Please Pass the Guilt

Even on the 3 I couldn't charge him at some appropriate moment with having asked me to go too far, since we had no evidence that either of them had any chastity to surrender. The best spot in the metropolitan area at four o'clock on a Saturday afternoon in June is an upper box at Shea Stadium, but I wasn't there that Saturday. I was sitting in the cockpit of a thirty-foot boat, removing a flounder the size of my open hand from the hook at the end of Sylvia Venner's line. The object I enjoy most removing from a hook is a sixteen-inch rainbow or Dolly Varden or cutthroat, but there aren't any in Long Island Sound. We had spent a couple of hours trying for stripers or blues without a bite and had settled for salmon eggs on little hooks. The name of the boat was Happygolucky. I had borrowed it from a man named Sopko, who had once paid Wolfe $7,372.40, including expenses, for getting his son out of a deep hole he had stumbled into. Please Pass the Guilt 75 It was from Sylvia Venner herself, on the telephone Wednesday afternoon, that I had learned that she didn't care for baseball, didn't like dancing, had seen all the shows in town, and wouldn't enjoy dining at Rusterman's because she was on a diet. The idea of a boat had come from her. She said that she loved catching fish, all except actually touching one, but the soonest she could make it was Saturday. In fifty-six hours Saul and Fred and Orrie had produced nothing that would need help from me during the weekend. Friday evening I assembled the score for the two and a half days on a page of my notebook and got this: Number of CAN employes who thought or guessed or hinted --that Odell was putting the bomb in the drawer to get Browning 4 --that Browning planted the bomb to get Odell and somehow got Odell to go and open the drawer 1 --that Dennis Copes planted it to get Kenneth Meer 2 --that no one had planted it; the bomb was a leftover from the research for the program and was supposed to be de-activated 2 --that Sylvia Venner had planted it to get Browning I --that Helen Lugos had planted it to get Kenneth Meer 2 --that Kenneth Meer had planted it to get Helen Lugos 1 --that some kind of activist had planted it to get just anybody 3 --that it would never be known who had planted it for whom 8 If you skipped that I don't blame you; I include it only because I didn't want to waste the time I spent compiling it. It adds up to twenty-four, and they spoke with a total of about a 76 Please Pass the Guilt hundred people, so some seventy or eighty were keeping their thinking or guessing or hinting to themselves. Wolfe and I agreed, Friday evening, to ignore the favorite guess. The idea that Odell had himself supplied the bomb was out His wife would have known about it, and she would not have given Wolfe a hundred grand to start digging. Also why the LSD in his pocket? Because he was on the stuff and had it with him in case his nerves needed a boost? Cramer and the DA bad certainly included that in their tries and had chucked it So no. Out. One of the four who liked it was Dennis Copes, but that didn't prove anything. Saul's description of Copes was "5 feet 9, 160 pounds, brown hair down to his collar, sideburns that needed trimming, showy shirt and tie, neat plain gray HickeyPreeman suit, soft low-pitched voice, nervous hands." He had chatted with him twice and learned nothing useful. Of course he hadn't asked if he knew or thought he knew that Kenneth Meer had the habit of checking on the whisky in the drawer, and though he is as good as Wolfe at the trick of getting an answer to an unasked question, it hadn't worked with Copes. Actually nothing worked with anybody. I have just looked over my notes, and since there is nothing in them that helped us they certainly wouldn't help you. At four o'clock Saturday afternoon it looked as if I wasn't going to get anything helpful from Sylvia Venner either. She had stopped bothering about the dimples. In blue shorts and a white sleeveless shirt with big blue plastic buttons she was showing plenty of nice smooth skin with a medium tan, and her wellarranged face was the kind that looks even better in bright outdoor light than inside. While we were eating the broiled chicken supplied by Fritz, and yogurt and thin little tasteless crackers supplied by her, and pickles and raw carrots and celery, and she was drinking something called Four-Root Juice and I was drinking milk, she had suddenly said, "I suppose you know what etymology is." "Hah," I said. "I work for Nero Wolfe." Please Pass the Guilt 77 "Why," she said, "is that relevant?" "Certainly. He knows more words than Shakespeare knew." "Oh. I don't really know anything about him except what he does. They tried to get him on my program once, but he wouldn't, so I didn't have to research him. Are you up on words too?" "Not really. Just enough to get along on." "I think words are fascinating. I was thinking, looking at you while you were dropping the anchor, take words like 'pecker' and 'prick.' In their vulgar sense, or maybe I should say their colloquial sense." Without batting an eye I said, "You mean 'prick' as a noun. Not as a verb." She nodded. "Yes, a noun. It means 'a pointed instrument.* Tecker' means 'an instrument for pecking,' and 'peck' means *to strike repeatedly and often with a pointed instrument.' So the definition of 'pecker' and 'prick' is identical." "Sure. I've never looked them up, but evidently you have." "Of course. In Webster and in the OED. There's an OED at the office. Of course the point is that--well, well, there's a pun. 'Point.' The point is that they both begin with p, and 'penis' begins with p." "I'll be damned. It certainly does." "Yes. I think that may be relevant to that old saying, 'Watch your p's and q's.' But. But two other words, 'piss' and 'pee'-- p-double-e--they start with p too. What it is, it's male chauvinism."