If Death Ever Slept

I didn’t like him, but I was feeling sorry for him. A man of my broad sympathies must make allowances. If she was as slick a snake as he thought she was, and he should have been a good judge of slickness, he was out of luck. Of course the idea that Wolfe would consider getting along without me at hand, to be called on for anything from typing a letter to repelling an invasion in force, was ludicrous. It was hard enough to get away for week ends. Add to that Wolfe’s rule against spouse-snooping, and where was he?

So I was feeling sorry for him when I heard Wolfe say, “You realize, Mr. Jarrell, that there could be no commitment as to how long he would stay there. I might need him.”

“Yes, certainly. I realize that.”

“And the job itself, the nominal job. Isn’t there a danger that it would be apparent that he isn’t qualified for it?”

“No, none whatever. Not even to Miss Kent, my stenographer. No secretary I hired would know how I operate until I broke him in. But there’s a detail to consider, the name. Of course his name is not as widely known as yours, but it is known. He’ll have to use another name.”

I had recovered enough to risk my voice. Unquestionably Wolfe had figured that, taken by surprise, I would raise a squawk, giving him an out, and equally unquestionably he was damned well going to be disappointed. I admit that after the jolt he had given me I was relieved when my voice came out perfectly okay. “About the name, Mr. Jarrell.” I was talking to him, not to Wolfe. “Of course I’ll have to take some luggage, quite a lot since I may stay indefinitely, and mine has my initials on it. The usual problem. A.G. Let’s see. How about Abe Goldstein?”

Jarrell, regarding me, screwed his lips. “I don’t think so. No. I’ve got nothing against Jews, especially when they need money, but you don’t look it. No.”

“Well, I’ll try again. I suppose you’re right, I ought to look it. How about Adonis Guilfoyle?”

He laughed. It started with a cackle, then he threw his head back and roared. It tapered off to another cackle before he spoke.

“One thing about me, I’ve got a sense of humor. I could appreciate you, Goodwin, don’t think I couldn’t. We’ll get along. You’d better let me try. A. Alan? That’s all right. G. Green? Why not? Alan Green.”

“Okay.” I arose. “It hasn’t got much flavor, but it’ll do. It will take me a little while to pack, fifteen or twenty minutes.” I moved.

“Archie! Sit down.”