“What is it? Right here will do.”
He moved to the wall, and I faced him. Purley made it a triangle. “At the DA’s office,” I said, “they told me to go on home. Instead, I came here to find you. You heard Mr. Wolfe there Tuesday, saying that I was his client. That was a swell gag, but also he more or less meant it — enough so that he sent me out to see if I could start some fur flying, and with luck I did, and last night they all came—”
“I know all about that.”
“Okay. I felt some responsibility about Priscilla Eads. I grant it was only bad luck that my using her for a stunt ended like that, but naturally I wanted to put a hand on the bastard that arranged the ending—”
“I know about that too. Get to it.”
“I’m getting. This Sarah Jaffee is something else. It wasn’t just bad luck. While she was telling me on the phone about her keys being gone, he was there in the closet waiting for her. I undertook to tell her what to do. Thinking that there was maybe one chance in a hundred that he was somewhere in the apartment — not more than that because I didn’t know any reason for anyone wanting her dead, and I still don’t — I told her what to do. I could have told her to run to an open window and start screaming, and that might have saved her. Or I could have told her to grab something to fight with — there was a stool right there at the phone — and back up to a wall and start yelling and pounding on the wall until someone came. That might not only have saved her but caught him. But I didn’t. I had something better. I didn’t want to put him to the trouble of sneaking up on her, so I told her to go to him. I told her to go to the foyer and cross to the outside door, because that would take her within a few feet of the closet where he was hiding, and as he heard her approaching and passing, he could swing the door and take just one step, and wham. I told her just how to do it, and she followed instructions, though she had admitted to me that she was a coward. Hell, that wasn’t just luck.”
“What do you want, a medal?” Cramer rasped.
“No, thanks. I want a chance to touch him. Feeling as I do, I will not go home and sit on my ass while waiting for Mr. Wolfe to have a fit of genius, and go to bed at bedtime. It happens that I can help, and I would like to. For instance, of course everyone who was there last night has been questioned, but you won’t finish with them until and unless it has been cracked. It was at Mr. Wolfe’s office last night that her keys were taken. That must have been while my back was turned, because I have good eyes and I was using them last night. If one of them is being questioned now, I suggest that I be allowed to sit in and to offer comments if and when my memory says that one is needed, and that we go on that way until you get him. I claim to be qualified by the fact that I was present last night, with my eyes open, and I know more about when the keys could have been taken and when they couldn’t than anybody could learn in a month of questioning. Also I will be glad to help in any other way that may be useful, except that I will not take Lieutenant Rowcliff’s hand to lead him across the street.”
He grunted. “A typical Wolfe approach.”
“No. My one talk with Mr. Wolfe was at nine this morning with a lieutenant standing by and a sergeant listening in. This is strictly personal, as described, purely because I don’t expect to feel like sleeping for a while.”