If Death Ever Slept

Jarrell spoke. “They all know that this is about Eber, and I’ve hired you, and that’s all. I’ve told them it’s a conference, a family conference, and it’s off the record.”

“Then I should clarify it.” Wolfe cleared his throat. “If by ‘off the record’ you mean that I am pledged to divulge nothing that is said, I must dissent. I’m not a lawyer and cannot receive a privileged communication. If you mean that this proceeding is confidential and none of it will be disclosed except under constraint of law, if it ever applies, that’s correct.”

“Don’t shuffle, Wolfe. I’m your client.”

“Only if we understand each other.” Wolfe’s eyes went left to right and back again. “Then that’s understood. I believe none of you know about the disappearance of Mr. Jarrell’s gun. You have to know that. Since his secretary, Mr. Green, was present when its absence was discovered, I’ll ask him to tell you. Mr. Green?”

I had known that would come, but not that he would pick on me first. Their heads were turned to me. Lois twisted clear around in her chair, and her face was only arm’s length away. I reported. Not as I had reported to Wolfe, no dialogue, but all the main action, from the time Jarrell had dashed into my room until we left the library. I had their faces.

The face that left me first was Trella’s. She turned it to her husband and protested. “You might have told us, Otis!”

Corey Brigham asked me, “Has the gun been found?” Then he went to Jarrell too. “Has it?”

Wolfe took over. “No, it has not been found. It has not been looked for. In my opinion Mr. Jarrell should have had a search made at once, calling in the police if necessary, but it must be allowed that it was a difficult situation for him. By the way, Mr. Green, did you get the impression that Mr. Jarrell suspected anyone in particular?”

I hoped I got him right. Since he had asked it he wanted it answered, but he hadn’t asked what Jarrell had said, only if I had got an impression. I gave him what I thought he wanted. “Yes, I did. I might have been wrong, but I had the feeling that he thought he knew who had taken it. It was-”

“Goddamn it,” Jarrell blurted, “you knew what I thought! I didn’t think, I knew! If it’s out let it come all the way out!” He aimed a finger at Susan. “You took it!”

Dead silence. They didn’t look at Susan, they looked at him, all except Roger Foote, next to me. He kept his eyes on Wolfe, possibly deciding whether to place a bet on him.