Rex Stout - Nero Wolfe 41 by The Doorbell Rang Page B

was a box of cartridges, nearly full, in a drawer.”
    I sat and looked some more, then said, “So you
have
cracked it. Congratulations.”
    “You’d clown in the hot seat, Goodwin. Do I have to describe it?”
    “No. But, after all—Who saw them?”
    He shook his head. “I’ll give you everything but that. He couldn’t help you anyway. He saw them leavethe house and go to the car and drive off, and he got the license number. That’s how we know and all we know. We’re hogtied. Even if we could name them, where would that get us? I’ve seen plenty of murderers I could name, but so what, if I couldn’t prove it. But this one, that goddam outfit, I’d give a year’s pay to hook them and make it stick. This isn’t their town, it’s mine. Ours. The New York Police Department. They’ve had us gritting our teeth for years. Now, by God, they think they can break and enter people’s houses and commit homicide in
my
territory, and laugh at me!”
    “Did they? Laugh?”
    “Yes. I went to Sixty-ninth Street myself and saw Wragg. I told him that of course they had known that Althaus was collecting material for a piece, and maybe they had had a stake-out on him the night he was killed, and if so I would appreciate some cooperation. He said he would like to help if he could, but they had too many important things to do to bother about a hack muckraker. I didn’t tell him they had been seen. He
would
have laughed.”
    His jaw was working. “Of course it has been discussed in the Commissioner’s office. Several times. I’m hogtied. We wouldn’t like anything better than hanging it on that bunch of grabbers, but what have we got for a jury, and what could we get? So we lay off. So I say this: I’ll not only write a report on Wolfe and you for the Commissioner, I’ll see him and talk to him. I don’t think you’ll lose your licenses. But I won’t tell him about seeing you.”
    He rose and went to the bed and came back with his hat and coat. “You might as well finish the milk. And I hope that Mrs. Bruner gets her money’s worth.” He put out a hand. “Happy New Year.”
    “The same to you.” I got up and shook. “Could he identify them if it came to that?”
    “For God’s sake, Goodwin. Three against one?”
    “I know. But if it were needed just for a frill, could he?”
    “Possibly. He thinks he could. I’ve given you all I’ve got. Don’t come and don’t phone. Give me a few minutes to get out.” He started for the door, turned and said, “Give Wolfe my regards,” and went.
    I finished the milk standing up.

Chapter 5
    I t was twenty minutes past noon when I stepped out of the lobby of the Westside Hotel. I felt like walking. For one thing, I was still loose, and it was nice to walk without wondering if I had company. For another thing, I didn’t want to think hard on top, and when I walk the hard thinking, if any, is down where it doesn’t use words. And for a third thing, I wanted to do some sightseeing. It was a nice sunny winter day, not much wind, and I crossed town to Sixth Avenue and turned south.
    To show the kind of thinking that comes on top with no effort when I’m walking, as I crossed Washington Square I was thinking that it was a coincidence that Arbor Street was in the Village and Sarah Dacos lived in the Village. That couldn’t be called a hard thought, since a quarter of a million people lived in the Village, more or less, and I have known fancier coincidences, but it’s a fair sample of what my mind does when I’m walking.
    I had been in Arbor Street before, no matter why for this report. It’s narrow and only three blocks long, with an assortment of old brick houses on either side. Number 63, which was near the middle, had nothingdistinctive about it. I stood across the street and looked it over. The windows on the third floor, where Morris Althaus had lived and died, had tan drapes that were drawn. I went to the corner around which the G-men had parked their car. As I