If Death Ever Slept

He might not have spoken as far as Wolfe was concerned. He took up where he left off. “I’m not asking for much. You already have some of that and will now be getting the rest of it, and all you need to do is let Mr. Goodwin copy the reports of their movements. That will reveal no departmental secrets, and that’s all I want. I’m not haggling. If you refuse my request you’ll get what you came for anyway; I have no choice. I make the request in advance only because as soon as I give you the information you’ll be leaving. You’ll have urgent business and you wouldn’t wait to hear me. Will you oblige me?”

“I’ll see. I’ll consider it. Come on, spill it.”

Wolfe turned to me. “Archie?”

Since I had been instructed I didn’t have to ask him what to spill. I was to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth about the gun, and that was all. I did so, beginning with Jarrell dashing into my room at 6:20 Wednesday afternoon, and ending twenty-four hours later in Wolfe’s office, with my report to him. When I finished Purley was on the edge of his chair, his jaw clamped, looking holes through me. Cramer was looking at Wolfe.

“Goddamn you,” he said. “Four days. You’ve had this four days.”

“Goodwin’s had it five days,” Purley said.

“Yeah.” Cramer transferred to me. “Okay, go on.”

I shook my head. “I’m through.”

“Like hell you’re through. You’ll be surprised. If you-”

“Mr. Cramer,” Wolfe cut in. “Now that you have it, use it. Railing at us won’t help any. If you think a charge of obstructing justice will hold, get a warrant, but I advise against it. I think you’d regret it. As soon as the possibility became a probability I acted. And when it was merely a possibility I explored it. I had them all here, on Friday, including Mr. Brigham, and told them that the gun must be produced. Yesterday, when the news came about Brigham, it was touch and go. Today, when Mr. Goodwin learned about the bullets, it became highly probable, but I felt that I owed my client at least a gesture, and I had them here again. It was fruitless. I repaid Mr. Jarrell’s retainer, dismissed them, and phoned you. I will not be squawked at. I have endured enough. Either get a warrant, or forget me and go to work on it.”

“Four days,” Cramer said. “When I think what we’ve been doing those four days. What are you hanging on to? What else have you got? Which one was it?”