The Golden Spiders (Crime Line)

Fritz had his hands full with eight breakfasts to prepare and serve, not counting his own, but Fred and I cooperated by putting a table in the front room and conveying food and equipment. We ate in the kitchen, and were disposing of our share of corn muffins and broiled ham and honey when Orrie marched in and commanded Fritz, “Forget these bums and attend to me. I have to go on a mission, and I’m hungry. Archie, go get me five hundred bucks. While you’re gone I’ll swipe your chair. Also give me the name of that outfit with a bunch of guys that make phone calls for so much per thousand.”

I kept my chair until my breakfast was down, including a second cup of coffee, so he had to perch on the stool. Then I filled his orders. It was useless to try to guess what he was going to do with the five hundred, but if any substantial part of it was for buying phone calls wholesale I might try doping that for practice. Since I had reported to Wolfe in full up in his room after depositing our guests downstairs, he knew everything I did, but no more. Who could be the likely candidates for a thousand phone calls? It couldn’t be the people listed in Egan’s customer book, for it was locked in the safe-I saw it there when I got the currency from the expense drawer-and Orrie hadn’t asked for it. I filed the question in my mind for further consideration during spare moments, if I had any. It wasn’t the first time Wolfe had sent one of the help on an errand without consulting me.

By eight o’clock Fritz had brought Wolfe’s tray back down, and Orrie had left, and Fred and I had brought the breakfast things from the front room and were in the kitchen helping with the dishes, when the doorbell rang. I tossed the dishtowel to a table and went to the hall, and when I saw Inspector Cramer and Sergeant Purley Stebbins on the stoop I didn’t have to keep them waiting while I sought instructions. I already had instructions, so, with a glance en route to make sure the door to the front room was closed, I went and opened up and welcomed them.

They stayed put. “We’re on our way somewhere,” Cramer rasped. “What do you want to tell me?”

“Nothing. Mr. Wolfe is the teller. Step in.”

“I can’t wait around for him.”

“You won’t have to. He’s been anxiously expecting you for six hours.”

They entered and headed for the office. As I entered behind them Cramer growled, “He’s not here.”