The Golden Spiders (Crime Line)

“When what?” Wolfe demanded. Halfway to the door, he had turned. “You’ve got this wretch cornered, and you’re clawing away at him for something to implicate another wretch, that unspeakable Horan, in the most contemptible enterprise on record. I admit it’s necessary, indeed it is admirable, but I’ve contributed my share and you don’t need me; and I’m not after blackmailers, I’m after a murderer. You know my schedule; I’ll be available at eleven o’clock. I would appreciate it if you’ll remove these miserable creatures from my premises. You can deal with them just as effectively elsewhere.”

“You bet I can.” Cramer was out of his chair. “I’m taking your men along, all four of them-Goodwin, Panzer, Durkin, and Cather-and I don’t know when we’ll be through with them.”

“You may take the first three, but not Mr. Cather. He isn’t here.”

“I want him. Where is he?”

“You can’t have him. He’s on an errand. Haven’t I given you enough for one morning? Archie, do you remember where Orrie has gone?”

“No, sir. Couldn’t remember to save me.”

“Good. Don’t try.” He turned and marched out.

Chapter 15

I have never seen as much top brass in one day as I did during the next eight hours, from nine in the morning to five in the afternoon that Tuesday, one week from the day Pete Drossos had called to consult Wolfe about his case. At the Tenth Precinct station house it was Deputy Police Commissioner Neary. At 240 Centre Street it was the Commissioner himself, Skinner. At 155 Leonard Street it was District Attorney Bowen in person, flanked by three assistants, including Mandelbaum.

It didn’t go to my head because I knew it wasn’t just my fascinating personality. In the first place, the murder of Mrs. Damon Fromm, linked as it was with two other murders, was still, after four days, good for a thousand barrels of ink per day, not to mention the air waves. In the second place, the preliminary jockeying for a mayoralty election had started, and Bowen and Skinner and Neary were all cleaning fish ready for the fry. A really tiptop murder offers some fine possibilities to a guy who is so devoted to public service that he is willing to take on additional burdens in a wider field.