“Sure. Only it’s too bad you’re not a preacher.”
“It certainly is, if you want one. What I want to ask, I would like very much to have a talk with you, this evening, if possible, because I’ll be in the city only a short while. I want to tell you about the Dayton Community Health Center, and, frankly, we thought you might be willing to help us out with a small contribution. You see, the fame of your generosity in matters of community health work has gone pretty far. And I’d like to tell you what we’re doing and planning. I promise not to take much of your time. Perhaps I could run up to see you right now? I could be there in twenty minutes.”
“I don’t—” A pause. “I’m particularly interested in health work.”
“I know you are,” I said warmly.
“The reason I spoke about a preacher, I’m going to be married. We just decided to, just before the phone rang.”
“Well! That’s just fine! I can be there in twenty minutes. Of course I shouldn’t butt in, but I won’t be in the city—”
“That’s all right. Come ahead. Come on and come ahead.”
“Thank you very much.”
I pushed the phone back and told Wolfe, “Lit. Not plastered, but lit.”
He was busy pouring beer, which Fritz had brought, and uttered only a low growl. Nor did he make any comment as he observed me returning the gun, still lying on my desk, to my side coat-pocket, and arranging its little brother, which I got from a drawer, in an armpit holster of my own design.