“You have of course inquired about the payments made to Alice Porter, Simon Jacobs, and Jane Ogilvy, in settlement of the claims. If our theory is sound, substantial portions of those payments eventually found their way to another person.”
“Certainly.”
“Then who?”
“There is no record. In each case the check settling the claim was deposited and then a large amount was withdrawn in cash. We’re still on that, but it looks hopeless.”
“A moment ago, speaking of Mrs Jacobs, you said, ‘She says.’ Do you question her candor?”
“No. I think she’s straight.”
“And she has no idea where her husband was going, or whom he was going to see, when he went out Monday evening?”
“No.”
“Did he have anything with him that was not found on his body?”
“If he did she doesn’t know it.”
Wolfe shut his eyes. In a moment he opened them. “It is remarkable,” he remarked, “how little a large group of competent trained investigators can gather in a night and a day. I intend no offense. You can’t pick plums in a desert. Archie. Type this with two carbons: ‘I acknowledge receipt of (list the items) from Nero Wolfe, as a personal loan to me. I guarantee to return all of the above-named items, intact, to Nero Wolfe not later than seven p.m. Friday, May 29th, 1959.’ Make a package of the items.”
“One thing,” Cramer said. He put the cigar in the ashtray on the stand at his elbow. “You’ve got a client. That committee.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Okay, that’s your business. My business is to investigate homicides as an officer of the law. I’ve answered your questions because you’ve got something I need and we made a deal, but that doesn’t mean I’m sanctioning your horning in on
“I won’t.” Wolfe eyed him. “I promise you, Mr Cramer, that I will never plead your sanction to justify my conduct. My engagement with my client is to catch a swindler. Apparently he is also a murderer, and if so your claim will be superior. If and when I get him I’ll bear that in mind. I don’t suppose you challenge my right to expose a swindler?”