“Mr. Regan came to consult my office. If you would prefer to have him do the talking—”
“Not at all. Go ahead. But another point — not a legal one, but still a point — you say you have evidence that Noel Hawthorne was murdered at the home of John Charles Dunn, while he was a guest there, and when Mr. Dunn was present. Wouldn’t it have been usual and proper to advise Mr. Dunn himself first of all? Instead of broadcasting it? Particularly in view of his eminent position? Instead of tracing Mrs. Dunn to this place and bursting in here and blurting it in her face in the presence of a throng of people?”
The skin around the district attorney’s mouth and eyes had tightened. He said, “I don’t like your tone, Prescott.”
“Never mind my tone. What about my questions?”
“Nor your questions either. However, I’ll answer them. I tried for an hour to communicate with Mr. Dunn. As you must know, he is in Washington appearing before a Senate committee. I couldn’t get to him. Meanwhile I learned that Mrs. Dunn and her sisters had come to the office of Nero Wolfe. I have not broadcast this thing. Nothing would please me better than not to have to broadcast it at all. I am a political opponent, a bitter opponent, of Secretary Dunn and the administration he adorns, but by God, I don’t fight with stink bombs and you ought to know it, whether Miss May Hawthorne does or not. Your insinuation that I came after Mrs. Dunn because I shied at tackling Dunn himself is unwarranted and offensive. Mr. Regan came and laid evidence before me and asked my help. Before the evidence can be interpreted with certainty, information is needed from Mrs. Dunn and probably others. I request her, and others if necessary, to co-operate with me in the performance of my duty.”
Prescott, looking utterly unimpressed, demanded, “What’s the evidence?”
“I don’t know. I can’t know until I get the information I want. I merely need some facts. Do you think I’m going to try any dodges with you sitting here?”
Skinner turned to Wolfe. “If you’d like us to move out of your office, perhaps—”
Wolfe shook his head. “Your business is more urgent than mine, sir. Archie, Fritz, more chairs.”
Fritz and I brought some from the front room. Naomi Karn had faded into the background, over by the bookshelves, and I gave her one there. She looked, I thought, pasty. The three youngsters moved to make room, Andrew Dunn closer to his mother, the others to the rear. Inspector Cramer went to the hall and came in again, accompanied by my old pal Sergeant Purley Stebbins, who ignored my greeting as he grabbed a chair from me, planted himself on it at a corner of my desk, and got out a notebook and pencil. My toe unfortunately rubbed against his shin as I got back to my own chair.