Before Midnight

I should have put them on his desk, since I knew he had had company for breakfast. I took them to him and then resumed at the typewriter. He glanced through the morning mail, which was mostly circulars and requests from worthy causes, then settled back with the news. That was okay, since there could have been an item that might affect the program for the day. He is not a fast reader, and I pounded along in high so as to be finished by the time he was ready. It was still before noon by ten minutes when I rolled the last page of Rollins from the machine, and after collating the originals and carbons I turned for a glance at him.

He had put the papers down and was deep in Beauty for Ashes.

No commonplace crack would fit the situation. It was serious and could be critical. I stapled the reports, labeled a folder "Lippert, Buff and Assa" and put them in it, went and put the folder in the cabinet, came back to my desk and put things away, turned to him and announced, "I'm all set. Hansen and Buff phoned to ask how we're coming, and I told them there was no use crowding. Philip Younger wants you to get him a conference with LBA, and I said maybe later. Lon Cohen wants the murderer's name with a picture by five o'clock. That's the crop. I'm ready for instructions."

He finished a paragraph--no, it was verse. He finished something, then his eyes came at me over the top of the book. "I haven't any," he stated.

"Oh. Tomorrow, maybe? Or some day next week?"

"I don't know. I gave it some thought last night, and I don't know."

I stared at him. "This is your finest hour," I said emphatically. "This is the rawest you have ever pulled. You took the case just twenty-four hours ago. Why didn't you turn it down? That you have the gall to sit there on your fanny and read poetry is bad enough, but that you tell me to do likewise…" I stood up. "I quit." "I haven't told you to read poetry." "You might as well. I'm quitting, and I'm going to the ball game."

He shook his head. "You can't quit in the middle of a case, and you can't go to the ball game because I couldn't get you if you were suddenly needed."

"Needed for what? Bring you beer?"

"No." He put the book down, drew a long deep sigh, and leaned back. "I suppose this has to be. You're enraged because I haven't devised a list of sallies and exploits for you. You have of course pondered the situation, as I have. I sympathize with your eagerness to do something. What would you suggest?"