“No!”
“Would you care to hear how I spent the day?”
“Care to? No. But how the devil can I escape it?”
I reported in full. Gradually, as he progressed to his third glass of beer and on through it, the wrinkles of his scowl smoothed out some. Apparently he was paying no attention to me, but I had long ago learned not to worry about that. It would all be available any time he needed it. When I finished he grunted.
“How many of those five people could you have here at eleven in the morning?”
“As it stands now? With no more bait?”
“Yes.”
“I wouldn’t bet on one, but I’m ready to try. I might get something useful from Lon Cohen if I buy him a thick enough steak — and by the way, I ought to call him.”
“Do so. Invite him to dine with us.”
On the face of it that suggestion was gracious and generous, and maybe it was, but the situation was complicated. If we had been engaged on the case in the usual manner, and, after dope, I had taken Lon to Pierre’s for a feed, it would of course have gone on the expense account and we would have been reimbursed. But this was different. If I listed it as an expense Wolfe was stuck unless he billed me as client. If I didn’t list it I was stuck and there could be no deduction on an income-tax report, either Wolfe’s or mine, which wouldn’t do at all.