“Perhaps not. But there’s a good chance she can get you put under oath and asked who told you that she had improper relations with Dennis Ashby. Mr. Goodwin asked you that yesterday and you were amused. Offensively. Will you tell me now, not for quotation?”
“No. You know I won’t. Are you saying that she didn’t? That Vassos didn’t kill Ashby?”
“Certainly. That’s why I got those people here. That’s what I’m going to discuss with them. The actions brought-”
“Damn it, Wolfe, open the door!”
“I’m shutting it. If you change your mind about answering my question, you know my phone number.”
Cramer has his points. Knowing that it would be silly to try to stop the door with his foot, since Wolfe and I together weigh 450 pounds, he didn’t. Knowing that if he stood there and shook his fist and made faces we would see him through the one-way glass, he didn’t. He turned and went. Wolfe and I about-faced. Horan was no longer peeking; he had stepped into the hall and was standing there. As we approached he turned and moved inside, and as we entered the office he was speaking.
“It was Inspector Cramer. Wolfe shut the door on him. He’s gone.”
Frances Cox said, loud, “You don’t shut the door on a police inspector.”
“Wolfe does. He did.” Horan was back in his chair. Wolfe and I went to ours. Wolfe focused on Horan.
“To resume. Did Peter Vassos ever shine your shoes?”
Horan’s quick-moving eyes darted to Mercer, but the president was frowning at a corner of Wolfe’s desk and didn’t meet them. They went back to Wolfe. “No, he didn’t. I suppose what you’re getting at is did I tell Vassos about Ashby and his daughter? I didn’t. I have never seen Vassos. I understand he always came around ten-thirty, and I am never there at that time. I’m out calling on customers. I was there Monday morning and was with Ashby a few minutes, but I left before ten o’clock.”
Wolfe grunted. “Your observed presence there Monday morning is immaterial. Anyone could have got into Ashby’s room unobserved by the door from the hall, including you. I’m not after-”
“Then why pick on us, if anyone could have got in?”
“I have two reasons: a weaker one, the attack on Miss Vassos’ character, and a stronger one, which I reserve. I’m not after who told Vassos about Ashby and his daughter; I don’t think anybody did; I’m after who told the police. Did you?”
“I answered their questions. I had to.”
“You know better than that if you’re not a nincompoop. You did not have to. Telling them even about yourself and your movements was at your discretion; certainly you were under no compulsion to jabber about others. Did you?”
“I don’t jabber. What I told the police is on record. Ask them.”
“I have. You just heard me ask Mr. Cramer. You have more than once asked a female employee of your firm to find out about the relations between Mr. Ashby and Miss Vassos. What did she tell you?”
“Ask her.”
“I’m asking you.”
“Ask her.”
“I hope I won’t have to.” Wolfe’s eyes went right. “Miss Cox. What terms were you on with Mr. Vassos?”
“I wasn’t on any terms with him.” Her head was up and her chin was pushing. It was a nice chin when she left it to itself. “He was the bootblack.”
“He was also the father of one of your fellow employees. Of course you knew that.”
“Certainly.”
“Did you like him? Did he like you?”
“I never asked him. I didn’t like him or dislike him. He was the bootblack, that’s all.”
“Affable exchanges even with a bootblack are not unheard of. Did you speak much with him?”
“No. Hardly any.”
“Describe the customary routine. He would appear in the anteroom where you were stationed, and then?”
“He would ask me if it was all right to go in. He always went to Mr. Mercer’s room first. If someone was in with Mr. Mercer, it depended on who it was. Sometimes he wouldn’t want to be disturbed, and Pete would go to Mr. Busch first. Mr. Busch’s room is across the hall from Mr. Mercer’s.”
“Are the two doors directly opposite?”
“No. Mr. Mercer’s door comes first on the left. Mr. Busch’s door is nearly at the end of the hall on the right.”
“After he had finished with Mr. Mercer and Mr. Busch, Mr. Vassos would go to Mr. Ashby?”
“Yes, but that took him past the reception room and he would ask me on his way. If Mr. Ashby had an important customer with him he wouldn’t want Pete butting in.”
“Are there any others in that office whom Mr. Vassos served?”
“No.”
“Never?”
“No.”
“Was the routine followed on Monday morning?”
“Yes, as far as I know. When Pete came there was no one in with Mr. Mercer and he went on in. Then later he came and put his head around the corner and I nodded, and he went on to Mr. Ashby’s room.”
“How much later?”
“I never timed it. About fifteen minutes.”
“Did you see him enter at Mr. Ashby’s door?”
“No, it’s down the other hall. Anyway, I couldn’t see him enter any of the doors because my desk is in a corner of the reception room.”
“What time was it when he put his head around the corner and you nodded him on to Mr. Ashby’s room?”
“It was ten minutes to eleven, or maybe eight or nine minutes. The police wanted to know exactly, but that’s as close as I could come.”
“How close could you come to the truth about Mr. Ashby and Miss Vassos?”
It took her off balance, but only for two seconds, and she kept her eyes at him. She raised her voice a little. “You think that’s clever, don’t you?”
“No. I’m not clever, Miss Cox. I’m either more or less than clever. What did you tell the police about Mr. Ashby and Miss Vassos?”
“I say what Mr. Horan said. Ask them.”
“What did you tell them about Mr. Ashby and yourself? Did you tell them that you and he were intimate? Did you tell them that Mrs. Ashby once asked an officer of the corporation to discharge you because you were a bad influence on her husband?”
She was smiling, a corner of her mouth turned up. “That sounds like Andy Busch,” she said. “You don’t care who you listen to, do you, Mr. Wolfe? Maybe you’re less than clever.”
“But I’m persistent, madam. The police let up on you because they thought their problem was solved; I don’t, and I won’t. I shall harass you, if necessary, beyond the limit of endurance. You can make it easier for both of us by telling me now of your personal relations with Mr. Ashby. Will you?”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“There will be.” Wolfe left her. He swiveled to face John Mercer in the red leather chair. “Now, sir. I applaud your forbearance. You must have been tempted a dozen times to interrupt and you didn’t. Commendable. As I told you, the only way to stop me would be to satisfy me that I’m mistaken, and Mr. Horan and Miss Cox have made no progress. I invite you to try. Instead of firing questions at you-you know what they would be-I’ll listen. Go ahead.”