“Mr. James,” Wolfe said with a sigh, “what did you say to Mr. Linville before you dispatched him?”
“God, you know, I’ve been through all this with the cops, Cramer, and the others.”
“I appreciate that, sir. But I ask your indulgence. The police are not accustomed to sharing their information with Mr. Goodwin and me.”
“Okay,” Michael said, kneading his hands. “I saw Linville drive into the garage where he parks and—”
“Excuse me, but I’m curious as to how far that garage is from Mr. Linville’s building.”
“How far? Hell, it’s about three, maybe four doors west,” Michael snapped irritably.
“Had you known that was where he kept his automobile?”
“I... No, I didn’t. Why?”
“Then how did you happen to be there when he arrived?” Wolfe asked.
“It was... just good timing.”
“Or bad timing,” Wolfe remarked dryly, eyes on the ceiling. “So you followed him into the garage on foot?”
“You got it,” Michael said. “And it looks like I’m going to have a lot of time to think about what I did once I got in there, doesn’t it?”
“Indeed. Tell me again, please, about the tire iron.”
“What’s to tell? It was on the floor, just inside the big door, which Linville had unlocked before he drove in. The door was still up when I walked in behind him, and I just spotted it among a pile of tools.”
“What other tools were there?”
Michael’s forehead wrinkled. “It was dark, but I think a jack, some wrenches, and at least one of those four-sided things to take lugs off a tire, and... well, that’s all I noticed.”
“Understandable,” Wolfe said. “After all, as you say, it was dark. And now, a hypothetical question, if you don’t mind: Let us assume for a moment that there had been no tools piled inside the door, no tire iron. How do you think you would have proceeded against Mr. Linville in that situation?”
“I probably would have popped him a few times, but I did some boxing in college, so even my punches might have killed him,” Michael said in a smug tone.
“But you reached for the tire iron, with specific intent to use it?”
“Damn right,” Michael shot back. “And I’m not sorry.”
“Evidently. Did you engage Mr. Linville in conversation before you delivered the coup de grace?”
“As he was getting out of the car, I hollered to him — I called his name. He looked at me, sort of puzzled. I mean, he’d never met me before, although I’d seen him a couple times around town, like in Orion. Anyway, I walked up to him and said my name. It didn’t register, so then I told him I was Nor’s brother, and he gave me a funny smile, like he was all of a sudden figuring things out.”
“Did he appear to be intoxicated?” Wolfe asked.
“Hard to tell. Maybe. Anyway, he started to laugh, and that’s when I lost it and called him a bastard and swung the tire iron. I don’t even know how many times I hit him.” His expression was impassive.
Wolfe drank beer, then set his glass down, frowning at it. “What was Mr. Linville wearing?”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Michael snarled.
“Just my curiosity,” Wolfe said. “What did you do after striking him down?”
Michael fidgeted irritably. “Like I said, I’ve told all this to the cops already. I ran out the door.”
“Where did you go?”
“Home.”
“Via what route?”
“I went west on Seventy-seventh and caught a cab on Second Avenue.”
“What about the tire iron?”
“Like I told the cops, Cramer and the others, I thought I dropped it in the garage, but I honestly can’t remember. But they say they didn’t find it in the garage, so maybe I carried it with me.”
“To Second Avenue?” Wolfe asked.
“All I know is that I didn’t have it with me when I got into the damn cab. Everything is kind of hazy about that time, you know. Look, the lawyer they got for me doesn’t want me to talk to anyone, and the only reason I’m even here is because of Noreen. I know you’ve got a reputation as some kind of genius, but that’s not going to do me any good. Face it, I’m dead meat.”
Wolfe eyed our visitor for several seconds without stirring. “Sir, you may indeed be, as you term it, ‘dead meat.’ And my services may patently be superfluous. Your sister, however, seems unswerving in her conviction of your innocence.”
“What would you expect of a sister?” Michael asked, smiling sourly. “I mean, she’s not about to hang me out to dry.”
“But you appear more than willing to hang yourself out to dry,” Wolfe remarked.
“What can I say? I bashed the guy, and I’m not sorry about it. He did something — all three of us here know exactly what it was — and then I did something. I’d do it all over again, with a tire iron, or with my hands, or with anything else I could find. Now, I know guys like you make out big on retainers, which is fine, I guess. And I also know that Nor can afford you, but she’s wasting her time. Give her back her money, and I’ll pay you the same amount, and then you can drop all of this because, believe me, it’s hopeless. They got the right guy.”
“Mr. James, yours is not an unattractive proposal,” Wolfe conceded. “Indeed, given certain circumstances, I might be inclined to consider such an offer, but I must in this situation respectfully decline.”
“What’s the matter — don’t you believe I have the money?” Michael challenged.
“On the contrary, Mr. James. I don’t doubt for a moment that you do.”
“Then what’s the problem? You said under certain circumstances, you’d be — what? — ‘inclined to consider the offer,’ I think, is the way you put it. What the hell are the circumstances?”
Wolfe readjusted his bulk. “Borrowing loosely from the language of the Bible, the first and great circumstance under which I would ponder such a proposition is if its giver were guilty. And you, sir, are manifestly not guilty.”
Michael James started to get up, glared at Wolfe, who glared back, and then sat down again. “Listen, Wolfe, you may be a genius, but you’ve blown it this time. Do you mean to say that even with me admitting to offing Linville, you guys are going to go ahead and take my sister’s money? I think that stinks.”
I must interrupt here to report that “stinks” is not the word young James used, but my practice is to keep these narratives relatively free from what Wolfe has referred to as “the desecration of the language.” So “stinks” will have to do, and if you think another word works better, feel free to make the substitution — you might even be correct.
Anyway, after Wolfe got told off, he looked at James and sniffed. “I am of the opinion that your sister is firmly in the possession of her faculties. Were I a charlatan, she would doubtless see through me in an instant and react accordingly. However, you may wish to share your analysis of my motives with her.”
“You’re damn right I will,” Michael yapped, this time getting up in earnest. “Where is she?”
I steered him toward the front room, leaving Wolfe to his devices — which is to say, beer and a book — and ushered him down the hall to the front room, opening it ahead of him. Noreen popped to her feet as he entered, and brother and sister just looked at each other for several seconds.
I finally broke the spell, telling them they were free to remain in the front room and discuss the situation together. I think Noreen would have stayed, but Michael was in no mood to hang around the brownstone for another minute. The rain had stopped, but the smell of dampness was in the air as he hustled her out the front door and down the steps to the street. She turned back to me with an “I’m-sorry-but-that’s-Michael-for-you” look as I stood in the doorway.