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the police and the District Attorney. I can tell you confidentially that I have a friend, it doesn’t matter who or where, who has given me a little information. I understand that they would be about ready to call it suicide and close the investigation if it weren’t for you, so your reason for thinking it was murder must be a pretty good one. That’s my question. What is it?”
    “Your friend didn’t tell you that?”
    “No. Either he wouldn’t, or he couldn’t because he doesn’t know. He says he doesn’t know.”
    I crossed my legs. “Well, I can’t very well say that. So I’ll say that I have told only the police and the D.A.’s office and Mr. Wolfe, and for the present that’s enough.”
    “You won’t tell me?”
    “At the moment, no. Rules of etiquette.”
    “Don’t you think the people who are involved just because they were there—don’t you think they have a right to know?”
    “Yes, I do. I think they have a right to demand that the police tell them exactly why they are going ahead with a homicide investigation when everything seems to point to suicide. But they have no right to demand that
I
tell them.”
    “I see.” He considered that. “But the police refuse to tell us.”
    “Yeah, I know. I’ve had experiences with them. I’ve just had one with Inspector Cramer.”
    He regarded me. Four seconds. “You’re in the detective business, Goodwin. People hire you to get information for them, and they pay for it. That’s all I want, information, an answer to my question. I’ll give you five thousand dollars for it. I have it in my pocket in cash. Of course, I would expect a definitive answer.”
    “You would deserve one, for five grand.” I was finding that meeting his eyes halfway, not letting them come on through me, took a little effort. “Five grand in cash would suit me fine, since the salary Mr. Wolfe pays me is far from extravagant. But I’ll have to say no even if you double it. This is how it is. When the police make up their minds about it one way or the other, that I’m right or I’m wrong, no matter which, I’ll feel free to tell you or anybody else. But if Igo spreading it around before then they will say I am interfering with an official investigation, and they will interfere with me. If I lost my license as a private detective your five grand wouldn’t last long.”
    “Ten would last longer.”
    “Not much.”
    “I own a publishing business. I’d give you a job.”
    “You’d soon fire me. I’m not a very good speller.”
    His eyes were certainly straight and steady. “Will you tell me this? How good is your reason for thinking it was murder? Is it good enough to keep them on it the whole way, in spite of the influence of a woman in Mrs. Robilotti’s position?”
    I nodded. “Yes, I’ll answer that. It was good enough to bring Inspector Cramer here when he hadn’t had much sleep. In my opinion it is good enough to keep them from crossing it off as suicide until they have dug as deep as they can go.”
    “I see.” He rubbed his palms together. Then he rubbed them on the chair arms. He had transferred his gaze to a spot on the rug, which was a relief. It was a full minute before he came back to me. “You say you have told only the police, the District Attorney, and Nero Wolfe. I want to have a talk with Wolfe.”
    I raised my brows. “I don’t know.”
    “You don’t know what?”
    “Whether …” I let it trail, screwing my lips. “He doesn’t like to mix in when I’m involved personally. Also he’s pretty busy. But I’ll see.” I arose. “With him you never can tell.” I moved.
    As I turned left in the hall Wolfe appeared at the corner of the wing. He stood there until I had passed and pushed the swing door, and then followed me into the kitchen. When the door had swung shut I spoke.
    “I must apologize for that crack about salary. I forgot you were listening.”
    He grunted. “Your memory is excellent and you shouldn’t disparage it.