Bullet for One

IX

One quick look around the Keyes establishment on the twelfth floor was enough to show where a good slice of the profits had gone, unless that was what Pohl’s hundred grand had been used for. Panels of four kinds of blond wood made up both the walls and ceiling, and the furniture matched. The seats of the chairs for waiting callers were upholstered in blue and black super-burlap, and you had to watch yourself on the rugs not to twist an ankle. Everywhere, in glass cases against the walls, on pedestals scattered around, and on platforms and tables, were models of almost anything you could think of, from fountain pens to airplanes.

When a woman with pink earrings learned that I sought Mr. Pohl she gave me a wary and reproachful look, but she functioned. After a little delay I was waved through a door and found myself at the end of a long wide corridor. There was no one in sight and I had been given no directions, so it was a case of hide and seek. The best opening move seemed to be to walk down the corridor, so I started, glancing into open doors on either side as I passed. The same scale of interior architecture seemed to prevail throughout, with wide variations in style and color. At the fourth door on the right I saw him, and he called to me, simultaneously.

“Come in, Goodwin!”

I entered. It was a big room with three wide windows, and at a quick glance appeared to be the spot where they had really decided to spread themselves. The rugs were white and the walls were black, and the enormous desk that took all of one end was either ebony or call in an expert. The chair behind the desk, in which Pohl was seated, was likewise.

“Where’s Wolfe?” Pohl demanded.

“Where he always is,” I replied, negotiating rugs. “At home, sitting down.”

He was scowling at me. “I thought he was with you. When I phoned him a few minutes ago he intimated that he might be. He’s not coming?”

“No. Never. I’m glad you phoned him again because, as he told you this morning in my hearing, he’ll need the cooperation of all of you.”

“He’ll get mine,” Pohl stated grimly. “Since he’s not coming for it himself, I suppose I ought to give this to you.” He took papers from his breast pocket, looked through them, selected one and held it out. I stepped to the desk to take it.

It was a single sheet, with “Memo from Sigmund Keyes” on it, printed fancy, and scrawled in ink was a list of towns:

“Much obliged,” I thanked him, and stuck it in my pocket. “Covers a lot of country.”

Pohl nodded. “Talbott gets around, and he’s a good salesman, I admit that. Tell Wolfe I did just as he said, and I got it out of a record right here in Keyes’ desk, so no one knows anything about it. Those are all the out-of-town trips Talbott has made since August first. I have no idea what Wolfe wants it for, but by God it shows he’s on the job, and whoever does know what a detective is after? I don’t give a damn how mysterious it is as long as I can help him get Talbott.”

I had an eye cocked at him, trying to decide whether he was really as naïve as he sounded. It gave me one on Wolfe, knowing that he had tried to keep Pohl away from a phone by giving him work to do, and here Pohl had cleaned it up in no time at all and was ready to ask for more. But instead of asking Wolfe for more, he asked me. He shot it at me.

“Go out and get me some sandwiches and coffee. There’s a place on Forty-sixth Street, Perrine’s.”

I sat down. “That’s funny, I was about to ask you to get me some. I’m tired and hungry. Let’s go together.”

“How the hell can I?” he demanded.

“Why not?”

“Because I might not be able to get in again. This is Keyes’ room, but Keyes is dead, and I own part of this business and I’ve got a right here! Dorothy has tried to chase me out — damn her, she used to sit on my lap! I want certain information, and she has ordered the staff not to give me any. She threatened to get the police to put me out, but she won’t do that. She’s had enough of the police this last week.” Pohl was scowling at me. “I prefer corned beef, and the coffee black, no sugar.”

I grinned at his scowl. “So you’re squatting. Where’s Dorothy?”

“Down the hall, in Talbott’s room.”

“Is Talbott there?”

“No, he hasn’t been in today.”

I glanced at my wrist and saw twenty minutes past one. I stood up. “Rye with mustard?”

“No. White bread and nothing on it — no butter.”

“Okay. On one condition, that you promise not to phone Mr. Wolfe. If you did you’d be sure to tell him that you got what he’s after, and I want to surprise him with it.”

He said he wouldn’t, and that he wanted two sandwiches and plenty of coffee, and I departed. Two men and a woman who were standing in the corridor, talking, inspected me head to foot as I passed but didn’t try to trip me, and I went on out to the elevators, descended, and got directed to a phone booth in the lobby.

Orrie Cather answered again, and I began to suspect that he and Saul were continuing the pinochle game with Wolfe.

“I’m on my way,” I told Wolfe when he was on, “to get corned-beef sandwiches for Pohl and me but I’ve got a plan. He promised not to phone you while I’m gone, and if I don’t go back he’s stuck. He has installed himself in Keyes’ room, which you ought to see, against Dorothy’s protests, and intends to stay. Been there all day. What shall I do, come home or go to a movie?”

“Has Mr. Pohl had lunch?”

“Certainly not. That’s what the sandwiches are for.”

“Then you’ll have to take them to him.”

I remained calm because I knew he meant it from his heart, or at least his stomach. He couldn’t bear the idea of even his bitterest enemy missing a meal.

“All right,” I conceded, “and I may get a tip. By the way, that trick you tried didn’t work. Right away he found a record of Talbott’s travels in Keyes’ desk and copied it off on a sheet from Keyes’ memo pad. I’ve got it in my pocket.”

“Read it to me.”

“Oh, you can’t wait.” I got the paper out and read the list of towns and dates to him. Twice he said I was going too fast, so apparently he was taking it down. When that farce was over I asked, “After I feed him, then what?”

“Call in again when you’ve had your lunch.”

I banged the thing on the hook.