The Second Confesion

Is he a ninny?” “If I thought so,” I said emphatically, “I don't now. Not if he's raking in profits on a Boston restaurant and a Manhattan ballet. I misjudged him. Three to one I know where the photostat of Jimmy's cheque is. In a safe at the office of Murphy, Kearfot and Rony.” “I suppose so. Anything else, Saul?” I wouldn't have been surprised if the next item had been that Jimmy had cleaned up a million playing the ponies or running a chicken farm, but evidently he hadn't tried them yet. Saul and Orrie stayed a while, long enough to have a drink and discuss ways and means of laying hands on the Republican or Democratic spy, and then left. When I returned to the office after letting them out I considered whether to get rid of the comments I had prepared regarding the importance of evidence in criminal cases, and decided to skip it.

I would just as soon have gone up to bed to give my bruises a rest, but it was only half-past nine and my middle drawer was stuffed with memos and invoices connected with the repairs on the roof. I piled them on the desk and tackled them. It had begun to look as if Wolfe's estimate of the amount of the damage wasn't far off, and maybe too low if you included replacement of some of the rarer hybrids that had got rough treatment. Wolfe, seeing what I was at, offered to help, and I moved the papers over to his desk. But, as I had often discovered before, a man shouldn't try to run a detective business and an orchid factory at the same time. They're always tripping over each other. We hadn't been at the papers five minutes when the doorbell rang. I usually go when it's after nine o'clock, the hour when Fritz changes to his old slippers, so I went.

I switched on the stoop light, looked through the one-way glass panel, opened the door, said, “Hello, come in,” and Gwenn Sperling crossed the threshold.

I closed the door and turned to her. “Want to see the worm?” I gestured. “That way.” “You don't seem surprised!” she blurted.

“It's my training. I hide it to impiess you. Actually I'm overcome. That way?” She moved and I followed. She entered the office, advanced three steps, and stopped, and I detoured around her.

“Good evening, Miss Sperling,” Wolfe said pointedly. He indicated the red leather chair. That's the best chair.” “Did I phone you I was coming?” she demanded.