“We’re loose all right,” I assured him. “I’ve been saving Sol Feder just for an emergency like this.”
It was only a five-minute ride. When I ushered them into the office Wolfe was there in his big custom-made chair behind his desk. He arose to greet them, invited them to sit, asked if they had breakfasted properly, and said that the news of their arrest had been an unpleasant shock.
“One thing,” Fred blurted, still standing. “We came to see you and consult you in confidence, and forty-eight hours later we were arrested. Was that pure coincidence?”
Wolfe finished getting himself re-established in his chair. “That won’t help us any, Mr. Weppler,” he said without resentment. “If that’s your frame of mind you’d better go somewhere and cool off. You and Mrs. Mion are my clients. An insinuation that I am capable of acting against the interest of a client is too childish for discussion. What did the police ask you about?”
But Fred wasn’t satisfied. “You’re not a double-crosser,” he conceded. “I know that. But what about Goodwin here? He may not be a double-crosser either, but he might have got careless in conversation with someone.”
Wolfe’s eyes moved. “Archie. Did you?”
“No, sir. But he can postpone asking my pardon. They’ve had a hard night.” I looked at Fred. “Sit down and relax. If I had a careless tongue I wouldn’t last at this job a week.”
“It’s damn funny,” Fred persisted. He sat. “Mrs. Mion agrees with me. Don’t you, Peggy?”
Peggy, in the red leather chair, gave him a glance and then looked back at Wolfe. “I did, I guess,” she confessed. “Yes, I did. But now that I’m here, seeing you—” She made a gesture. “Oh, forget it! There’s no one else to go to. We know lawyers, of course, but we don’t want to tell a lawyer what we know — about the gun. We’ve already told you. But now the police suspect something, and we’re out on bail, and you’ve got to do something!”
“What did you find out Monday evening?” Fred demanded. “You stalled when I phoned yesterday. What did they say?”