Home to Roost

IX

Saturday noon, the next day, Wengert and Cramer stood there in the office, at the end of Wolfe’s desk. They were standing because, having been there nearly an hour and covered all the points, they were ready to leave. They had not admitted in so many words that Wolfe had done the American people, including them, a favor, but on the whole they had been sociable.

As they were turning to go I said, “Excuse me, one little thing.”

They looked at me. I spoke to Wengert. “I thought Mr. Wolfe might mention it, but he didn’t, and neither did you. I only bring it up to offer a constructive criticism. An FBI undercover girl, even one disguised as a Commie, shouldn’t get in the habit of hurting people’s feelings just for the hell of it. It didn’t do a particle of good for Carol Berk to call me a crummy little stooge before a witness. Of course she was sore because I found her in the closet, but even so. I think you ought to speak to her about it.”

Wengert was frowning at me. “Carol Berk? What kind of a gag is this?”

“Oh, come off it.” I was disgusted. “How thick could I get? It was so obvious Mr. Wolfe didn’t even bother to comment on it. Who else could have told you about my talk with Delia Devlin? She trusted Miss Berk enough to let her hide in the closet, so of course she told her about it. Do you want to debate it with me on TV?”

“No. Nor with anybody else. You talk too damn much.”

“Only with the right people. Say please, and I’ll promise not to tell. I just wanted to make a helpful suggestion. I may be crummy and I may be a stooge, but I’m not little.”

Cramer snorted. “If you ask me there’s too much of you. About a hundred and eighty pounds too much. Come on, Wengert, I’m late.”

They went. I supposed that was the last of that, but a couple of days later, Monday afternoon, while Wolfe was dictating a letter, the phone rang and a voice said it was Carol Berk. I said hello, showing no enthusiasm, and asked her, “How are your manners?”

“Rotten when required,” she said cheerfully. “Privately like this, from a phone booth, I can be charming. I thought it was only fair for me to apologize for calling you little.”

“Okay, go ahead.”

“I thought you might prefer it face to face. I’m willing to take the trouble if you insist.”

“Well, I’ll tell you. I had an idea last week, Wednesday I think it was, that I ought to find time some day to tell you why I don’t like you. We could meet and clean it up. I’ll tell you why I don’t like you, and you’ll apologize. The Churchill bar at four-thirty? Can you be seen with me in public?”

“Certainly, I’m supposed to be seen in public.”

“Fine. I’ll have a hammer and sickle in my buttonhole.”

As I hung up and swiveled I told Wolfe, “That was Carol Berk. I’m going to buy her a drink and possibly food. Since she was connected with the case we’ve just finished, of course I’ll put it on the expense account.”

“You will not,” he asserted and resumed the dictation.