Amy Wynn’s nose had been twitching. Her clasped hands were resting on the edge of the table. She was up against it, since Reuben Imholf wasn’t there for her to look at. “I really don’t think,” she said, “that I should take a position on this. Because I’m in the same-”
“Louder, Miss Wynn, please.”
She raised her voice a little. “I’m in the same position that Mr Oshin was. The man that made the claim against him is dead, but the woman that has made a claim against me, Alice Porter, is still alive. Nero Wolfe says that my case is different, that the story she bases her claim on wasn’t written by the man who wrote the others, that Alice Porter wrote it herself, but that doesn’t really matter, because he wrote the story that she used for her claim against Ellen Sturdevant, so if he’s caught and it all comes out she’ll be caught too, and I’ll be out from under too, as Mr Oshin put it. So I still have a personal interest, a strong personal interest, and I don’t think I should take a position. Perhaps I shouldn’t be on the committee. I’ll resign if you think I ought to.”
“Damn fine committee,” someone muttered. “They’re
A compact, broad-shouldered guy about my age with sharp dark eyes passed his tongue over his lips. “It’s not a very complicated situation legally,” he said. “There should be a letter to Mr Wolfe stating definitely and specifically that you have engaged him to investigate the plagiarism claims and nothing else. Then if he does something that causes him to be charged with some offense against the law, for instance withholding evidence or obstructing justice, no matter what, you wouldn’t be liable legally. Of course there could be bad publicity, there might be a stigma because you had hired him, but it’s not actionable to hire a man who breaks a law while he is in your employ unless his offense is committed under your direction or with your knowledge and consent. If you decide to send such a letter I’ll be glad to draft it if you want me to.”