“If you please,” Wolfe said sharply. “You don’t need my office for exchanging your opinions of one another; you can do that anywhere. We have work to do. Mr. Talbott, you asked if I’ve accepted a job that has been offered me. I have. I have engaged to investigate the murder of Sigmund Keyes. But I have received no confidences and can still decline it. Have you a better offer? What did you come here for?”
Talbott smiled at him. “That’s the way to talk,” he said admiringly. “No, I have nothing to offer in the way of a job, but I felt I ought to be in on this. I figured it this way: they were going to hire you to get me arrested for murder, so naturally you would like to have a look at me and ask me some questions — and here I am.”
“Pleading not guilty, of course. Archie. A chair for Mr. Talbott.”
“Of course,” he agreed, thanking me with a smile for the chair I brought, and sitting down. “Otherwise you’d have no job. Shoot.” Suddenly he flushed. “Under the circumstances, I guess I shouldn’t have said ‘shoot.’”
“You could have said ‘Fire away,’ “Wayne Safford piped up from the rear.
“Be quiet, Wayne,” Audrey Rooney scolded him.
“Permit me—” Broadyke began, but Wolfe cut him off.
“No. Mr. Talbott has invited questions.” He focused on the inviter. “These other people think the police are handling this matter stupidly and ineffectively. Do you agree, Mr. Talbott?”
Vic considered a moment, then nodded. “On the whole, yes,” he assented.
“Why?”