“Orwin, sir.”
“I’ll see her.”
“Yes, sir.” Rowcliff turned to go.
“Wait a minute,” I objected. “Seal what up? The office?”
“Certainly,” Rowcliff sneered.
I said firmly, to Cramer, not to him, “You don’t mean it. We work there. We live there. All our stuff is there.”
“Go ahead, Lieutenant,” Cramer told Rowcliff, and he wheeled and went.
I set my jaw. I was full of both feelings and words, but I knew they had to be held in. This was not for me. This was far and away the worst Cramer had ever pulled. It was up to Wolfe. I looked at him. The blood had gone back down again; he was white with fury, and his mouth was pressed to so tight a line that there were no lips.
“It’s routine,” Cramer said aggressively.
Wolfe said icily, “That’s a lie. It is not routine.”