He nodded. “As expected.”
“Any instructions?”
He pursed his lips, and Rita, on her feet, beat him to it. Asking, “May I speak to him?” she came with her hand out for the phone. Wolfe nodded. I pointed to the phone on his desk and told her to use that one, and she went and got it. I stayed on.
“Martin?”
“Yes. Rita?”
“Yes. Where are you?”
“In my room at the hotel. You’re still there?”
“Yes. What are you going to do? Are you going to your office?”
“Good Lord no. I’m going to see Jimmy Vance. Then I’m going to see Nero Wolfe again. Someone has-”
I cut in. “Hold it. I’ve told Mr. Wolfe and he’ll have instructions. Hold the wire.” I turned. “He says he’s going to see Vance. Shall I tell him to lay off or will you?”
“Neither. He’s had no sleep and not much to eat. Tell him to come this evening, say nine o’clock, if he’s awake, and report on his talk with Mr. Vance.”
“You tell him,” I said and hung up. Being a salaried employee, I should of course keep my place in the presence of company, and that’s exactly what I was doing, keeping my place. I had had enough and then some, and Wolfe’s glare, which of course came automatically, was wasted because my head was turned and he had my profile, including the set of my jaw. When Rita was through with the phone he took it, spoke briefly with his client, cradled it, and looked at the clock. Six minutes to lunch.
“Do you want me any more?” she asked him. “I’d like to go.”
“Later perhaps,” he said. “If you’ll phone a little after six?”
I got up and spoke. “If you don’t mind, Mrs. Fougere.” I crossed to the door to the front room and opened it. “If you’ll wait in here just a few minutes?”
She looked at Wolfe, saw that he had no comment, and came. When she had crossed the sill I closed the door, which is as soundproof as the wall, went to Wolfe’s desk, and said, “If it blows up in your face you’re not going to blame it on me. I merely called your attention a couple of times to the fact that a fee would be welcome. I didn’t say it was desperate, that you should grab a measly grand from a character who is probably going to be tagged for the big one. And now when he says he is going to see Vance, to handle the tie question on his own-and the tie was sent to me, not you-you not only don’t veto it, you don’t even tell me to go and sit in. Also she’s going there too, that’s obvious, and you merely tell her to phone you later. I admit you’re a genius, but when you took his check you couldn’t possibly have had the faintest idea whether he was guilty or not, and even now you don’t know the score. They may have him absolutely wrapped up. The tie was mailed to me and I gave it to Cramer, and I’m asking, not respectfully.”
He nodded. “Well said. A good speech.”
“Thank you. And?”
“I didn’t tell you to go because it’s lunchtime. Also I doubt if you would get anything useful. Naturally I’ll have to see Mr. Vance-and Mr. Fougere. As for desperation, when I took Mr. Kirk’s check I knew it was extremely improbable that he had killed his wife, and I-”
“How?”
He shook his head. “You call me to account? You know everything that I know; ponder it yourself. If instead of lunch you choose to be present at a futile conversation, do so by all means. I will not be hectored into an explanation you shouldn’t need.”
Fritz entered to announce lunch, saw what the atmosphere was, and stood. I went and opened the door to the front room, passed through, and told Rita, “All right, Mrs. Fougere. I’m going along.”
6
WHEN YOU’RE GOOD and sore at someone it’s simple. You cuss him out, to his face if he’s available and privately if he isn’t, and you take steps if and as you can. When you’re sore at yourself it’s even simpler; the subject is right there and can’t skip. But when you’re sore at yourself and someone else at the same time you’re in a fix. If you try to concentrate on one the other one horns in and gets you off balance, and that was the state I was in as I stood aside in the vestibule of Two-nineteen Horn Street while Rita Fougere used her key on the door. In the taxi on the way down I had told her about the necktie problem. She might as well get it from me as later from Kirk, and she might as well understand why Kirk wanted to see Vance.
I supposed she would want to go first to her own apartment on the ground floor; surely any woman would whose face needed attention as much as hers-but no. Straight to the elevator and up, and out at the third floor, and she pressed the button at Vance’s door. It opened, and Vance was there. His face wasn’t as neat and smooth as it had been the day before, and he had on a different outfit-a conservative gray suit, a white shirt, and a plain gray tie. Of course the DA’s office had had him down too. He said “Rita!” and put out a hand, then saw me, but I can’t say what kind of a welcome I would have got because Kirk interrupted, stepping over and telling Rita she shouldn’t have come. She said something, but he wasn’t listening because he had noticed me.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he said. “It’s not very clear in my mind, what Nero Wolfe told me about the tie. I was just going to tell Vance about him. Rita, please! You can’t-this is my trouble.”
“Listen, Martin,” she said, “you shouldn’t be here. I know now why they think it was one of us, so it’s our trouble. You should leave it to him-Nero Wolfe. You shouldn’t be talking about it with anybody, not even me. Isn’t that right, Mr. Goodwin?”
“Mr. Wolfe knew he was coming,” I said. I have mentioned that I was sore. “Mr. Wolfe has been called a wizard by various people, and with a wizard you never know. Of course he had me come.” I had to force my tongue to let that through, but a private scrap should be kept private.
Vance was frowning at me. “Nero Wolfe had you come? Here?”
“I went to him,” Kirk said. “He told me about the necktie. That’s what I want to ask you about. You remember you gave me one, one of those-”
A bell tinkled. I was between Vance and the door, and I moved to let him by. He opened the door and a man stepped in, darted a glance around, and squeaked, “What, a party? A hell of a time for a party, Jimmy.”
I say he squeaked because he did, but it was obviously his natural squeak, not the kind on the phone that had told me to burn the tie, though it didn’t fit his six feet and broad shoulders and handsome, manly face. “It’s no party, Paul,” Vance told him, but Paul ignored him and was at Rita. “My pet, you’re a perfect fright. You look godawful.” He wheeled to Kirk. “And look at you, Martin my boy. Only why not? Why are you still loose?” He looked at me. “Are you a cop?”
I shook my head. “I don’t count. Skip me.”
“With pleasure.” To Vance: “I came to ask you something, and now I can ask everybody. Do you know that the cops have got one of your neckties with a spot on it?”
Vance nodded. “Yes, I know.”
“Where did they get it? Why are they riding me about it? Why did they ask me if I had taken it or one like it out of your closet? Did you tell them I had?”
“Certainly not. I told them one was missing, that’s all.”