In the Best Families

He had a corner suite at the setback, which gave him a terrace and also a soundbreak for the street noises. It was cool and quiet in his big sitting-room, with light blue summer rugs and pretty pictures and light blue slipcovers on the furniture. While he adjusted Venetian blinds I glanced around, and when he was through I told him, “Very nice. A good place for a heart-to-heart talk.

“What will you have to drink?

“Nothing, thanks. I had my share at the bar, and anyway I don't drink with people I'm tailing.

I was in a comfortable chair, and he pulled a smaller one around to face me.

“You've got your own office now, he stated.

I nodded. “Doing pretty well. Of course, summer's the slack season. After Labour

Day they'll start coming back and bringing their troubles along.

“You didn't take on that job for Mrs Frey.

“How could I? I upturned a palm. “No one would speak to me.

“You can't blame them. He got out a cigarette and lit it, and his hands were almost steady but not quite. “Look, Goodwin. There on the street I nearly lost my head for a second. You're merely doing what you're paid for.

“Right, I said approvingly. “People resent detectives more than they do doctors or plumbers. I don't see why. We're all trying to make it a better world.

“Certainly. Who are you working for?

“Me.

“Who pays you to work for you?

I shook my head. “Better start over. Show a gun or a steak knife or something.

Even if I'm not hard to persuade, I must keep up appearances.

He licked his lips. Apparently that was his substitute for counting ten, but if so it didn't work, for he sprang up, towering over me, making fists. I moved nothing but my head, jerking it back to focus on his face.

“It's a bad angle, I assured him. “If you swing from up there I'll duck and hit your knees, and you'll lose your balance.

He held it a second, then his fists became hands, and he stooped to use one of them to recover the cigarette he had dropped on the rug. He sat down, took a drag, inhaled, and let it out.

“You talk too much, Goodwin.

“No, I disagreed, “not too much, but too frankly maybe. Perhaps I shouldn't have mentioned a steak knife, but I was irritated. I might name my client if you stuck needles under my nails or showed me a dollar bill, but your being so damn' casual annoyed me.

“I didn't kill my wife.

I smiled at him. “That's a straightforward categorical statement, and I appreciate it very much. What else didn't you do?