The Rubber Band

Cramer was saying, "Come on, Wolfe, forget it. You know what most Police Commissioners are like. They're not cops. They think all you have to do is flash a badge and strong men burst into tears. Be a sport and help me out once. I want to see this Fox woman. I'll take your word for Walsh and Lindquist and keep after them, but help me out on Clara Fox. If you've got her here, trot her out. If you haven't, tell me where to find her. If you've turned her loose too, which isn't a bad trick, show me her trail. She may be your client, but I'm not kidding when I say that the best thing you can do for her right now, and damn quick, is to let me see her. I don't care anything about any larceny-"

Wolfe interrupted. "She does. I do." He shook his head. "The larceny charge is of course in charge of the District Attorney's office; you haven't the power to affect it one way or another. I know that. As for the Marquis of Clivers, he is in no danger from Clara Fox that you need to protect him from. And as regards the murder of Harlan Scovil, she knows as little about that as I do. In fact, even less, since it is barely possible that I know who killed him."

Cramer looked at him. He puffed his cigar and kept on looking. At length he said, "Well. It's a case of murder. I'm in charge of the Homicide Squad. I'm listening."

"That's all. I volunteered that."

Cramer looked disgusted. "It can't be all. It's either too much or not enough. You've said enough to make you a material witness. You know what we can do with material witnesses if we want to."