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Authors: Dashiell Hammett
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a friend of Morelli’s?”
“He just knew her by sight through seeing her around with Morelli and recognized her picture when he saw it in the paper.”
“Who is he?”
“He’s all right. We know all about him.”
“You wouldn’t hold out on me, would you,” I asked, “after getting me to promise not to hold out on you?”
Guild said: “Well, if it don’t go any further, he’s a fellow that does some work for the department now and then.”
“Oh.”
He stood up. “I hate to say it, but that’s just about as far as we’ve got. You got anything you can help with?”
“No.”
He looked at me steadily for a moment. “What do you think of it?”
“That diamond ring, was it an engagement ring?”
“She had it on that finger.” After a pause he asked, “Why?”
“It might help to know who bought it for her. I’m going to see Macaulay this afternoon. If anything turns up I’ll give you a ring. It looks like Wynant, all right, but—”
He growled good-naturedly, “Uh-huh, but,” shook hands with Nora and me, thanked us for our whisky, our lunch, our hospitality, and our kindness in general, and went away.
I told Nora: “I’m not one to suggest that your charm wouldn’t make any man turn himself inside out for you, but don’t be too sure that guy isn’t kidding us.”
“So it’s come to that,” she said. “You’re jealous of policemen.”
12
Macaulay’s letter from Clyde Wynant was quite a document. It was very badly typewritten on plain white paper and dated Philadelphia, Pa., December 26, 1932. It read:
Dear Herbert: I am telegraphing Nick Charles who worked for me you will remember some years ago and who is in New York to get in touch with you about the terrible death of poor Julia. I want you to do everything in your power to
[a line had been x’d and m’d out here so that it was impossible to make anything at all of it]
persuade him to find her murderer. I don’t care what it costs—pay him!
Here are some facts I want to give him outside of all you know about it yourself I don’t think he should tell these facts to the police, but he will know what is best and I want him to have a completely free hand as I have got the utmost confidence in him. Perhaps you had better just show him this letter, after which I must ask you to carefully destroy it.
Here are the facts. When I met Julia Thursday night to get that $1,000 from her she told me she wanted to quit her job. She said she hadn’t been at all well for some time and her doctor had told her she ought to go away and rest and now that her uncle’s estate bad been settled she could afford to and wanted to do it. She had never said anything about bad health before and I thought shewas hiding her real reason and tried to get it out of her, but she stuck to what she had said. I didn’t know anything about her uncle dying either. She said it was her Uncle John in Chicago. I suppose that could be looked up if it’s important. I couldn’t persuade her to change her mind, so she was to leave the last day of the month. She seemed worried or frightened, but she said she wasn’t. I was sorry at first that she was going, but then I wasn’t, because I had always been able to trust her and now I wouldn’t be if she was lying, as I thought she was.
The next fact I want Charles to know is that whatever anybody may think or whatever was true some time ago Julia and I
[“are now” was x’d out lightly]
were at the time of her murder
and had been for more than a year
not anything more to each other than employee and employer. This relationship was the result of mutual agreement.
Next, I believe some attempt should be made to learn the present whereabouts of the Victor Rosewater with whom we had trouble some years ago inasmuch as the experiments I am now engaged in are in line with those he claimed I cheated him out of and I consider him quite insane enough to have killed Julia in a rage at her refusal to tell him where I
“He just knew her by sight through seeing her around with Morelli and recognized her picture when he saw it in the paper.”
“Who is he?”
“He’s all right. We know all about him.”
“You wouldn’t hold out on me, would you,” I asked, “after getting me to promise not to hold out on you?”
Guild said: “Well, if it don’t go any further, he’s a fellow that does some work for the department now and then.”
“Oh.”
He stood up. “I hate to say it, but that’s just about as far as we’ve got. You got anything you can help with?”
“No.”
He looked at me steadily for a moment. “What do you think of it?”
“That diamond ring, was it an engagement ring?”
“She had it on that finger.” After a pause he asked, “Why?”
“It might help to know who bought it for her. I’m going to see Macaulay this afternoon. If anything turns up I’ll give you a ring. It looks like Wynant, all right, but—”
He growled good-naturedly, “Uh-huh, but,” shook hands with Nora and me, thanked us for our whisky, our lunch, our hospitality, and our kindness in general, and went away.
I told Nora: “I’m not one to suggest that your charm wouldn’t make any man turn himself inside out for you, but don’t be too sure that guy isn’t kidding us.”
“So it’s come to that,” she said. “You’re jealous of policemen.”
12
Macaulay’s letter from Clyde Wynant was quite a document. It was very badly typewritten on plain white paper and dated Philadelphia, Pa., December 26, 1932. It read:
Dear Herbert: I am telegraphing Nick Charles who worked for me you will remember some years ago and who is in New York to get in touch with you about the terrible death of poor Julia. I want you to do everything in your power to
[a line had been x’d and m’d out here so that it was impossible to make anything at all of it]
persuade him to find her murderer. I don’t care what it costs—pay him!
Here are some facts I want to give him outside of all you know about it yourself I don’t think he should tell these facts to the police, but he will know what is best and I want him to have a completely free hand as I have got the utmost confidence in him. Perhaps you had better just show him this letter, after which I must ask you to carefully destroy it.
Here are the facts. When I met Julia Thursday night to get that $1,000 from her she told me she wanted to quit her job. She said she hadn’t been at all well for some time and her doctor had told her she ought to go away and rest and now that her uncle’s estate bad been settled she could afford to and wanted to do it. She had never said anything about bad health before and I thought shewas hiding her real reason and tried to get it out of her, but she stuck to what she had said. I didn’t know anything about her uncle dying either. She said it was her Uncle John in Chicago. I suppose that could be looked up if it’s important. I couldn’t persuade her to change her mind, so she was to leave the last day of the month. She seemed worried or frightened, but she said she wasn’t. I was sorry at first that she was going, but then I wasn’t, because I had always been able to trust her and now I wouldn’t be if she was lying, as I thought she was.
The next fact I want Charles to know is that whatever anybody may think or whatever was true some time ago Julia and I
[“are now” was x’d out lightly]
were at the time of her murder
and had been for more than a year
not anything more to each other than employee and employer. This relationship was the result of mutual agreement.
Next, I believe some attempt should be made to learn the present whereabouts of the Victor Rosewater with whom we had trouble some years ago inasmuch as the experiments I am now engaged in are in line with those he claimed I cheated him out of and I consider him quite insane enough to have killed Julia in a rage at her refusal to tell him where I
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