The Second Confesion

“What you were saying. If you want me to work on this, all I expect is to get paid. If I get anything for you, then it's yours. My mouth doesn't need any special arrangement to keep it shut.” Wolfe nodded. “I know you're discreet, Saul. All of you are. But this time what you'll get for me may be evidence that would convict a murderer if it were used, and there's a possibility that it may not be used. That would be a strain.” “Yes, sir. I'll make out all right. If you can stand it I can.” “What the hell,” Fred blurted. “I don't get it. What do you think we'd do, play pattycake with the cops?” “It's not that,” Orrie told him impatiently. “He knows how we like cops. Maybe you never heard about having a conscience,” “Never did. Describe it to me.” “I can't I'm too sophisticated to have one and you're too primitive.” “Then there's no problem.” “There certainly isn't.” Orrie raised his glass. “Here's to crime, Mr Wolfe.

There's no problem.” He drank.

Wolfe poured beer. “Well,” he said, “now you know what this is like. The contingency I have described may never arise, but it had to be foreseen. With that understood we can proceed. Unless we have some luck this could drag on for weeks. Mr Sperling's adroit stroke in persuading a man of standing to sign that confounded statement, not merely a chauffeur or other domestic employee has made it excessively difficult. There is one possibility which I shall have explored by a specialist-none of you is equipped for it-but meanwhile we must see what we can find. Archie, tell Fred about the people who work there. All of them.” I did so, typing the names for him. If my weekend at Stony Acres had been purely social, I wouldn't have been able to give him a complete list, from the butler to the third assistant gardener, but during the examinations Monday night and Tuesday morning I had got well informed. As I briefed Fred on them he made notes on the typed list “Anyone special?” Fred asked Wolfe.