Bending my ears, I heard the door of her apartment open and close.
At a quarter past four two police cars stopped out in front. One of them found a spot at the curb and the other one double-parked, and I recognized all three of the homicide dicks who got out and headed for Number 63. One of them, Sergeant Purley Stebbins, was probably thinking of me as he pushed the button at the door. He hates to find Nero Wolfe or me in the same county with a homicide, and here he was on an errand we were responsible for. I wanted to go to the hall to hear the conversation when he showed her the warrant, but didn’t. He might smell me and it would hold up the search.
It took them not more than ten minutes to find it. They entered the apartment at 4:21, that was when I heard the door close, and Purley left the house with her at 4:43. I’m allowing twelve minutes for him to ask her a few questions after he got the gun. I stood at the window and watched Purley get in the car with her, and the car pull off, and then went and sat on the couch. Since he had taken her, the question about the gun was answered. I stayed on the couch a few minutes while my state of mind got adjusted.
I got my hat and coat and went. There was still a NYPD car out in front, waiting for the two dicks still in the apartment, and the driver might know me, but so what? I hadn’t recognized him from the window, and I don’t know if he knew me or not. As I walked past the car, no hurry, he gave me a hard eye, but that could have been because I had come out of that house.
I walked home. It was a little after half past five, dark, when I mounted the stoop and let myself in. I went to the kitchen, got a glass of milk, and asked Fritz, “Has he told you that we’re off the hook?”
“No.” He was inspecting carrots.
“Well, we are. Say anything you want to on the phone. Resume with your girl friends. If a stranger speaks to you, do as you please. Do you want some good advice?”
“Yes.”
“Hit him for a raise. I am. By the way, I haven’t asked you about the dinner last night. Did you feed them good?”
He leveled his eyes at me. “Archie, that is never to be mentioned. That terrible day. Epouvantable. My mind was here with you. I don’t know what I did, I don’t know what was served. I will forget it if possible.”
“Hewitt said on the phone that they stood and applauded you.”
“But certainly. They were polite. I know I put no truffles in the Périgourdine.”
“Good God. I’m glad I wasn’t there. Okay, we’ll forget it. May I have a carrot? It’s wonderful with milk.”
He said certainly, and I helped myself.
I was at my desk, making out checks to pay bills, when Wolfe came down from the plant rooms. Though he hadn’t said so I knew he was as much on edge as I had been, and as he went to his desk I turned my head and said, “Relax. They got the gun.”
“How do you know?”
I told him, beginning with the conversation with Cramer and ending with the conversation with Fritz. He asked if I had got a receipt for the photograph.
“No,” I said, “he wasn’t in a mood for signing receipts. I had told him that Althaus hadn’t been killed by a G-man, and that hurt.”
“No doubt. Will Mr. Wragg be at his office?”
“He could be.”
“Get him.”
I turned and got the phone, but as I started to dial the doorbell rang. I cradled it and went to the hall for a look, turned, and said, “You can ask him for the receipt.”
He took a breath. “Is he alone?”
I told him yes and went to the front and opened the door. Cramer didn’t have a carton of milk for me. He had nothing at all for me, not even a nod. When I had his coat he made for the office, and when I got there he was planted in the red leather chair and talking. I got the end of it: “... and I might have known better. God knows I should know better.” He switched to me as I sat. “Where did you get that gun and when did you put it there?”
“Confound it,” Wolfe growled, “you shouldn’t have come. You should have waited until you had arranged your mind. Archie, get Mr. Wragg.”
When Cramer is boiling it isn’t easy to stop the stream, but that did, the name Wragg. I didn’t see him clamp his jaw and glare at Wolfe, I only knew he did, because my back was turned as I dialed LE 5-7700. I was supposing it would take patience and staying power to get through to the top, but not at all. Apparently word had been passed down that a call from Nero Wolfe had priority, which was a good sign. In no time the smooth low-pitched drawl was in my ear, and in Wolfe’s too, for he had picked up his phone. I stayed on.
“Wolfe?”
“Yes. Mr. Wragg?”
“Yes.”
“I’m ready for that bullet. Now. As we agreed. Bring the bullet, and I surrender the credentials if you are not satisfied within a month. I think it will be sooner, much sooner.”
No hesitation. “I’ll come.”
“Now?”
“Yes.”
As we hung up Wolfe asked me, “How long will it take him?” I said twenty minutes or less, that he wouldn’t have to scout for a taxi, and Wolfe turned to Cramer. “Mr. Wragg will be here in twenty minutes. I suggest—”
“Wragg of the FBI?”
“Yes. I suggest that you postpone your onslaught until he arrives — and, perhaps, goes — and meanwhile I’ll describe an operation which has been concluded. I have told Mr. Wragg that I will make no public disclosure of it, but you are not the public, and since you made it possible I owe it to you. But it will help in dealing with him if you will answer two questions. Was a gun found in Miss Dacos’s apartment?”
“Certainly. I just asked Goodwin when he put it there, and I’m going to ask him again.”
“You may not after we finish with Mr. Wragg. Was it the gun Morris Althaus had a permit for?”
“Yes.”
“That will simplify matters greatly. Now that operation...”
He described it, and he reports almost as well as I do — better, if you like long words. There was no point in leaving Hewitt’s name out since the FBI knew all about it, and he gave all the details. When he came to the scene in the office, with the two G-men completely surrounded by guns and him dropping their credentials in his drawer, I saw something I had never seen before and will probably never see again, a broad smile on the face of Inspector Cramer. And it was there again when, reporting the conversation with Wragg that morning, Wolfe came to where he had told him that his word was much better. I was thinking that he might even pop up to go to Wolfe and pat him on the back when the doorbell rang and I went to answer it.
I have mentioned that Wragg was fazed when Wolfe asked him to bring the bullet, but that was nothing compared to the jolt he got when he walked into the office and saw Cramer. I was behind him and couldn’t see his face, but I saw him go stiff and his fingers curl. Cramer, on his feet, started a hand out but took it back.
“As I brought a yellow chair Wragg spoke to Wolfe. “Your word? Better than mine? You goddam skunk!”