“You see,” he told Cramer. “I’m afraid we can’t permit the dog’s removal.”
“Nuts. I’m taking it.”
“Indeed? What writ have you? Replevin? Warrant for arrest as a material witness?”
Cramer opened his mouth and shut it again. He put his elbows on the chair arms, interlaced his fingers, and leaned forward. “Look. You and Meegan check, either because you’re both telling it straight, or because you’ve framed it, I don’t know which, and we’ll see. But I’m taking the dog. Kampf, the man who was killed, lived on Perry Street, a few blocks away from Arbor Street. He arrived at twenty-nine Arbor Street, with the dog on a leash, about five-twenty this afternoon. The janitor of the house, named Olsen, lives in the basement, and he was sitting at his front window, and he saw Kampf arrive with the dog and turn in at the entrance. About ten minutes later he saw the dog come out, with no leash, and right after the dog a man came out. The man was Victor Talento, a lawyer, the tenant of the ground-floor apartment. Talento says he left his apartment to go to an appointment, saw the dog in the hall, thought it was a stray, and chased it out, and that’s all he knows. Anyhow, Olsen says Talento walked off, and the dog stayed there on the sidewalk.”
Cramer unlaced his fingers and sat back. “About twenty minutes later, around ten minutes to six, Olsen heard someone yelling his name and went to the rear and up one flight to the ground-floor hall. Two men were there, a live one and a dead one. The live one was Ross Chaffee, a painter, the tenant of the top-floor studio — that’s the fourth floor. The dead one was the man that had arrived with the dog. He had been strangled with the dog’s leash, and the body was at the bottom of the stairs leading up. Chaffee says he found it when he came down to go to an appointment, and that’s all he knows. He stayed there while Olsen went downstairs to phone. A squad car arrived at five-fifty-eight. Sergeant Stebbins arrived at six-ten. Goodwin arrived at six-ten. Excellent timing.”
Wolfe merely grunted. Cramer continued, “You can have it all. The dog’s leash was in the pocket of Kampf’s raincoat, which was on him. The laboratory says it was used to strangle him. The routine is still in process. I’ll answer questions within reason. The four tenants of the house were all there when Kampf arrived: Victor Talento, the lawyer, on the ground floor; Richard Meegan, whose job you say you wouldn’t take, second floor; Jerome Aland, a night-club performer, third floor; and Ross Chaffee, the painter with the studio. Aland says he was sound asleep until we banged on his door and took him down to look at the corpse. Meegan says he heard nothing and knows nothing.”
Cramer sat forward again. “Okay, what happened? Kampf went there to see one of those four men, and had his dog with him. It’s possible he took the leash off in the lower hall to leave the dog there, but I doubt it. At least it’s just as possible that he took the dog along to the door of one of the apartments, and the dog was wet and the tenant wouldn’t let it enter, so Kampf left it outside. Another possibility is that the dog was actually present when Kampf was killed, but we’ll know more about that after we see and handle the dog. The particular thing we want — we’re going to take the dog in that house and see which door it goes to. We’re going to do that now. There’s a man out in my car who knows dogs.” Cramer stood up.
Wolfe shook his head. “You must be hard put. You say Mr. Kampf lived on Perry Street. With a family?”
“No. Bachelor. Some kind of a writer. He didn’t have to make a living; he had means.”
“Then the beast is orphaned. He’s in your room, Archie?”