haven’t told us, something about your husband, something that is or may be connected with his death, it was a mistake. So I want to know what you’ve said to him and what he said to you. All of it. You’ve been here nearly half an hour.”
For half a second I thought she was going to spill it, and she did too. My guess would be that what popped into her mind was the notion that the simplest and quickest way to see that room on 82nd Street would be to tell Cramer about it, and she might actually have acted on it if Wolfe’s voice hadn’t come at her from behind.
“I’ll return your retainer if you want it, madam.” “Oh,” she said. She didn’t turn. “I hired him to do something,” she told Cramer. “To do what?”
“To find out who killed my husband. You didn’t even find his body, and now all you do is follow me around, and this stuff about protecting me when there’s nothing to protect me from. If I had anything to tell anybody I’d tell him, not you.” She took a step. “Get out of the way; I’m going to see that man.”
“You’re making a mistake, Mrs. Yeager. I want to know what you said to Wolfe.”
“Ask him.” Seeing that Cramer wasn’t going to move, she circled around him, headed for the hall. I followed her out and to the front. As I reached for the knob she came close, stretched her neck to get her mouth near my ear, and whispered, “When will you take me to see that room?” I whispered back, “As soon as I get a chance.” I would have liked to stay at the door to see how she went about finding her tail, but if Cramer was going to blurt at Wolfe, “When did you take over that room on Eighty-second Street?” I wanted to be present, so I closed the door and went back to the office.
Cramer wasn’t blurting. He was in the red leather chair, the front half of it, with his feet planted flat. Wolfe was saying, “. . .
and that is moot. I’m not obliged to account to you for my acceptance of a retainer unless you charge interference with the performance of your official duty, and can support the charge.”
“I wouldn’t be here,” Cramer said, “if I couldn’t support it. It wasn’t just the report that Mrs. Yeager was here that brought me. That would be enough, finding that you were sticking your nose into a murder investigation, but that’s not all. I’m offering you a chance to cooperate by asking you a straight question: What information have you got about Yeager that might help to identify the person that killed him?”
So he knew about the room, and we were up a tree. I went to my desk and sat. It would be hard going, and probably the best thing for Wolfe to do would be to empty the bag and forget the clients.
He didn’t. He hung on. He shook his heac’ |You know better than that. Take a hypothesis. Suppose, for instance, that I have been informed in confidence that a certain person owed Yeager a large sum of money and Yeager was pressing for payment. That might help to identify the murderer, but I am not obliged to pass the information on to you unless I am confronted with evidence that it would help. Your question is straight enough, but it’s impertinent, and you know it.”
“You admit you have information.”
“I admit nothing. If I do have information the responsibility of deciding whether I am justified in withholding it is mine�and the risk.”
“Risk my ass. With your goddam luck, and you talk about risk. I’ll try a question that’s more specific and maybe it won’t be so impertinent. Why did Goodwin phone Lon Cohen at the Gazette at five o’clock Monday afternoon to ask for dope on Yeager, more than two hours before Yeager’s body was found?”
I tried to keep my face straight, and apparently succeeded, since Cramer has good eyes with a lot of experience with faces, and if my relief had shown he would have spotted it. Inside I was grinning. They hadn’t found the room, they had merely got a tip from some toad at the Gazette and had
For half a second I thought she was going to spill it, and she did too. My guess would be that what popped into her mind was the notion that the simplest and quickest way to see that room on 82nd Street would be to tell Cramer about it, and she might actually have acted on it if Wolfe’s voice hadn’t come at her from behind.
“I’ll return your retainer if you want it, madam.” “Oh,” she said. She didn’t turn. “I hired him to do something,” she told Cramer. “To do what?”
“To find out who killed my husband. You didn’t even find his body, and now all you do is follow me around, and this stuff about protecting me when there’s nothing to protect me from. If I had anything to tell anybody I’d tell him, not you.” She took a step. “Get out of the way; I’m going to see that man.”
“You’re making a mistake, Mrs. Yeager. I want to know what you said to Wolfe.”
“Ask him.” Seeing that Cramer wasn’t going to move, she circled around him, headed for the hall. I followed her out and to the front. As I reached for the knob she came close, stretched her neck to get her mouth near my ear, and whispered, “When will you take me to see that room?” I whispered back, “As soon as I get a chance.” I would have liked to stay at the door to see how she went about finding her tail, but if Cramer was going to blurt at Wolfe, “When did you take over that room on Eighty-second Street?” I wanted to be present, so I closed the door and went back to the office.
Cramer wasn’t blurting. He was in the red leather chair, the front half of it, with his feet planted flat. Wolfe was saying, “. . .
and that is moot. I’m not obliged to account to you for my acceptance of a retainer unless you charge interference with the performance of your official duty, and can support the charge.”
“I wouldn’t be here,” Cramer said, “if I couldn’t support it. It wasn’t just the report that Mrs. Yeager was here that brought me. That would be enough, finding that you were sticking your nose into a murder investigation, but that’s not all. I’m offering you a chance to cooperate by asking you a straight question: What information have you got about Yeager that might help to identify the person that killed him?”
So he knew about the room, and we were up a tree. I went to my desk and sat. It would be hard going, and probably the best thing for Wolfe to do would be to empty the bag and forget the clients.
He didn’t. He hung on. He shook his heac’ |You know better than that. Take a hypothesis. Suppose, for instance, that I have been informed in confidence that a certain person owed Yeager a large sum of money and Yeager was pressing for payment. That might help to identify the murderer, but I am not obliged to pass the information on to you unless I am confronted with evidence that it would help. Your question is straight enough, but it’s impertinent, and you know it.”
“You admit you have information.”
“I admit nothing. If I do have information the responsibility of deciding whether I am justified in withholding it is mine�and the risk.”
“Risk my ass. With your goddam luck, and you talk about risk. I’ll try a question that’s more specific and maybe it won’t be so impertinent. Why did Goodwin phone Lon Cohen at the Gazette at five o’clock Monday afternoon to ask for dope on Yeager, more than two hours before Yeager’s body was found?”
I tried to keep my face straight, and apparently succeeded, since Cramer has good eyes with a lot of experience with faces, and if my relief had shown he would have spotted it. Inside I was grinning. They hadn’t found the room, they had merely got a tip from some toad at the Gazette and had
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