“J. Edgar Hoover.”
He made an unseemly noise. “Just a whisper, to me?”
“No.”
“But it’s open that Wolfe is working on the Fromm murder?”
“Yes. Just that.”
“And the boy, Peter Drossos? And Matthew Birch? Them too?”
I gave him a look. “How come?”
“Oh, for God’s sake. Wolfe’s ad in the Times wanting to date a woman wearing spider earrings who had asked a boy at Ninth Avenue and Thirty-fifth Street to get a cop. Mrs. Fromm was wearing spider earrings, and you were here yesterday asking about her. As for Birch, the pattern. His body was found in a secluded spot, flattened by a car, and so was Mrs. Fromm’s. I repeat the question.”
“I answer it. Nero Wolfe is investigating the murder of Mrs. Fromm with his accustomed vigor, skill, and laziness. He will not rest until he gets the bastard or until bedtime, whichever comes first. Any mention you make of other murders should come on another page.”
“No connection implied?”