year.
All
women, however brief the contact and regardless of its nature. May I have it soon? Say by tomorrow evening?”
Three of them spoke at once, but Leo Bingham’s baritone smothered the others. “That’s a big order,” he said. “Dick Valdon got around.”
“Not only that,” Julian Haft said, “but there’s the question, what’s the procedure? There are eight or nine girls and women in my office Dick had
some
contact with. What are you going to do with the names we list?”
“There are four in my office,” Willis Krug said.
“Look,” Manuel Upton croaked. “You’ll have to tell us about the allegations.”
Wolfe was drinking beer. He put the empty glass down. “To serve the purpose,” he said, “the lists must be all-inclusive. They will be used with discretion. No one will be pestered; no offense will be given; no rumors will be started; no prying curiosity will be aroused. Very few of the owners of the names will be addressed at all. Inferences I have drawn from indications in the letters limit the range of possibilities. You have my firm assurance that you will have no cause for regret that you have done this favor for Mrs. Valdon, with this single qualification: if it should transpire that the writer of the letters is one for whom you have regard,she will of course be vexed and possibly frustrated. That will be your only risk. Have some brandy, Mr. Bingham.”
Bingham rose and went for the bottle. “Payola.” He poured. “It’s a bribe.” He took a sip. “But what a bribe!” The big smile.
“I want to hear about the allegations,” Upton croaked.
Wolfe shook his head. “That would violate a firm assurance I have given my client. Not discussible.”
“She’s my client too,” Krug said. “I was Dick’s agent, and now I’m hers since she owns the copyrights. Also I’m her friend, and I’m against anyone who sends anonymous letters, no matter who. I’ll get the list to you tomorrow.”
“Hell, I’m hooked,” Leo Bingham said. He was standing, twirling the cognac in the snifter. “I’ve been bribed.” He turned to Wolfe. “How about a deal? If you get her from my list I get a bottle of this.”
“No, sir. Not by engagement. As a gesture of appreciation perhaps.”
Julian Haft had removed his balloon-tired cheaters and was fingering the bows. “The letters,” he said. “Were they mailed in New York? The city?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then you have the envelopes?”
“Yes, sir.”
“May we see them—just the envelopes? You say the writing is disguised, but it might—one of us might get a hint from it.”
Wolfe nodded. “Therefore it would be ill-advised to show them to you. One of you might indeed get a hint of the identity of the writer but not divulge it, and that might complicate the problem for me.”
“I have a question,” Manuel Upton croaked. “I’ve heard that there’s a baby in Mrs. Valdon’s house, and a nurse for it. I know nothing about it, but the person who told me isn’t a windbag. Is there any connection between the baby and the letters?”
Wolfe was frowning at him. “A baby? Mrs. Valdon’s baby?”
“I didn’t say her baby. I said there’s a baby in her house.”
“Indeed. I’ll ask her, Mr. Upton. If it is somehow connected with the letters she must be aware of it. By the way, I have advised her to mention the letters to no one. No exceptions. As you gentlemen know, she didn’t mention them to you. The matter is in my hands.”
“All right, handle it.” Upton got to his feet. His weight was just about half of Wolfe’s, but from the effort it took to get it up from a chair it might have been the other way around. “From the way you’re handling us, or trying to, you’ll hash it up. I don’t owe Lucy Valdon anything. If she wants a favor from me she can ask me.”
He headed for the door, jostling Leo Bingham’s elbow as he passed, and Bingham’s other hand darted out and gave him a shove. Because a guest is a
All
women, however brief the contact and regardless of its nature. May I have it soon? Say by tomorrow evening?”
Three of them spoke at once, but Leo Bingham’s baritone smothered the others. “That’s a big order,” he said. “Dick Valdon got around.”
“Not only that,” Julian Haft said, “but there’s the question, what’s the procedure? There are eight or nine girls and women in my office Dick had
some
contact with. What are you going to do with the names we list?”
“There are four in my office,” Willis Krug said.
“Look,” Manuel Upton croaked. “You’ll have to tell us about the allegations.”
Wolfe was drinking beer. He put the empty glass down. “To serve the purpose,” he said, “the lists must be all-inclusive. They will be used with discretion. No one will be pestered; no offense will be given; no rumors will be started; no prying curiosity will be aroused. Very few of the owners of the names will be addressed at all. Inferences I have drawn from indications in the letters limit the range of possibilities. You have my firm assurance that you will have no cause for regret that you have done this favor for Mrs. Valdon, with this single qualification: if it should transpire that the writer of the letters is one for whom you have regard,she will of course be vexed and possibly frustrated. That will be your only risk. Have some brandy, Mr. Bingham.”
Bingham rose and went for the bottle. “Payola.” He poured. “It’s a bribe.” He took a sip. “But what a bribe!” The big smile.
“I want to hear about the allegations,” Upton croaked.
Wolfe shook his head. “That would violate a firm assurance I have given my client. Not discussible.”
“She’s my client too,” Krug said. “I was Dick’s agent, and now I’m hers since she owns the copyrights. Also I’m her friend, and I’m against anyone who sends anonymous letters, no matter who. I’ll get the list to you tomorrow.”
“Hell, I’m hooked,” Leo Bingham said. He was standing, twirling the cognac in the snifter. “I’ve been bribed.” He turned to Wolfe. “How about a deal? If you get her from my list I get a bottle of this.”
“No, sir. Not by engagement. As a gesture of appreciation perhaps.”
Julian Haft had removed his balloon-tired cheaters and was fingering the bows. “The letters,” he said. “Were they mailed in New York? The city?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then you have the envelopes?”
“Yes, sir.”
“May we see them—just the envelopes? You say the writing is disguised, but it might—one of us might get a hint from it.”
Wolfe nodded. “Therefore it would be ill-advised to show them to you. One of you might indeed get a hint of the identity of the writer but not divulge it, and that might complicate the problem for me.”
“I have a question,” Manuel Upton croaked. “I’ve heard that there’s a baby in Mrs. Valdon’s house, and a nurse for it. I know nothing about it, but the person who told me isn’t a windbag. Is there any connection between the baby and the letters?”
Wolfe was frowning at him. “A baby? Mrs. Valdon’s baby?”
“I didn’t say her baby. I said there’s a baby in her house.”
“Indeed. I’ll ask her, Mr. Upton. If it is somehow connected with the letters she must be aware of it. By the way, I have advised her to mention the letters to no one. No exceptions. As you gentlemen know, she didn’t mention them to you. The matter is in my hands.”
“All right, handle it.” Upton got to his feet. His weight was just about half of Wolfe’s, but from the effort it took to get it up from a chair it might have been the other way around. “From the way you’re handling us, or trying to, you’ll hash it up. I don’t owe Lucy Valdon anything. If she wants a favor from me she can ask me.”
He headed for the door, jostling Leo Bingham’s elbow as he passed, and Bingham’s other hand darted out and gave him a shove. Because a guest is a
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