Margery Allingham - Ellery Queen’s Anthology. 1960

“I don’t believe it,” Wolfe said rudely. He turned to me: “Archie, I think you’re responsible for this. I think it was something you did or said What was it?”

“Sure; it’s always me,” I was hurt. “What I did, I got a shave, and Ed had a customer and I had to wait, so I talked with Purley and with Inspector Cramer and then with Janet — Miss Stahl to you — and with Ed while I was in the chair — that is, he talked—”

“What did you say to Mr. Cramer?”

“Practically nothing. Just answered a civil question.”

“What did you say to Mr. Stebbins?”

I thought I knew now where he was headed, and hoped I was right. “Oh, just asked what was going on, and he told me. I’ve told you about it.”

“Not verbatim. What did you say?”

“Nothing at all. Of course, Purley wanted to know what brought me there, and I told him I— Say, wait a minute! Maybe you’re right, at that! He asked me if I had seen Carl or Tina this morning, and I said sure, I had put them here in the front room and told them to wait, and if he would step on—”

“Ha!” Wolfe snorted. “I knew it! Your confounded tongue. So that’s it.” He looked at Cramer. “Why have you waited to pounce?” he asked, trying not to sound too contemptuous, for, after all, Cramer was drinking his beer. “Since Archie has rashly disclosed our little secret, it would be useless for me to try to keep it. That’s what we use the front room for mainly — to keep murderers in. You’re armed, I suppose? Go in and get them Archie, open the door for him.”

I went to the door to the front room and pulled it open, not too wide.

“I’m scared of murderers, myself,” I said courteously, “or I’d be glad to help.”

Cramer had a glass half-full of beer in his hand, and it may well be that that took the trick. Bullheaded as he was, he might have been capable of getting up and walking over for a look into the room, even though our build-up had convinced him it was empty. But the glass of beer complicated it. He would either have to take it with him or reach first to put it down on the little table — or throw it at Wolfe.

“Nuts,” he said, and lifted the glass to drink.

I swung the door to, carelessly, without bothering to see that it latched, and yawned on the way back to my chair.

“At least,” Wolfe said, rubbing it in, “I can’t be jailed for harboring a fugitive — one of your favorite threats. But I really don’t know what you’re after. If it was those two, you’ll get them, of course. What else is there?”

“Nothing but a little more evidence.” Cramer glanced at his wrist-watch. “We’ll get ’em, all right. It don’t pay to kill a cop in this town.” He stood up. “It wouldn’t pay for anyone to hide a cop killer in their front room, either. Thanks for the beer. I’ll be expecting those affidavits, and in case—”

The phone rang. I swiveled and got it. “Nero Wolfe’s office, Archie Goodwin speaking.”

“Inspector Cramer there?”

I said, yes, hold it. “For you,” I told him, and moved aside. He spoke not more than twenty words altogether, between spells of listening. He dropped the phone onto the cradle and headed for the door.

“Have they found ’em?” I asked his back.

“No.” He didn’t turn. “Someone’s hurt — the Stahl girl.”

I marched after him, thinking the least I could do was cooperate by opening another door for him, but he was there and on out before I caught up, so I about-faced and returned to the office.

Wolfe was standing up, and I wondered why all the exertion, but a glance at the wallclock showed me 3:55, nearly time for his afternoon visit to the plant rooms.

“He said Janet got hurt,” I stated.

Wolfe, finishing his beer, grunted.

“I owe Janet something. Besides, it could mean that Carl and Tina are out of it. I can be there in ten minutes. Why not?”

“No.” He looked at the clock, and moved. “Put those folders back, please.” Halfway to the door, he turned. “Disturb me only if it is unavoidable. And admit no more displaced persons to the house. Two at a time is enough.”

I put the folders away and then went to the front room. Tina, who was lying on the couch, sat up as I entered and saw to her skirt hem. She had nice legs, but my mind was occupied. Carl, on a chair near the foot of the couch, stood up and asked a string of questions with his eyes.

“As you were,” I told them gruffly. I heartily agreed with Wolfe that two was enough. “I hope you didn’t go near the windows.”

“We have learned so long ago to stay away from windows,” Carl said. “But we want to go. We will pay the fifty dollars gladly.”

“You can’t go.” I was emphatic. “That was Inspector Cramer, a very important policeman. We told him you were in here, and so—”

“You told him—” Tina gasped.

“Yes. It’s the Hitler-Stalin technique in reverse. They tell barefaced lies to have them taken for the truth, and we told the barefaced truth to have it taken for a lie. It worked. So now we’re stuck, and you are, too. You stay here. We’ve told the cops you’re in this room, and you’re not going to leave it, at least not until bedtime. I’m locking you in.” I pointed to a door. “That’s a bathroom, and there’s a glass if you want a drink. It has another door into the office, but I’ll lock it. The windows have bars.”

I crossed to the door to the hall and locked it with my master key. I went through to the office, entered the bathroom in the corner, turned the bolt flange on the door to the front room, opened the door an inch, returned to the office, locked that door with my key, and went back to the front room.

“All set,” I told them. “Make yourselves comfortable. If you need anything don’t yell, this room is soundproofed; push this button.” I put my finger on it, under the edge of the table. “I’ll give you the news as soon as there is any.” I was going.

“But this is hanging in the air on a thread,” Carl protested.

“You’re right, it is,” I agreed grimly. “Your only hope is that Mr. Wolfe has now put his foot in it and it’s up to him to get both you and him loose, not to mention me. By the way, there is a small gleam. Inspector Cramer beat it back to the shop because he got a phone call that Janet had been hurt. If she got hurt with scissors with you not there, it may be a real break.”

“Janet?” Tina was distressed. “Was she hurt much?”

“I don’t know,” I said, “and I’m not going to try to find out. We’ll have to sit it out, at least until six o’clock.” I glanced at my wrist. “That’s only an hour and twenty minutes. Then we’ll see if Mr. Wolfe has cooked up a charade. If not, he may at least invite you to dinner. See you later.”

I went to the door to the office, passed through, closed the door, and locked it. There in privacy I took a survey of the Vardas situation. Being smart enough to get it in that neither Carl nor Tina could drive a car was all right as far as it went, but it proved nothing at all about the scissors in Jake Wallen’s back; it merely showed that there are motives and motives. The cops thought Wallen had been killed by a cornered hit-and-run driver, but what did I think? And, even more important, what did Wolfe think? I was still trying to find the answers when the phone rang.

It was Sergeant Purley Stebbins: “Archie?... Purley. I’m at the barbershop. We want you here quick.”

I responded courteously: “I’m busy, but I guess so. If you really want me. Do you care to specify?”

“When you get here. Grab a cab.”

I buzzed Wolfe on the house phone and reported the development. Then I hopped...

The crowd of spectators ganged up in the corridor outside the Goldenrod Barbershop was twice as big as it had been before, and inside the shop there was a fine assortment of cops and dicks to look at. The corridor sported not one flatfoot, but three, keeping people away from the entrance. I told one of them my name and errand and was ordered to wait, and in a minute Purley came and escorted me in.