Rex Stout - The Golden Spiders

“No,” I objected. “Correction. Not held. I told you several times you could go whenever you wanted to.”

“ They were held, and I was held by the foolish commitment I had made. I admit it was foolish, and I regret it. Considering these latest developments, I have reluctantly concluded that Mrs. Fromm’s death may after all have had some connection with the affairs of the Association, or with one of its personnel, and in that case my duty is plain. I am now performing it, fully and frankly, and, I hope, helpfully.”

He got out a handkerchief and wiped his brow, his face, and his neck all around. “I have had no chance for a morning toilet,” he said apologetically. That was a damn lie. There was a well-equipped bathroom with doors both from the front room and the office, and he had been in it. If, not having then decided to be full and frank and helpful, he hadn’t wanted to have Egan out of his sight long enough to wash his face, that was his affair.

Cramer’s hard eye hadn’t softened any. “We’re always grateful for help, Mr. Horan,” he said, not gratefully. “Even when it’s a little late. Who heard your talk with Mrs. Fromm?”

“No one. As I said, she took me aside.”

“Did you tell anyone about it?”

“No. She told me not to.”

“Who did she suspect of being implicated?”

“I told you. Matthew Birch, and a man named Egan.”

“No. I mean who connected with the Association.”

“She didn’t say. My impression was that she suspected no one in particular.”

“From whom had she got her information?”

“I don’t know. She didn’t tell me.”

“That’s hard to believe.” Cramer was holding himself in. “She had a lot of details — Birch’s name, and Egan’s, and the name and address of the garage, and even the button on the pillar and the signal. She didn’t tell you where she got all that?”

“No.”

“Did you ask her?”

“Certainly. She said she couldn’t tell me because she had been told in confidence.”

Our four pairs of eyes were on him. He kept his, with their swollen red lids and long curled lashes, at Cramer. All of us, including him, understood the situation perfectly. We knew he was a damn liar, and he knew we knew it. He had been in a hole up to his neck, and this was his try at scrambling out. He had had to cook up some explanation for his going to the garage, and especially for the pushbutton and his signaling with it, and on the whole it wasn’t a bad job. Since Mrs. Fromm was dead he could quote her all he wanted to, and since Birch was dead too there was no risk in naming him. Egan had been his problem. He couldn’t ignore him, since he was right there in the next room. He couldn’t stick to him, since to act as attorney for a blackmailer whose racket was being exposed — and the exposure would hurt the Association, of which Horan was counsel — that was out of the question. So Egan had to be tossed to the wolves. That was it from where I sat; and, knowing the other three as well as I did, and seeing their faces as they looked at him, that was it from where they sat too.

Cramer turned to Wolfe with his brows raised in inquiry. Wolfe shook his head.

Cramer spoke. “Purley, bring Egan.”

Purley got up and went. Horan adjusted himself in his chair, getting solider, and sat straight. This was going to be tough, but he had asked for it. “You realize,” he told Cramer, “that this man is evidently a low criminal and he is in a desperate situation. He is scarcely a credible witness.”

“Yeah,” Cramer said and let it go at that. “Goodwin, how about a chair for him there near you, facing this way?”

I obliged. That would put Stebbins between Egan and Horan. Also it would give Wolfe Egan’s profile, but since he offered no objection I placed the chair as requested. As I was doing so Stebbins returned with Egan. “Over here,” I told him, and he steered Egan across. Sitting, the low criminal fastened his eyes on Dennis Horan, but they weren’t met. Horan was watching Cramer.

“You’re Lawrence Egan,” Cramer said. “Known as Lips Egan?”

“That’s me.” It came out hoarse, and Egan cleared his throat.

“I’m a police inspector. This is Nero Wolfe. I’ll soon have a report on you. Have you got a police record?”

Egan hesitated, then blurted, “The report will tell you, won’t it?”

“Yes, but I’m asking you.”

“Better go by the report. Maybe I’ve forgot.”

Cramer passed it. “That man next to you, Archie Goodwin, has told me what happened yesterday, from the time you called on a man at a hotel on First Avenue — you thought his name was Leopold Heim — until you were brought here. I’ll go over that with you later, but first I want to tell you where you stand. You may be thinking that you have an attorney present to protect your interests, but you haven’t. Mr. Horan says he has told you that he can’t represent you and doesn’t intend to. Did he tell you that?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t mumble. Speak up. Did he tell you that?”

“Yes!”

“When?”

“About half an hour ago.”

“Then you know you’re not represented here. You’re facing two charges, assault with a loaded gun and attempted extortion. On the first one there are two witnesses, Fred Durkin and Archie Goodwin, so that’s all set. On the second one you may be thinking there’s only one witness, Saul Panzer alias Leopold Heim, but you’re wrong. We now have corroboration. Mr. Horan says that he was told last Friday evening, by a reliable person in a position to know, that you were involved in a blackmailing operation, extorting money from people who had entered the country illegally. He says that his agreement to represent you was given on an impulse which he now regrets. He says he wouldn’t represent a low criminal like you. He—”

“That’s not what I said!” Horan squeaked. “I merely—”

“Shut up!” Cramer barked. “One more interruption and out you go. Did you say you were told that Egan was in a blackmail racket? Yes or no!”

“Yes.”

“Did you say you won’t represent him?”

“Yes.”

“Did you call him a low criminal?”

“Yes.”

“Then shut up if you like it here.” Cramer went to Egan. “I thought you had a right to know what Mr. Horan said, but we won’t need that to make the extortion stick. Leopold Heim wasn’t the first one, and don’t think we can’t find some of the others. That’s not worrying me any. I want to ask you something in Mr. Horan’s presence. Had you ever seen him before last night?”

Egan was chewing his tongue, or anyhow he was chewing something. Some saliva escaped at a corner of his mouth, and he wiped it away with the back of his hand. His jaws still working, he interlaced his fingers and locked them tight. He was having a hell of a time.

“Well?” Cramer demanded.

“I gotta think,” Egan croaked.

“Think straight. Don’t kid yourself. We’ve got you like that” — Cramer raised a fist — “on the assault and the extortion. It’s a simple question: Had you ever seen Mr. Horan before last night?”

“Yeah. I guess so. Look, how about a deal?”

“No. No deal. If the DA and the judge want to show some appreciation for cooperation, that’s up to them. They often do, you know that.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Then answer the question.”

Egan took a deep breath. “You’re damn right I saw him before last night. Lots of times. Dozens of times.” He leered at Horan. “Right, brother? You goddam lousy rat.”

“It’s a lie,” Horan said calmly, meeting the leer. He turned to Cramer. “You invited this, Inspector. You led him into it.”

“Then,” Cramer retorted, “I’ll lead him some more. What’s Mr. Horan’s first name?”