Over My Dead Body

"I can assure you," Wolfe said sympathetically, "that Mr Goodwin's errand was neither to prevent nor to provoke murder. We really didn't know there was to be one."

"Oh, I know all about his errand. Driscoll's diamonds. To hell with that. Let's be reasonable. There was Goodwin, alone right at the front door for six or seven minutes after he came downstairs with Mrs Miltan, before the radio men got there. Then they left him alone again until the precinct men arrived. He knew from the beginning what a murder investigation means for those on the premises when the squad gets on the job. If he wanted to get away and get to you to report, all he had to do was walk right out and get in his car and go. Instead of that, he waits until the precinct men come and one of them is stationed at the door, then he goes to the office and stands there and looks around, and all of a sudden he grabs his hat and coat, sneaks down to the basement, pulls a gun and scares the daylights out of a coloured porter who-"

"He had no daylights left in him."

"Shut up. Tells the porter to stay where he is, takes a ladder to the rear court and climbs the fence and talks about his wife's cat and pretends to fall off, beats it through a kitchen and a restaurant to 49th Street, and jumps a taxi and tells the driver he likes to go fast. And he tells me nothing happened between the time the precinct men came and the time he reached for his coat! I ask you, what does that sound like?"

"It sounds like a delayed cerebral process. I am accustomed to it-unfortunately."

"It sounds bughouse. And Goodwin's not bughouse."

"No, he isn't. Not quite. Will you have some beer?"

"No, thank you."