist. If I had hit him that first second, which I nearly did, mad as I was, I would have cracked some knuckles.
“What’s the matter?” he demanded.
My eyes were on him and through him. I kept them there for five pulse beats. It wasn’t possible, I decided, that he was that good. Nobody could be.
I backed up a pace. “We’ve found your gun.”
He gawked at me. “What?”
I broke it, saw that the cylinder was empty, and held it out. “Take a look.”
He took it. “It looks the same — no, it doesn’t.”
“Certainly it doesn’t. Mine was clean and bright. Is it yours?”
“I don’t know. It looks like it. But how in the name of God—”
I reached and took it from him. “How do you think?” I was so damn mad I nearly stuttered. “Someone with hands took mine out and put yours in. It could have been you. Was it?”
“No. Me?” Suddenly he got indignant. “How the hell could it have been me when I didn’t know where mine was?”
“You said you didn’t. I ought to stretch you out and tamp you down. Keeping me here the whole goddam day, and now this! If you ever talk straight and to the point, now is the time. Did you touch my gun?”
“No. But you’re—”
“Do you know who did?”
“No. But you’re—”
“Shut up!” I went around the desk to the phone, lifted it, and dialed. At that hour Wolfe would be up in the plant rooms for his afternoon shift with the orchids, where he was not to be disturbed except in emergency, but this was one. When Fritz answered I asked him to buzz the extension, and in a moment I had Wolfe.
“Yes, Archie?” Naturally he was peevish.
“Sorry to bother you, but. I’m at Koven’s. I put my gun in his desk, and we were all set for his stunt, but he kept putting it off until now. His will power sticks and has to be primed with alcohol. I roamed around. We just came in here where his desk is, and I opened the drawer for a look. Someone has taken my gun and substituted his — his that was stolen, you know? It’s back where it belongs, but mine is gone.”
“You shouldn’t have left it there.”
“Okay, you can have that, and you sure will, but I need instructions for now. Three choices: I can call a cop, or I can bring the whole bunch down there to you, don’t think I can’t the way I feel, or I can handle it myself. Which?”
“Confound it, not the police. They would enjoy it too much. And why bring them here? The gun’s there, not here.”
“Then that leaves me. I go ahead?”
“Certainly — with due discretion. It’s a prank.” He chuckled. “I would like to see your face. Try to get home for dinner.” He hung up.
“My God, don’t call a cop!” Koven protested.
“I don’t intend to,” I said grimly. I slipped his gun into my armpit holster. “Not if I can help it. It depends partly on you. You stay put, right here. I’m going down and get them. Your wife’s asleep in the bedroom. If I find when I get back that you’ve gone and started chatting with her I’ll either slap you down with your own gun or phone the police, I don’t know which, maybe both. Stay put.”
“This is my house, Goodwin, and—”
“Goddam it, don’t you know a raving maniac when you see one?” I tapped my chest with a forefinger. “Me. When I’m as sore as I am now the safest thing would be for you to call a cop. I want my gun.”
As I made for the door he was reaching for the bottle. By the time I got down to the ground floor I had myself well enough in hand to speak to them without betraying any special urgency, telling them that Koven was ready for them upstairs, for the conference. I found Pat Lowell still at the desk in the room in front and Hildebrand and Jordan still at their drawing tables in the workroom. I even replied appropriately when Pat Lowell asked how I had made out with the coconut. As Hildebrand and Jordan left their tables and turned off their radios I had a keener eye on them than before; someone here had swiped my gun. As we ascended the first flight of stairs, with me in the rear, I asked their backs where I would find Adrian Getz.
Pat Lowell answered. “He may be in his room on the top floor.” They halted at the landing, the edge of the big square hall, and I joined them. We could hear the radio going upstairs. She indicated the room to the left. “He takes his afternoon nap in there with Rookaloo, but not this late usually.”
I thought I might as well glance in, and moved to the archway. A draft of cold air hit me, and I went on in. A window was wide open! I marched over and closed it, then went to take a look at the monkey. It was huddled on the floor in a corner of the cage, making angry little noises, with something clutched in its fingers against its chest. The light was dim, but I have good eyes, and not only was the something unmistakably a gun, but it was my Marley on a bet. Needing light, and looking for a wall switch, I was passing the large couch which faced the fireplace when suddenly I stopped and froze. Adrian Getz, the Squirt, was lying on the couch but he wasn’t taking a nap.
I bent over him for a close-up and saw a hole in his skull northeast of his right ear, and some red juice. I stuck a hand inside the V of his vest and flattened it against him and held my breath for eight seconds. He was through taking naps.
I straightened up and called, “Come in here, all three of you, and switch on a light as you come!”
They appeared through the archway, and one of them put a hand to the wall. Lights shone. The back of the couch hid Getz from their view as they approached.
“It’s cold in here,” Pat Lowell was saying. “Did you open another—”
Seeing Getz stopped her, and the others too. They goggled.
“Don’t touch him,” I warned them. “He’s dead, so you can’t help him any. Don’t touch anything. You three stay here together, right here in this room, while I—”
“Christ Almighty,” Pete Jordan blurted. Hildebrand squeaked something. Pat Lowell put out a hand, found the couch back, and gripped it. She asked something, but I wasn’t listening. I was at the cage, with my back to them, peering at the monkey. It was my Marley the monkey was clutching. I had to curl my fingers until the nails sank in to keep from opening the cage door and grabbing that gun.
I whirled. “Stick here together. Understand?” I was on my way. “I’m going up and phone.”
Ignoring their noises, I left them. I mounted the stairs in no hurry, because if I had been a raving maniac before, I was now stiff with fury and I needed a few seconds to get under control. In the room upstairs Harry Koven was still seated at the desk, staring at the open drawer. He looked up and fired a question at me but got no answer. I went to the phone, lifted it, and dialed a number. When I got Wolfe he started to sputter at being disturbed again.
“I’m sorry,” I told him, “but I wish to report that I have found my gun. It’s in the cage with the monkey, who is—”
“What monkey?”
“Its name is Rookaloo, but please don’t interrupt. It is holding my gun to its breast, I suspect because it is cold and the gun is warm, having recently been fired. Lying there on a couch is the body of a man, Adrian Getz, with a bullet hole in the head. It is no longer a question whether I call a cop, I merely wanted to report the situation to you before I do so. A thousand to one Getz was shot and killed with my gun. I will not be — hold it—”
I dropped the phone and jumped. Koven had made a dive for the door. I caught him before he reached it, got an arm and his chin, and heaved. There was a lot of feeling in it, and big as he was he sailed to a wall, bounced off, and went to the floor.
“I would love to do it again,” I said, meaning it, and returned to the phone and told Wolfe, “Excuse me, Koven tried to interrupt. I was only going to say I will not be home to dinner.”
“The man is dead.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Have you anything satisfactory for the police?”
“Sure. My apologies for bringing my gun here to oblige a murderer. That’s all.”
“We haven’t answered today’s mail.”
“I know. It’s a damn shame. I’ll get away as soon as I can.”
“Very well.”
The connection went. I held the button down a moment, with an eye on Koven, who was upright again but not asking for an encore, then released it and dialed RE 7–5260.