The Doorbell Rang (The Rex Stout Library)

He left his chair to come, said he was Frank Odell, and offered a hand. It would have been simpler if he had had a room to himself; possibly she didn't know she was cooped up with a jailbird. I said I was Archie Goodwin, got out my case, and handed him a card. He gave it a good look, stuck it in his pocket, and said, "My goodness, I should have recognized you. From your picture in the paper."

My picture hadn't been in the paper for fourteen months, and he had been behind bars, but I didn't make an issue of it. "I'm beginning to show my years," I told him. "Can you give me a few minutes? Nero Wolfe has taken on a little job involving a man named Morris Althaus and he thinks you might be able to furnish some information."

He didn't bat an eye. No wilt. He merely said, "That's the man that was murdered."

"Right. Of course the police have been around about that. Routine. This is just a private investigation on a side issue."

"If you mean the police have been here, they haven't. We might as well sit down." He moved to his desk, and I followed and took a chair at its end. "What's the side issue?" he asked.

"It's a little complicated. It's about some research he was doing at the time he was killed. You may know something about it if you saw him during that period-say the month of November, last November. Did you see him around then?"

"No, the last time I saw him was two years ago. In a courtroom. When some people that I thought were friends of mine were making me the goat. Why would the police be seeing me?"

"Oh, in a murder case they can't crack they see everybody." I waved it away. "What you say about being made the goat, that's interesting. It might have some bearing on what we want to know, whether Althaus was in the habit of doctoring his stuff. Was he one of the friends who made you the goat?"

"My goodness, no. He wasn't a friend. I only met him twice, while he was doing that piece, or getting ready to. He was looking for bigger fish. I was just a hustler, working for Bruner Realty."

"Bruner Realty?" I wrinkled my brow. "I don't remember that name in connection with the case. Of course I'm not any too familiar with it. Then it was your friends in Bruner Realty who made you the goat?"