If Death Ever Slept

I was stunned. It took me a full second to recover. Then I spoke, through my nose. “This is the city mortuary. We have a body here, a young man with classic Grecian features who jumped off Brooklyn Bridge. Papers in his wallet identify him as Archie Goodwin and his address-”

“Toss it back in the river,” Orrie said. “What good is it? It never was much good anyway.”

“Okay,” I said, not through my nose. “Now I know. May I please speak to Mr. Wolfe?”

“I’ll see. He’s reading a book. Hold it.”

I did so, and in a moment got a growl. “Yes?”

“I went for a walk and am in a booth. Reporting: the bed is good and the food is edible. I have met the family and they are not mine, except possibly the daughter, Lois. She shot a squirrel and wrote a poem about it. I’m glad you’ve got Orrie in to answer the phone and do the chores because that may simplify matters. You can stop my salary as of now. Jarrell has offered me sixty grand and expenses, me personally, to get the goods on his daughter-in-law and bounce her. I think his idea is that the goods are to be handmade, by me, but he didn’t say so in so many words. If it takes me twelve weeks that will be five grand a week, so my salary would be peanuts and you can forget it. I’ll get it in cash, no tax to pay, and then I’ll probably marry Lois. Oh yes, you’ll get your fee too.”

“How much of this is flummery?”

“None of the facts. The facts are straight. I am reporting.”

“Then he’s either a nincompoop or a scalawag or both.”

“Probably but not necessarily. He said he would give a million dollars to get rid of her and consider it a bargain. So it’s just possible he has merely got an itch he can’t reach and is temporarily nuts. I’m giving him the benefit of the doubt because he’s your client.”

“And yours.”