If Death Ever Slept

He grunted. “There is no obligation to report what may be merely a coincidence. If Mr. Jarrell’s gun is found and it is established that Eber was killed by a bullet from it, that will be different.”

“Meanwhile we ignore the coincidence?”

“We don’t proclaim it.”

“Then I assume we keep the ten grand and Jarrell is still your client. If he turns out to be a murderer, what the hell, many lawyers’ clients are murderers. And I’m back where I started, I need instructions. I’ll have to go-”

The phone rang. I swiveled and got it, and I noticed that Wolfe reached for his too, which he rarely does unless I give him a sign.

“Nero Wolfe’s residence, Archie Goodwin speaking.”

“Where the hell are you? This is Jarrell.”

“You know what number you dialed, Mr. Jarrell. I’m with Mr. Wolfe, reporting and getting instructions about your job.”

“I’ve got instructions for you myself. Nora says you left at five-thirty. You’ve been gone over four hours. How soon can you be here?”

“Oh, say in an hour.”

“I’ll be in the library.”

He hung up. I cradled it and turned.

“He reminds me of you a little,” I said-just an interesting fact, nothing personal. “I was about to say, I’ll have to go back up there and I need to know what for. Just hang around or try to start something? For instance, it would be a cinch to put the bee on Jarrell. You couldn’t ask for a better setup for blackmail. I tell him that if he makes a sizable contribution in cash, say half a million, we’ll regard the stolen gun as a coincidence and forget it. If he doesn’t we’ll feel that we must report it. Of course I’ll have to wait until the news is out about Eber, but if-”

“Shut up.”

“Yes, sir.”

He eyed me. “You understand the situation. You have expounded it.”

“Yes, sir.”