The Silent Speaker (9 page)

IT TOOK MORE THAN an hour altogether to run off the ten cylinders, not counting time out for lunch.

I started the first one at the speed recommended by our instructor, but it had been going only a few seconds when Wolfe told me to slow it down. Having heard Cheney Boone on the radio I had expected him to sound about the same, but although there was enough similarity to recognize his voice, this seemed to be pitched higher and the words were more distinct. The first one began:

'Six-seventy-nine. Personal. Dear Mr. Pritchard. Thank you very much for your letter but I have decided not to get a Chesapeake retriever but to try an Irish setter. I have nothing against Chesapeakes and there is no good reason for my decision except the unpredictable vagary of the human mind. Sincerely. Six-eighty. Dear. Mrs. Ambruster. I do indeed remember that pleasant day and evening in St. Louis last fall and I deeply regret my inability to be present at the spring meeting of your fine organization. The next time I get to St. Louis I shall certainly get in touch with you. The material you request will be sent you without delay, and if it fails to arrive promptly be sure to let me know. With best regards and best wishes for the success of your meeting. Sincerely. Six-eighty-one. Memo-no, make it a letter to all regional directors. By name to each. Please return to this office immediately the advance copies of the press release for March 25th regarding household appliances. That release has been canceled and will not be sent out. Paragraph. The premature disclosure of some of the contents of that release by a press association has again raised the question whether advance copies of releases should be sent to regional offices. You are requested to investigate without delay, in your office, the handling of the advance copies of the release in question, and make a full report of the results directly to me. I shall expect this report to reach me not later than March 28th. Sincerely. Six-eighty-two. Dear Mr. Maspero. Thank you very much for your letter of the 16th, and I assure you that its contents will be regarded as confidential. That of course would be impossible if your information were susceptible of use in a legal action that could be undertaken by me in the performance of my duty, but I am fully aware of the difficulties involved in any attempt& '

That one went on long enough to fill at least two full pages single-spaced, leaving room on that cylinder only for two more letters and an interoffice memo. When it reached the end I removed it and returned it to its place in the row, and picked up number two, remarking meanwhile:

'I suppose you noticed that Boone apparently sent his letters by rocket and the regional directors were expected to be streaks of lightning.'

Wolfe nodded gloomily. 'We've been sniggled.' He leaned forward to look at his desk calendar. 'He couldn't possibly have dictated that the afternoon of the day he was killed, March 26th. He told the regional directors to investigate and get a report to him by March 28th. Since it was to go to all regional directors, the West Coast was included. Even granting the speed of air mail, and allowing only one day for their investigations, which seems meager, that must have been dictated not later than March 23rd, and probably several days earlier.'

He sighed deep. 'Confound it. I was hoping-' He compressed his lips and frowned at the leather case. 'That woman said four, didn't she?'

'Do you mean Miss Gunther?'

'Who the devil do you think I mean?'

'I think you mean Miss Phoebe Gunther. If so, yes. She said there were twelve of those cases, and the one Boone gave her in the murder room had the number four stamped on top, and he told her it contained cylinders he had dictated in his Washington office that afternoon. So it looks as if someone has been playing button button. Are we too discouraged to go on or would we care to hear number two?'

'Go ahead.'

I proceeded with the concert. Lunch intervened at the end of the sixth movement, and after a leisurely but not especially gay meal we returned to the office and finished them up. There was nothing spectacular anywhere in the lot, though some of them contained matter that was certainly confidential; and considered as clues that might help solve a murder, I wouldn't have paid a dime for them. In four others besides number one there was evidence, some of it conclusive, that they had been dictated earlier than March 26th.

I couldn't blame Wolfe for being depressed. In addition to all the other complications, there were at least eight possible explanations of how leather case number four happened, when found, to contain cylinders dictated prior to the day of the murder, the simplest of all being that Boone himself had picked up the wrong case when he left his Washington office that afternoon. Not to mention the basic question, for which I didn't have even a guess, let alone an answer: were the cylinders only a side show or were they part of the main performance'

Leaning back in his chair digesting, Wolfe was, to an unaccustomed eye though not to mine, sound asleep. He didn't stir as I wheeled the machine out of the way, over to a corner. Then, as I went to his desk and started to return the cylinders to their nests in the case, his lids opened to make a slit.

He shook his head. 'You'd better run them off again and make a transcription of them. Three carbons.' He glanced at the wall clock. 'I'll be going upstairs in thirty-five minutes. Do it then.'

'Yes, sir.' I was grim. 'I expected this.'

'You did'I didn't.'

'I don't mean I expected the cylinders to be antiques. I expected this typewriting job. That's the level this case seems to have descended to.'

'Don't badger me. I was an ass to undertake it. I have more Cattleyas than I have room for, and I could have sold five hundred of them for twelve thousand dollars.' He let his eyes come half open. 'When you have finished transcribing these things, take them down to Mr. Cramer and tell him how we got them.'

'Tell him everything?'

'Yes. But before you go to him do another typing job. Your notebook. Send this letter to everyone who was here Friday evening.' He frowned for words, and in a moment dictated, ''Since you were good enough to come to my office at my invitation Friday evening, and since you were present when it was intimated that Miss Gunther's statement that she had left the leather case on the window sill of the reception room might not deserve credence, I am writing to inform you of a development that occurred today. Paragraph. Mr. Don O'Neill received in the mail a ticket for a parcel that had been checked at Grand Central Station. The parcel proved to be the leather case in question, with the figure four stamped on the lid as described by Miss Gunther. However, most of the cylinders it contained were obviously dictated by Mr. Boone prior to March 26th. I send you this information in justice to Miss Gunther.''

'That's all?' I inquired.

'Yes.'

'Cramer will throw a fit.'

'No doubt. Mail them before you go to him, and take him a carbon. Then bring Miss Gunther here.'

'Her'Phoebe Gunther?'

'Yes.'

'That's dangerous. Isn't it too risky to trust me with her?'

'Yes. But I want to see her.'

'Okay, it's on you.'

TWO HOURS AND MORE of back-breaking drudgery. Ten whole cylinders. Three carbons. Not only that, it was new to me and I had to adjust the speed about twenty times before I got the knack of it. When I finally got it finished and the sheets collated, I gave the original to Wolfe, who was back in the office by that time, placed the first two carbons in the safe, and folded the third carbon and stuck it in my pocket. Then there were the dozen letters to be typed and envelopes for same. As Wolfe signed them he folded and inserted them, and even sealed the envelopes. Sometimes he has bursts of feverish energy that are uncontrollable. By that time it was the dinner hour, but I decided not to dawdle through a meal in the dining room with Wolfe and made a quickie of it in the kitchen.

I had phoned the Homicide Squad office to make sure that Cramer would be on hand, to avoid having to deal with Lieutenant Rowcliffe, whose murder I hoped to help investigate some day, and had also called Phoebe Gunther's apartment to make a date but got no answer. Getting the car from the garage, I went first to Eighth Avenue to drop the letters in the post office and then headed south for Twentieth Street.

After I had been in with Cramer ten minutes he said, 'This sounds like something. I'll be damned.'

After another twenty minutes he said, 'This sounds like something. I'll be damned.'

That, of course, showed clear as day where he stood-up to his hips in a swamp. If he had been anywhere near dry ground, or even in sight of some, he would have waved his prerogative in front of my nose and cussed Wolfe and me up one side and down the other for withholding evidence for nine hours and fourteen minutes and so forth, including threats, growls, and warnings. Instead of which, at one point it looked as if he might abandon all restraint and thank me. Obviously he was desperate.

When I left Cramer I still had the carbon of the transcription in my pocket, because it was not intended for him. If I was to take Phoebe Gunther to Wolfe it was desirable that I get her before Cramer did, and it seemed likely that he would want to know exactly what was on those cylinders before he started a roundup. So I had kept it sketchy and hadn't told him that a transcription had been made.

Also I wasted no time getting to Fifty-fifth Street.

The doorman phoned up, gave me another look of surprise when he turned to tell me I would be received, and called an okay to the elevator. Up at Nine H, Phoebe opened the door and allowed me to enter. I put my coat and hat on a chair and followed her into the room, and there was Alger Kates over in the corner where the light was dim.

I will not deny that I am often forthright, but I would put up an argument if anyone called me crude. Yet, at sight of Kates there again, I said what I said. I suppose it could be interpreted different ways. I do not concede that Phoebe Gunther had me fidgeting on a string, but the fact remains that I stared at Alger Kates and demanded:

'Do you live here?'

He stared back and replied, 'If it's any of your business, yes, I do.'

'Sit down, Mr. Goodwin.' Phoebe possibly smiled. She got against the cushions on the couch. 'I'll straighten it out. Mr. Kates does live here, when he's in New York. His wife keeps this apartment because she can't stand Washington. Right now she's in Florida. I couldn't get a hotel room, so Mr. Kates is staying with friends on Eleventh Street and letting me sleep here. Does that clear me'And him?'

Naturally I felt foolish. 'I'll take it up,' I said, 'with the Housing Administration and see what I can do. Meanwhile I may be in a hurry, depending on how urgent Inspector Cramer feels. When I phoned you about an hour ago there was no answer.'

She reached for a cigarette. 'Why, do I need clearance on that too'I was out for a bite to eat.'

'Has Cramer's office called since you returned?'

'No.' She was frowning. 'Does he want me'What for?'

'He either wants you now or he soon will.' It was in the line of duty to keep my eyes fastened to her, to get her reaction. 'I just took him that case of cylinders that you left on a window sill Tuesday evening.'

I do not believe there was any menace in my tone. I don't know where it would have come from, as I did not at that time regard myself as a menace to Miss Gunther. But Alger Kates suddenly stood up, as if I had brandished a monkey wrench at her. He immediately sat down again. She kept her seat, but stopped her cigarette abruptly on its way to her lips, and the muscles of her neck stiffened.

'That case'With the cylinders in it?'

'Yes, ma'am.'

'Did you-what's on them?'

'Well, that's a long story-'

'Where did you find it?'

'That's another long story. We've got to step on it, because Cramer has it now, and he may send for you any minute, or come to see you, or he may wait until he has listened to the cylinders. Anyhow, Mr. Wolfe wants to see you first, and since it was me-'

'Then you don't know what's on them?'

Kates had left his dim corner and moved across to the end of the couch, and was standing there in an attitude of readiness to repel the enemy. I ignored him and told her:

'Sure, I know. So does Mr. Wolfe. We got a machine and ran them off. They're interesting but not helpful. Their outstanding feature is that they weren't dictated on Tuesday, but before that-some of them a week or more. I'll tell-'

'But that's impossible!'

'Nope. Possible and true. I'll-'

'How do you know?'

'Dates and things. Absolutely.' I stood up. 'I'm getting restless. As I say, Mr. Wolfe wants to see you first. With Cramer there's no telling, especially when he's hanging on by his fingernails, so let's go. Kates can come along to protect you if you want him. I've got a transcription of the cylinders in my pocket and you can look at it on the way, and I'll tell-'

A bell rang. Having, though from the outside, heard it ring twice previously, I knew what it was.

I thought goddam it. I asked her in a whisper, 'You expecting anybody?'

She shook her head, and the look in her eyes, straight at mine, said plainly that I could name the tune. But of course it was hopeless. Whoever had got by the doorman had also got information. Even so, there's nothing like trying, so I put a finger to my lips and stood there looking at them-at least I gave Kates a glance. His expression said belligerently, I'm not doing this for you, mister. We had held the tableau maybe ten seconds when a voice I knew well, the voice of Sergeant Purley Stebbins, came loud and irritated through the door.

'Come on, Goodwin, what the hell!'

I marched across and opened up. He came in past me rudely, took off his hat, and began to try to pretend he was a gentleman.

'Good afternoon, Miss Gunther. Good afternoon, Mr. Kates.' He looked at her. 'Inspector Cramer would be much obliged if you'd let me drive you down to his office. He's got some things there he wants you to look at. He told me to tell you they're Stenophone cylinders.'

I was at his side. 'You come right to the point, don't you, Purley, huh?'

'Oh,' he said, pivoting his big fine empty head, 'you still here'I supposed you was gone. The Inspector will be glad to know I ran into you.'

'Nuts.' I dropped him. 'Of course you know, Miss Gunther, that you may do as you please. Some people think that when a city employee comes to take them somewhere they have to go. That's a fallacy, unless he has a document, which he hasn't.'

'Is that true?' She asked me.

'Yes. That's true.'

She had stood up when Purley entered. Now she moved across right to me, facing me, and stood looking up to meet my eyes. It wasn't much of a slant, because her eyes were only about five inches below mine, and therefore it wasn't a strain for either of us.

'You know,' she said, 'you have a way of suggesting things that appeal to me. With all I know about cops and their attitude toward people with power and position and money, and with the little I know about you, even if your boss has been hired by the NIA, I almost think I would let you hold my purse if I had to fix my garter. So you decide for me. I'll go with you to see Mr. Wolfe, or I'll go with this oversize sergeant, whichever you say.'

Whereupon I made a mistake. It isn't so much that I regret it because it was a mistake, since I believe in having my share of everything on my way through life, including mistakes. The trouble was, as I now admit, that I did it not for my sake, or for Wolfe's, or for the good of the job, but for her. I would have loved to escort her down to my car with Purley traipsing along behind growling. Wolfe liked nothing better than to rile Cramer. But I knew if I took her to Wolfe's house Purley would camp outside, and after Wolfe finished with her she would either go on downtown for a night of it, or she would refuse to go, and she would certainly never hear the last of that. So I made the mistake because I thought Miss Gunther should have some sleep. Since she had told me herself that the tireder she got the better she looked, and there I was looking at her, it was evident that she was about all in.

So I said, 'I deeply appreciate your confidence, which I deserve. You hold onto the purse while I fix the garter. For the present, I hate to say it, but it would be better to accept Cramer's invitation. I'll be seeing you.'

Twenty minutes later I walked into the office and told Wolfe:

'Purley Stebbins arrived at Miss Gunther's before I could get her away, and she likes him better than she does me. She is now down at Twentieth Street.'

So not only had I made a mistake, but also I was lying to the boss.