The Second Confesion

Back in the office, Fritz had entered to remove glasses and bottles. I stood and stretched and yawned.

“Sit down,” Wolfe said peevishly.

“You don't have to take it out on me,” I complained, obeying. “I can't help it if you're a genius, as Paul Emerson says, but the best you can do is to stick Fred on the hired help and start Saul and Orrie hunting ratholes. God knows I have no bright suggestions, but then I'm not a genius. Who is my meat? Aloysius Murphy? Emerson?” He grunted. “The others replied to the question I put. You didn't.” “Nuts. My worry about this murderer, if there is one, is not what you'll do with him after you get him, but whether you're going to get him.” I gestured. “If you do, he's yours. Get him two thousand volts or a DSO-as you please. Will you need my help?” “Yes. But you may be disqualified. I told you last week to establish a personal friendship,” “So you did. So I did.” “But not with the right person. I would like to take advantage of your acquaintance with the elder Miss Sperling, but you may balk. You may have scruples.” “Much obliged. It would depend on the kind of advantage. If all I'm after is facts, scruples are out. She knows I'm a detective and she knows where we stand, so it's up to her. If it turns out that she killed Rony I'll help you pin the medal on her. What is it you want?” “I want you to go up there tomorrow morning.” “Glad to. What for?” He told me.

CHAPTER Seventeen

Like all good drivers, I don't need my mind for country driving, just my eyes and ears and reflexes. So when we're on a case and I'm at the wheel of the car in the open, I'm usually gnawing away at the knots. But as I rolled north on the parkways that fine sunny June morning I had to find something else to gnaw on, because in that case I couldn't tell a knot from a doughnut. There was no puzzle to it; it was merely a grab bag. So I let my mind skip around as it pleased, now and then concentrating on the only puzzle in sight, which was this: had Wolfe sent me up here because he thought I might really get something, or merely to get me out of the way while he consulted his specialist? I didn't know. I took it for granted that the specialist was Mr Jones, whom I had never been permitted to meet, though Wolfe had made use of him on two occasions that I knew of. Mr Jones was merely the name he had given me off-hand when I had had to make an entry in the expense book.