If Death Ever Slept

Chapter 16

That Monday night may not have been the worst night Fritz ever spent, for he has had some tough ones, but it was bad enough. When I had got back after delivering the package at 20th Street, a little after ten o’clock, Wolfe had called him to the office.

“Some instructions, Fritz.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Archie and I will go up to bed shortly, but we are not here and will not be here. You will answer the phone. You do not know where we are or when we will return. You do not know exactly when we left. You may be bullyragged, by Mr. Cramer or others, but you will maintain that position. You will take messages if any are given, to be delivered to us when we return. You will ignore the doorbell. You will open no outside door, stoop or basement or back, under any circumstances whatever. If you do, a search warrant may be thrust at you and the house will be overrun. A contingency might arise that will make you consider it necessary to disturb Archie or me, but I think not and hope not. Bring my breakfast an hour early, at seven o’clock. Archie will have his at seven also. I shall be sorry if you fail of a proper night’s sleep, but it can’t be helped. You can take a nap tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir.” Fritz swallowed. “If there is danger, may I suggest—” He stopped and started over. “I know you are reluctant to leave the house, that is understood, but there are times when it is better to leave a house, at least for a short time. Especially in your profession.” He looked at me. “You know that, Archie.”

Wolfe reassured him, “No, Fritz, there is no danger. On the contrary, this is the preamble to triumph. You understand the instructions?”

He said he did, but he wasn’t happy. For years he had been expecting the day to come when Wolfe would be dragged out of the house in handcuffs, not to mention me, and he was against it. He gave me a reproachful look, which God knows I didn’t deserve, and left, and Wolfe and I, not being there anyway, went up to bed.

Seven o’clock is much too early a breakfast hour unless you’re a bird or a bird watcher, but I made it to the kitchen by 7:08. My glass of orange juice was there, but Fritz wasn’t, and the phone was ringing. It was a temptation to take it and see how well I could imitate Fritz’s voice, but I let it ring. By the time Fritz came it had given up. I told him he must have been late taking Wolfe’s breakfast tray up, and he said no, he had got it there on the dot at seven, but had stayed to report on the night.

While I dealt with toast, bacon, fresh strawberry omelet, and coffee, he reported to me, referring to notes. The first call from Lieutenant Rowcliff had come at 11:32, and he had been so empathic that Fritz had hung up on him. The second had been at 11:54, less emphatic but stubborner. At 12:21 Cramer had called, and had got both personal and technical, explaining the penalties that could be imposed on a man, Fritz for instance, for complicity in withholding evidence and obstructing justice in a murder investigation. At 12:56 the doorbell had started to ring, and at 1:03 pounding on the front door had begun. From 1:14 to a little after six peace had reigned, but at 6:09 Cramer had phoned, and at 6:27 the doorbell had started up again, and through the one-way glass panel Sergeant Stebbins had been visible. He had kept at it for five minutes and was now in a police car with a colleague out at the curb.

I got up, went to the font door for a look, came back, requested more toast, and poured more coffee. “He’s still there,” I told Fritz, “and there’s one danger. As you know, Mr. Wolfe can’t bear the idea of a hungry man in his house, and while Stebbins isn’t actually in the house he’s there in front and wants to be, and he looks hungry. If Mr. Wolfe sees him and suspects he hasn’t had breakfast there’ll be hell to pay. Could I borrow a little wild thyme honey?”

I was on the last bite of toast and honey and the last inch of coffee when the sound of Wolfe’s elevator came, and by the time I was through swallowing and got to the office he was there behind his desk. We said good morning.

“So,” I said, “it wasn’t a prankster.”

“Apparently not.” With the edge of a blotter he was flipping from his desk pad dust that wasn’t there. “Get Mr. Cramer.”

I got at the phone and dialed, and soon had him, and Wolfe took it. I held my receiver an inch from my ear, expecting a blast, but it had gone beyond that. Cramer’s voice was merely hoarse with fury.

“Where are you?” he demanded.

“I’m on an errand, no matter where. I’m calling to ask about the bullet I sent you. Does it match the others?”

“You know damn well it does. You knew it when you sent it. This is the rawest—”

“No, I suspected it, but I didn’t know it. That was what I had to know before I divulged where it came from. That was why I arranged to keep its source anonymous until I knew. I would like to have it explicitly. Was the bullet I sent you fired from the same gun as those that killed Eber and Brigham?”

“By God.” Cramer knew darned well he shouldn’t use profanity on the phone, so he must have been upset. “You arranged! I’ll arrange you! I’ll arrange for you to—”

“Mr. Cramer! This is ridiculous. I’m supplying the solution of an extremely bothersome case, and you sputter at me. If you must sputter, wait until you have the facts. Will you please answer my question?”

“The answer is yes.”

“Then I’m ready to deliver the murderer and the weapon, but there is the matter of procedure to consider. I can invite the district attorney to my house and give him the weapon and two excellent witnesses, and let him get the culprit. Or I can do that with you. I don’t like either of those because I have been at considerable expense and I have earned a fee, and I want to be paid, and there is plenty of money in that family. I want the family to know what I have done, and how, and the most effective and impressive way to inform them is to have them present when I produce the weapon and identify the murderer. If I invite them they won’t come. You can bring them. If you’ll — please let me finish. If you’ll have them at my house at eleven o’clock, all of them, I’ll be there to receive you, and you’ll get all you need and more. Three hours from now. I hope you’ll oblige me because I like dealing with you better than with the district attorney.”

“I ought to appreciate that,” Cramer said, hoarser than ever. “You’re home now. You’ve been home all night. You knew damn well the bullet would match, and you knew as soon as we checked it we’d be on you, and you didn’t want to be bothered until morning so you could spring this on me. In half an hour we’ll have a search warrant for your house, and we’ll have warrants for you and Goodwin as material witnesses.”

“Indeed. Then forgive me if I ring off. I have a call to make.”

“Yeah. You would. By God, you would. I let you have those reports and this is what I get for it. Who do you want there?”

“The five people named Jarrell, and Miss Kent and Mr. Foote. At eleven o’clock.”

“Sure, I know. Until eleven you’ll be up with your goddamn orchids. We mustn’t interfere with that.”

He hung up. So did we.

“You know,” I said, “I think the orchids irritate him. I’ve noticed it before. Maybe you should get rid of them. Do I answer the phone now?”

“Yes. Miss Bonner and Saul and Fred and Orrie are going to call between nine and nine-thirty. Tell them to come at eleven. If the Jarrells are to be properly impressed they should see all of them.”

“Okay. But it wouldn’t hurt if I knew in advance which one to keep an eye on. I know darned well it’s not Roger Foote.”

He looked up at the wall clock. “It’s early. Very well.”