Over My Dead Body

At a quarter to ten we finally left the dining-table, returned to the office, switched on the lights, and sat down to wait. Various developments had occurred. The doorbell had rung three times, unheeded, and the phone somewhat oftener. At the finish of the salad I had left Wolfe alone with the green tomato pie and gone to the darkened front room for a peek around the window curtain. Two men in plain clothes were on the sidewalk, standing there with their hands in their pockets, looking chilly and frustrated. I gave them a Bronx cheer and went to the kitchen and used the phone. Johnny Keems and Orrie Cather were out, and I left a message for them to call the office. I got Fred Durkin and Saul Panzer and told them I was just making contact and they were to await possible orders, and informed Saul about the envelope he would receive in the morning mail. I took it for granted that the number which had been jotted on his memo pad by Fritz, who had been answering the phone as instructed, was the number of the Miltan studio, but I verified it anyway by looking in the book, and told Fritz to call it and convey the message that Mr Wolfe and Mr Goodwin were now both at home and at leisure. Then I went back to the dining-room and joined Wolfe at the coffee.

Our wait, after we returned to the office, was a short one. We hadn't been there more than five minutes when the doorbell called me to the front. As I opened the door I was expecting a brace of sergeants at the most, and was really surprised when I saw a single familiar figure confronting me, with a felt hat cocked over one of the half-buried, irate eyes, and an unlit cigar tilted up from a corner of the wide, determined mouth.

"Honoured," I declared, standing aside to give him passage. "Deeply honoured."

"Go to hell," Inspector Cramer growled, entering. I shut the door and took his hat and coat and disposed of them, and followed him into the office.

Wolfe offered a hand, greeted him nicely, and said this was a pleasure he hadn't had for some months.

"Yeah. Quite a pleasure." Cramer sat down, took the cigar from his mouth, scowled at me, replaced the cigar at a better angle, and spoke.