“Yes, sir. Horan wants to speak with you. Now. Urgent.”
“Does he know Mr. Cramer and Mr. Stebbins are here?”
“No, sir.”
Wolfe went to Cramer. “This man Horan is a hyena, and he irritates me. I should think you would prefer to deal with him on your own premises — and also the other two. Why don’t you take them?”
Cramer regarded him. He took the cigar from his mouth, held it half a minute, and put it back between his teeth. “I would have thought,” he said, not positively, “that I have seen you work all the dodges there are, but this is new. I’m damned if I get it. You had Horan and that lawyer Maddox here, and you chased them. The same with Paul Kuffner. Now Horan and the other two, there in your front room, and you don’t even want to see them, and still you claim you’re after the murderer. I know you too well to ask you why, but by God I’d like to find out.” He swiveled his head around to Fred. “Bring Horan in here.”
Fred, not moving, looked at Wolfe. Wolfe heaved a sigh. “All right, Fred.”
Chapter 14
For a second I thought Dennis Horan was actually going to turn and scoot. He came wheeling in like a man with a purpose, stopped short when he saw we had company, forward marched four steps, recognized Cramer, and stopped short again. That was when I thought he was going to skedaddle.
“Oh,” he said. “I don’t want to butt in.”
“Not at all,” Cramer assured him. “Sit down. We were just talking about you. If you’ve got something to say, go right ahead. I’ve been told how you happen to be here.”