“Oh, he does.
Then I can discuss the Jerry Martin idea with him.
But you might tell me what you're doing out here at the McNair place.
They found you here, huh?”
“Found me?”
Gebert looked urbane but a little annoyed.
“Of course not.
They brought me.
At their request I came to show them where I thought McNair might have concealed the red box they are looking for.
But no; it wasn't there.
Then you arrived.
Then Mr. Goodwin arrived.
He thought it would be pleasanter if you did not know I had come to help them, and he suggested I should be Mr. Jerry Martin. I saw no reason not to oblige him.”
Rowcliff grunted.
“But you didn't see fit to mention this place to Inspector Cramer this morning when he asked if you had any idea where the red box might be. Did you?”
Gebert had a cute reply for that too, and for several more questions, but I didn't listen to them with much interest.
I was busy taking a trial balance.
I shied off because Gebert was being a little too slick.
Of course he figured that I would let his story slide because I wanted to save him for Nero Wolfe, but it began to look to me as if he wasn't worth the price.
It wasn't an attack of qualms; I would just as soon kick dust in the eyes of the entire Police Department from Commissioner Hombert up in anything that resembled a worthy cause; but it appeared more than doubtful whether Wolfe would be able to squeeze any profit out of Gebert anyhow, and if he couldn't, we would just be giving Cramer another reason to get good and sore without anything to console us for it.
I knew I was taking a big risk, for if Gebert had murdered McNair there was a fair chance that they would screw it out of him at headquarters, and there would be our case up the flue; but I wasn't like Wolfe, I was handicapped by not knowing whether Gebert was guilty.
While I was making these calculations I was listening with one ear to Gebert smearing it on Rowcliff, and he did a neat job of it; he had smoothed it down to a point where he and I could have got in a car and driven off without even being fingerprinted.
“See that.you're home in the morning,” Rowcliff was growling at him. “The inspector may want to see you.
If you go out leave word where.”
He turned to me, and you could have distilled vinegar from his breath.
“You're so full of lousy tricks I'll bet when you're alone you play 'em on yourself.
The inspector will let you know what he thinks of this one.
I'd hate to tell you what I think of it.”
I grinned at him, his face in the dark.
“And here I am all ready with another one.
I've been standing here listening to Gebert reel it off just to see how slick he is.
He could slide on a cheese grater.
You'd better take him to headquarters and give him a bed.”
“Jeah?
What for?
You through with him?”
“Naw, I haven't even started.
A little before nine o'clock this evening he got here in his car.
Not knowing there was anyone here because the lights were out, he tried to pry open a window to get in.
When Saul Panzer asked him what he wanted, he said he left his umbrella here last fall and drove out to get it.
Maybe it's in your lost and found room at headquarters; you'd better take him there to look and see.
Material witness would do it.”
Rowcliff grunted.
“You were ready with another one all right.
When did you think this up?”
“I didn't have to.
Fact is stranger than fiction.
You shouldn't be always suspecting everybody.
If you want me to I'll call them out and you can ask them; they were all three here.
I would say that an umbrella that's worth going in a window after is worth asking questions about.”