Some Buried Caesar (45 page)

His eyes were shut, and he was trying to move his shoulders. Another ten seconds. “Who gave you the tip on Leopold Heim?”

“I want the cops,” he said hoarsely.

“Right. Cut it, Fred.”

Instead of cutting it, he undid the half-hitch, unwrapped the wind, and eased the left toe back under the heel. Egan started to pump his knees, slowly and carefully.

“No calisthenics,” I told him. “Dial.”

He turned on his side, lifted the receiver, and started to dial. Saul and I both watched. He hit the right holes, CA 6-2000. I heard him get an answer, and he said, “Police headquarters?” Then he dropped the receiver back in place and said to me, “You sonofabitch, you would?”

“Certainly,” I told him, “I guaranteed it. Before we stimulate you again, a couple of points. You get
one more chance to call the cops, that’s all. You could keep this up all night. Second, it might be slick to come across now. If you’re taking it for granted that your address book will get to the cops anyway, you’re wrong. I’ll give it to Mr. Wolfe, and he’s working on a murder, and I don’t think he’ll feel like turning all those people over to the law. That’s not his lookout. I make no promise, but I’m telling you. All right, Fred. Pin him, Saul.”

That time we reversed it, crossing his left leg over his right, and we made the turns slightly tighter. Fred took the cord ends, and I returned to the chair. The reaction came quicker and stronger. In ten seconds his face began to twist. In ten more his forehead and neck went wet with sweat. His gray face got grayer, and his eyes opened and started to bulge. I was about to tell Fred to ease it a little when he gasped, “Let up!”

“Off a little, Fred. Just hold it. Was Birch in on the racket?”

“Yes!”

“Who’s the boss?”

“Birch was. Take that cord off!”

“In a minute. It’s better than pliers. Who’s the boss now?”

“I don’t know.”

“Nuts. The cord had better stay a while. Did you see Birch in a car with a woman last Tuesday afternoon?”

“Yes, but it wasn’t parked in front of Danny’s.”

“Slightly tighter, Fred. Where was it?”

“Going down Eleventh Avenue in the Fifties.”

“A dark gray Caddy sedan with a Connecticut plate?”

“Yes.”

“Was it Birch’s car?”

“I never saw it before. But Birch worked with a hot-car gang too, and of course that Caddy was hot. Everything Birch had a hand in was hot.”

“Yeah, he’s dead now, so why not? Who was the woman with him?”

“I don’t know. I was across the street and didn’t see. Take the cord off! No more until it’s off!”

He was breathing fast again, and his face was grayer, so I told Fred to give him a recess. When his legs had been unwound Egan thought he would bend them, then thought he would straighten them, then decided to postpone trying to move them.

I continued. “Didn’t you recognize the woman?”

“No.”

“Could you identify her?”

“I don’t think so. They just went by.”

“What time Tuesday afternoon?”

“Around half-past six, maybe a little later.”

I would take that, anyhow on consignment. Pete Drossos had said it was a quarter to seven when the woman in the car had told him to get a cop. I almost hated to ask the next question for fear of Egan disqualifying himself by answering it wrong.

“Who was driving, Birch?”

“No, the woman. That surprised me. Birch wasn’t a guy to have a woman driving him.”

I could have kissed the louse. He had made it twenty to one on Wolfe’s hit-or-miss assumption. I had a notion to get the photos of Jean Estey, Angela Wright, and Claire Horan from Fred’s envelope and ask Egan if the woman in the car had resembled one of them, but skipped it. He had said he couldn’t identify her, and he certainly wasn’t going to take on more load than he already had.

I asked him, “Who do you deliver the dough to?”

“Birch.”

“He’s dead. Who to now?”

“I don’t know.”

“I guess we took the cord off too soon. If Leopold Heim had paid you the ten grand or any part of it, what would you have done with it?”

“Held onto it until I got word.”

“Word from whom?”

“I don’t know.”

I got up. “The cord, Fred.”

“Wait a minute,” Egan pleaded. “You asked me where I got the tip on Leopold Heim. I got leads two ways, straight from Birch, and on the phone. A woman would call and give it to me.”

“What woman?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never seen her.”

“How would you know it wasn’t a trap? Just by her voice?”

“I knew her voice, but there’s a password.”

“What is it?”

Egan tightened his lips.

“You won’t be using it anymore,” I assured him, “so let’s have it.”

“‘Said a spider to a fly.’”

“What?”

“That’s the password. That’s how I got the lead on Leopold Heim. You asked who I would deliver dough to with Birch dead. I thought she would phone and tell me.”

“Why didn’t she tell you when she phoned you the lead on Heim?”

“I asked her, and she said she’d tell me later.”

“What’s her name?”

“I don’t know.”

“What number do you call her at?”

“I never call her. Birch was my contact. Now I wouldn’t know how to get her.”

“Phooey. We’ll come back to that if we have to stimulate you. Why did you kill Birch?”

“I didn’t kill him. I’m not a killer.”

“Who did?”

“I don’t know.”

I sat down. “As I told you, what I’m interested in is murder. With that cord we could squeeze your guts out, but that wouldn’t help us any; we just want facts, and facts we can check. If you didn’t kill Birch and don’t know who did, now tell me exactly how you’ve got it doped, and don’t—”

A buzzer sounded. I left the chair. It went two short, one long, and one short. I said sharply, “Muzzle ’em.” Saul pressed a palm over Egan’s mouth, and Fred went to Mort. I stepped to the wall, to the button I had seen Mort use, and pushed it. Probably the one short, two long, and one short, wasn’t the right answer this time, but it was as good as any ad lib. Then I left the room and, with my gun ready, stood three paces off from the foot of the stairs. I heard a voice up above, faintly, then silence, then footsteps, at first barely audible but getting louder. Then Orrie’s voice came down. “Archie?”

“Yeah. Present.”

“I’m bringing company.”

“Fine. The more the merrier.”

The steps reached the head of the stairs and started down. I saw well-shined black shoes, then well-pressed dark blue trouser legs, then a jacket to match, and to top it all the face of Dennis Horan. The face was very expensive. Behind him was Orrie with his gun visible.

“Hello there,” I said.

He wasn’t speaking, so I switched to Orrie. “How did he come?”

“In a car alone. He drove in, and I took it easy, not interested. He glanced at me but didn’t say anything and went to a button on a pillar and pushed it. When a buzzer sounded I thought it was time to take a hand, so I showed my gun and told him to walk. Whoever pushed that buzzer may be—”

“That’s all right, I did. Have you felt him?”

“No.”

I went to Horan and patted him in the likely spots and some unlikely ones. “Okay. Go back up and tend to customers.” Orrie went, and I sang out, “Saul! Take the muzzle off and tie his ankles and come here.”

Horan started for the door of the room. I grabbed his arm and whirled him. He tried to pull away, and I gave him a good twist. “Don’t think I’m not serious,” I told him. “I know what number to call for an ambulance.”

“Yes, it
is
serious,” he agreed. His thin tenor needed oil. “Serious enough to finish you, Goodwin.”

“Maybe, but right now I’m it, and it has gone to my head, so watch out.” Saul came out. “This is Mr. Saul Panzer. Saul, this is Dennis Horan. We’ll invite him to the conference later, but first I want to make a phone call. Take him over by the far wall. Don’t disfigure him unless he insists on it. He’s not armed.”

I crossed to the room, entered, and shut the door. Fred was seated at the table massaging a finger, and the other two were as before. I pulled the little stand back to its place, picked up the phone and put it on the stand, seated myself, and dialed. This time it
took more whirrs to get results, and then only a peevish mutter.

“Archie. I need advice.”

“I’m asleep.”

“Go splash your face with cold water.”

“Good heavens. What is it?”

“As I told you, all four of us are here in a garage. We have two subjects in a room in the basement. One of them is a biped named Mortimer Ervin, who has probably got nothing for us. The other one is called Lips Egan. On his driver’s license his first name is Lawrence. He’s the article that called on Saul at his hotel, and Saul and Orrie tailed him here. He’s a jewel. He had on him a notebook, now in my pocket, with about a thousand names and addresses of customers, and the last entry in it is Leopold Heim, so draw your own conclusions. We stimulated him some, and he claims that Matthew Birch was bossing the racket, but I haven’t bought that. I have bought that he saw Birch in that Cadillac, Tuesday afternoon, with a woman driving. I have not bought that he didn’t recognize her and couldn’t identify her. Nor that—”

“Proceed with him. Why disturb me in the middle of it?”

“Because we’ve been disturbed. Dennis Horan drove in upstairs and gave a code signal to the basement on a buzzer, and Orrie took him and brought him down. He’s out of earshot, but the other two are right here. I want your opinion on the kind and amount of stimulation to apply to a member of the bar. Of course he came to see Egan and he’s in on the racket, but I haven’t got it in writing.”

“Is Mr. Horan bruised?”

“We’ve hardly touched him.”

“Have you questioned him any?”

“No, I thought I’d call you.”

“This is very satisfactory. Hold the wire while I wake up.”

I did so. It was a full minute, maybe more, before his voice came again. “How are you arranged?”

“Fred and I are in the room in the basement with Ervin and Egan. Saul has Horan outside. Orrie’s upstairs to receive visitors.”

“Get Mr. Horan in and apologize to him.”

“Oh, have a heart.”

“I know, but he’s a lawyer, and we won’t give him cards to play. Has either Ervin or Egan shown a weapon?”

“Both. To Fred. They took his gun away, tied him in a chair, and were twisting his fingers around with pliers when I interrupted them.”

“Good. Then you have them on two counts, attempted extortion from Saul and assault with a firearm on Fred. Here are your instructions.”

He gave them to me. Some of it was too sketchy, and I asked him to elaborate. Finally I said I thought I had it. At the end he told me to hang on to Egan’s notebook, mention it to no one, and put it in the safe as soon as I got home. I hung up, went and opened the door, and called to Saul to bring Horan in.

Horan’s face was not so expressive. Apparently he had decided on a line, and it called for a deadpan. He took a chair like a lamb, showing no interest whatever in either Ervin or Egan beyond glances at the prostrate figures as he entered.

I addressed him. “If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Horan, I have to say something to these two men. You listening, Ervin?”

“No.”

“Suit yourself. You committed felonious assault on Fred Durkin with a loaded gun, and you committed battery on him with a pair of pliers. Are you listening, Egan?”

“I hear you.”

“You also committed assault—with the gun I shot out of your hand. In addition, you attempted extortion from Saul Panzer, another felony. My own inclination would be to phone the cops to come and get you two birds, but I work for Nero Wolfe, and it’s just possible he’ll feel differently about it. He wants to ask you some questions, and I’m taking you both down to his place. If you prefer going to the station, say so, but that’s your only alternative. If you try making a break you’ll be surprised, or maybe you won’t.”

I turned to the lawyer. “As for you, Mr. Horan, I tender our sincere apologies. We were under quite a strain, having this run-in with these two characters, and Orrie Cather was a little too eager, and so was I. I just talked to Mr. Wolfe on the phone, and he said to give you his regrets for the way his employees treated you. I guess I should apologize for another little thing too—when I introduced Saul Panzer to you out there I forgot he had called at your office today under the name of Leopold Heim. That must have been confusing. That’s all, unless you want to say something. Go on about your business, and I hope you won’t hold this against us—no, wait a minute, I just got an idea.”

I turned to Egan. “We want to be absolutely fair, Egan, and it just occurred to me that you might want a lawyer around while you’re down at Mr. Wolfe’s, and by coincidence this man is a lawyer. His name’s Dennis Horan. I don’t know whether he’d
care to represent you, but you can ask him if you want to.”

I thought and still think, that that was one of Wolfe’s neatest little notions, and I wouldn’t have missed the look on their faces for a week’s pay. Egan twisted his head around to see Horan, obviously to get a steer. But Horan himself needed a steer. The suggestion had caught him by surprise, and it had too many aspects. To say yes would be risky, since it would tie him to Egan, and he didn’t know how much Egan had spilled. To say no would be just as risky, doubly risky, because Egan might think he was being ditched, and also because Egan was being taken for a session with Nero Wolfe and there was no telling how he would stand up. It was too damned complicated and important to answer right off the bat, and it was a treat to watch Horan blinking his long eyelashes and trying to preserve his deadpan while he worked on it.

Egan broke the silence. “I’ve got some cash on me for a retainer, Mr. Horan. I understand it’s kind of a lawyer’s duty to defend people in trouble.”

“So it is, Mr. Egan.” The tenor was squeezing through. “I’m very busy right now.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty busy too.”

“No doubt. Yes. Of course.” Horan straightened his shoulders. “Very well. I’ll see what I can do for you. We’ll have to have a talk.”

I grinned at him. “Any talking you do,” I stated, “will have listeners. Let’s go, boys. Untie ’em. Fred, bring the pliers along for a souvenir.”