The Golden Spiders (Crime Line)

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?”

“Dennis.”

“Where is his law office?”

“One-twenty-one East Forty-first Street.”

“Where does he live?”

“Three-fifteen Gramercy Park.”

“What kind of a car does he drive?”

“A fifty-one Chrysler sedan.”

“What color?”

“Black.”

“What’s his office phone number?”

“Ridgway three, four-one-four-one.”

“What’s his home number?”

“Palace eight, six-three-oh-seven.”

Cramer came to me. “Has this man had any chance to acquire all that information during the night?”

“He has not. No part of it.”

“Then that will do for now. Mr. Horan, you are being detained as a material witness in a murder case. Purley, take him to the other room-who’s in there?”

“Durkin and Panzer, with that Ervin.”

“Tell them to hold Horan, and come back.”

Horan stood up. He was calm and dignified. “I warn you, Inspector, this is a blunder you’ll regret.”

“We’ll see, Mr. Horan. Take him, Purley.”

The two left the room, Purley in the rear. Cramer got up and crossed to my wastebasket, dropped the remains of his cigar in it, and returned to the red leather chair. He started to say something to Wolfe, saw that he was leaning back with his eyes closed, and didn’t say it. Instead he asked me if he could be heard in the next room, and I told him no, it was soundproofed. Purley came back and went to his chair.

Cramer addressed Egan. “Okay, let’s have it. Is Horan in that racket?”

“I want a deal,” Egan said stubbornly.