back at him, and asked coolly, “Am I here as your client, Mr. Wolfe, or as a suspected thief?”
He wiggled a finger at her. “Neither as yet. Please do not be so foolish as to be offended. If I show you my mind, it is only to save time and avoid irrelevancies. Haven’t I sat and listened patiently for ten minutes although I dislike being read aloud to?”
“That’s irrelevant.”
“Indeed. I believe it is. Let us proceed. Tell me about Mr. George Rowley.”
But that had to be postponed. I had heard the doorbell, and Fritz going down the hall, and a murmur from outside. Now I shook my head at Clara Fox and showed her my palm to stop her, as the office door opened and Fritz came in and closed it behind him.
“A man to see you, sir. I told him you were engaged.”
I bounced up. There were only two kinds of men Fritz didn’t announce as gentlemen: one he suspected of wanting to sell something, and a policeman, uniform or not. He could smell one a mile off. So I bounced up and demanded:
“A cop?”
“Yes, sir.”
I whirled to Wolfe. “Ever since I saw Muir looking at Miss Fox today I’ve been thinking she ought to have a lightning rod. Would you like to have her pinched in here, or out in the hall?”
Wolfe nodded and snapped, “Very well, Archie.”
I crossed quick and got myself against the closed office door, and spoke not too loud to Fritz, pointing to the door that opened into the front room: “Go through that way and lock the door from the front room to the hall.” He moved. I turned to the others: “Go in there and sit down, and if you don’t talk any it won’t disturb us.” Walsh and Miss Lindquist stared at me. Clara Fox said to Wolfe:
“I’m not your client yet.”
He said, “Nor yet a suspect. Here. Please humor Mr. Goodwin.
She got up and went and the others followed her, Fritz came back and I told him to shut that door and lock it and give me the key. Then I went back to my desk and sat down, while Fritz, at a nod from Wolfe, went to the hall for the visitor.
The cop came in, and I was surprised to see that it was a guy I knew. Surprised, because the last time I had heard of Slim Foltz he had been on the Homicide Squad, detailed to the District Attorney’s office.
“Hello, Slim.”
“Hi, Goodwin.” He had his own clothes on. He came on across with his hat in his hand. “Hello, Mr. Wolfe. I’m Foltz, Homicide Squad.”
“Good evening, sir. Be seated.”
The dick put his hat on the desk and sat down, and reached in his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. “There was a man shot down the street an hour or so ago. Shot plenty, five bullets in him. Killed. This piece of paper was in his pocket, with your name and address on it. Along with other names. Do you know anything about him?”
Wolfe shook his head. “Except that he’s dead. Not, that is, at this moment. If I knew his name, perhaps …”
“Yeah. His name was on a hunting license, also in his pocket. State of Wyoming. Harlan Scovil.”
“Indeed. It is possible Mr. Goodwin can help you out. Archie?”
I was thinking to myself, hell, he didn’t come for her after all. But I was just as well pleased she wasn’t in the room.
Slim Foltz was looking at me.
I said, “Harlan Scovil? Sure. He was here this afternoon.”
Foltz got in his pocket again and fished out a little black memo book and a pencil stub. “What time?”
“He got here around 4:30, a little before maybe, and left at 5:26.”
“What did he want?”
“He wanted to see Nero Wolfe.”
“What about?”
I shook my head regretfully. “There you’ve got me, mister. I told him he’d have to wait until six o’clock, so he was waiting.”
“He must have said something.”
“Certainly he said something. He said he wanted to see Nero Wolfe.”
“What else did he say?”
“He said there seemed to be very little spittin’ done east of the Mississippi River, and he wanted to know if there were any honest men this side of the
He wiggled a finger at her. “Neither as yet. Please do not be so foolish as to be offended. If I show you my mind, it is only to save time and avoid irrelevancies. Haven’t I sat and listened patiently for ten minutes although I dislike being read aloud to?”
“That’s irrelevant.”
“Indeed. I believe it is. Let us proceed. Tell me about Mr. George Rowley.”
But that had to be postponed. I had heard the doorbell, and Fritz going down the hall, and a murmur from outside. Now I shook my head at Clara Fox and showed her my palm to stop her, as the office door opened and Fritz came in and closed it behind him.
“A man to see you, sir. I told him you were engaged.”
I bounced up. There were only two kinds of men Fritz didn’t announce as gentlemen: one he suspected of wanting to sell something, and a policeman, uniform or not. He could smell one a mile off. So I bounced up and demanded:
“A cop?”
“Yes, sir.”
I whirled to Wolfe. “Ever since I saw Muir looking at Miss Fox today I’ve been thinking she ought to have a lightning rod. Would you like to have her pinched in here, or out in the hall?”
Wolfe nodded and snapped, “Very well, Archie.”
I crossed quick and got myself against the closed office door, and spoke not too loud to Fritz, pointing to the door that opened into the front room: “Go through that way and lock the door from the front room to the hall.” He moved. I turned to the others: “Go in there and sit down, and if you don’t talk any it won’t disturb us.” Walsh and Miss Lindquist stared at me. Clara Fox said to Wolfe:
“I’m not your client yet.”
He said, “Nor yet a suspect. Here. Please humor Mr. Goodwin.
She got up and went and the others followed her, Fritz came back and I told him to shut that door and lock it and give me the key. Then I went back to my desk and sat down, while Fritz, at a nod from Wolfe, went to the hall for the visitor.
The cop came in, and I was surprised to see that it was a guy I knew. Surprised, because the last time I had heard of Slim Foltz he had been on the Homicide Squad, detailed to the District Attorney’s office.
“Hello, Slim.”
“Hi, Goodwin.” He had his own clothes on. He came on across with his hat in his hand. “Hello, Mr. Wolfe. I’m Foltz, Homicide Squad.”
“Good evening, sir. Be seated.”
The dick put his hat on the desk and sat down, and reached in his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. “There was a man shot down the street an hour or so ago. Shot plenty, five bullets in him. Killed. This piece of paper was in his pocket, with your name and address on it. Along with other names. Do you know anything about him?”
Wolfe shook his head. “Except that he’s dead. Not, that is, at this moment. If I knew his name, perhaps …”
“Yeah. His name was on a hunting license, also in his pocket. State of Wyoming. Harlan Scovil.”
“Indeed. It is possible Mr. Goodwin can help you out. Archie?”
I was thinking to myself, hell, he didn’t come for her after all. But I was just as well pleased she wasn’t in the room.
Slim Foltz was looking at me.
I said, “Harlan Scovil? Sure. He was here this afternoon.”
Foltz got in his pocket again and fished out a little black memo book and a pencil stub. “What time?”
“He got here around 4:30, a little before maybe, and left at 5:26.”
“What did he want?”
“He wanted to see Nero Wolfe.”
“What about?”
I shook my head regretfully. “There you’ve got me, mister. I told him he’d have to wait until six o’clock, so he was waiting.”
“He must have said something.”
“Certainly he said something. He said he wanted to see Nero Wolfe.”
“What else did he say?”
“He said there seemed to be very little spittin’ done east of the Mississippi River, and he wanted to know if there were any honest men this side of the
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