“No doubt that was a help.” He looked up at the wall clock. “I presume you will now go home. Since you must tell the police that you were here you might as well say that you learned of your husband’s death from my radio; it will save you the bother of feigning surprise and shock.” He eyed her. “I said you would be in a pickle, and you are. When I asked what you wanted of me, I shall say that you consulted me in confidence and I will reveal nothing of your conversation. It will be a little ticklish, but until and unless you are arrested on a charge of murder the pressure will not be intolerable. So you may tell them as much about your visit here, or as little, as you please.”
She opened her bag. “I’m going to write a check. You must take it. You must!”
“No. You may not be in jeopardy. They may get the murderer today or tomorrow. If they do I may send you a bill for the extra hour; it will depend on my mood. If they don’t, and you wish to engage my services, and Mr. Goodwin’s guess has not been discredited, we’ll see.” He pushed his chair back and stood up.
She rose to her feet, steady this time, and I went and held her coat for her.
Chapter 3
When I returned to the office after letting her out, Wolfe had straightened up in his chair to lean forward, and, with his head cocked, was sniffing the air. For a second I thought he was pretending that our ex-client had polluted the atmosphere with perfume, but then I realized that he was merely trying to catch an odor from the kitchen, where Fritz was baking scallops in shells — or probably, since I could catch the odor without sniffing, he was deciding whether Fritz had used only shallots in the sauce or had added an onion. By the time I got to my chair he had settled it; anyway, he turned to me.
“I do not intend,” he stated, “to serve the convenience of a murderer. What about her face? I was at one side.”
“One will get you fifty,” I said. “You heard her stutter that I was m-m-making it up. Then when I said no, he had been shot dead and it hit her as a fact, she went white, all white, in three seconds. Maybe she can wiggle her ears, but she can’t do that. No one can.”
“Very well. Call Mr. Cohen and get details.”
“Anything in particular?”
“Whatever he has, but I want to know if the weapon has been found, or a bullet.”
“He would appreciate a major scoop, such as that the widow of the deceased visited the office of Nero Wolfe this morning. Why not, since she’s going to report it?”
“Very well.”
I got at the phone and dialed the number of the Gazette, and soon had Lon Cohen. When I tossed him the bone about Mrs. Hazen coming to see Wolfe, naturally he wanted the whole skeleton, not to mention meat, but I told him that would be all for now and how about some reciprocity? He obliged, and gave me the crop, and I thanked him and hung up and turned to Wolfe.
“The body was found by a truck driver at ten-eighteen a.m. It was stiff, so he must have been dead at least five hours and probably more. He was fully dressed, including an overcoat, and his hat was there on the ground. The usual items in his pockets, including a couple of dollars in change, except that there were no keys, and no wallet and no watch. Of course they could have been taken by someone who found him earlier and forgot to mention it. His name was on letters in his pocket, so the wallet wasn’t taken to delay identification. Shot once, in the back, and a rib stopped the bullet and they have it. A thirty-two. Weapon not found. If the police have any leads or notions they’re saving them, but of course it was found less than three hours ago.” I glanced at my wrist. “Two hours and forty-nine minutes. Lon says he would have paid me five grand if I had kept Mrs. Hazen here until he could send a man to take her picture and ask her who shot her husband, and I told him I’ll bear that in mind next time.”
“They have the bullet?”
“Right.”
“When will a policeman come?”
“It will probably be Cramer in person. You know how he’ll react when he learns she was here. Say two hours, possibly sooner.”
“Will she report what she told me?”
“No.”
A corner of his mouth twitched. “That’s why I put up with you; you could have answered with fifty words and you did it with one.”
“I’ve often wondered. Now tell me why I put up with you.”
“That’s beyond conjecture. I want a bullet that has been fired from that gun, and we shouldn’t wait until after lunch. You have twenty minutes. If your guess about Mrs. Hazen is correct, that gun is not evidence, unless the murderer stole into that house afterwards, went to Mr. Hazen’s room and returned the gun to the drawer, and slipped out again. If it is evidence you’ll be tampering with it. Shall I do it?”
“No. You might shoot a toe off.” I got the gun from the drawer, removed one of the cartridges, unlocked and opened the drawer where we keep the Marleys for which we have permits, and got a .32 cartridge from the box. I put that cartridge in the Drexel where I had made room for it, turned the cylinder so it would be in firing position, went to the hall and downstairs to the storage room in the basement, switched the light on, and crossed to where a discarded mattress was doubled up on a table. I had used it for this operation before. I cocked the revolver, held it three inches from the mattress, and pulled the trigger.
You would suppose that all .32 cartridges would send a bullet the same distance into a mattress, the same mattress, but they don’t. It took me a quarter of an hour to find it, and by the time I got back upstairs Wolfe was at table in the dining room, which is across the hall from the office. Before I joined him I removed the shell, returned the Drexel’s own cartridge to its place, and put the gun in the safe and the bullet in an envelope in my desk drawer.
We were back in the office, Wolfe dictating and me taking, when company came. I had been right on both counts: it was Inspector Cramer in person, and it was 2:55 when the doorbell rang and I went to the hall for a look through the one-way glass panel in the front door, and there he was on the stoop, no sign of a sag in the heavy broad shoulders, the round red face framed by his turned-up overcoat collar and the brim of his gray felt which should have been retired long ago. Since he had no appointment it would have been proper to open the door the two inches allowed by the chain bolt and greet him through the crack, but that always annoyed him, and if it turned out that I had tampered with evidence it wouldn’t hurt to show him now that I had my good points. So I pulled the door wide open. Without even a nod, let alone a civil greeting, he crossed the sill, tramped down the hall into the office and on to Wolfe’s desk, and demanded, “What time did Mrs. Barry Hazen get here this morning?”
Wolfe tilted his head back to look up at him and inquired, “Is that snow on your hat?”
Having entered and detoured around him, I too looked at the hat. There was nothing whatever on it except signs of age, and outdoors the sun was shining. It would fluster any man to have it put to him that one removes one’s hat when one enters a house, but Cramer is ready for anything when he faces Wolfe. It didn’t faze him. He merely barked, “I asked you a question!”
“Half past eleven,” Wolfe said.
“When did she leave?”
“Shortly before one o’clock.”
Cramer took his overcoat off, ignored my offer to take it, put it on the arm of the red leather chair, and sat. “An hour and a half,” he said, not barking but a little hoarse. He is always a little hoarse when he is dealing with Wolfe. “What did she have to say?” He hadn’t touched the hat.
Wolfe swiveled and leaned back. “Mr. Cramer. I know that Mrs. Hazen’s husband has been shot and killed. She was with me when the news came on my radio. I know that when I have been consulted by a person who is in any way connected with a death by violence you automatically assume that I have knowledge of evidence that would be useful in your investigation. Sometimes your assumption is valid; sometimes it isn’t. This time it isn’t; that is my considered opinion. Mrs. Hazen consulted me in confidence. If at any time I have reason to think that by refusing to disclose what she told me I am obstructing justice, I’ll communicate with you at once.”