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"Goodwin, so help me...." he growled.
"Now, Inspector, you know the drill." Archie pushed back the germination record he'd been working on, leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. "He's not due down from the plant rooms for an hour yet. I told you on the phone--"
"Yeah, I know what you told me, and I know what time it is." Cramer wasn't sure why he put himself through the torture. He did know Wolfe's routine, only all too well. "He wants to wait and put on a big show for your client. Nuts! If he's got the killer, then I want to know who it is now!"
"Nothing doing. Come back at six o'clock, and you'll find out."
Cramer could feel his face getting redder. "What, I should maybe go for a little stroll in Central Park while he plays in the dirt with his flowers?"
Archie smirked. "He'd love to hear you call it that. I think you'd actually hurt his feelings."
"His feelings? The egotistical genius has feelings? You could've fooled me. He sure doesn't act like anything matters to him except his food, his beer, and his orchids."
"Yeah."
Cramer had been about to continue his rant, but paused. That one word, how it was said.... His eyes narrowed as he studied Archie's face for a long moment. Goodwin's expression was bland as he met the scrutiny, but Cramer had inadvertently hit a sore spot, and he knew it.
So. That's the way the wind blows.
Abruptly, Cramer rose from the red leather chair and stood next to Archie's desk. Archie's head tilted back and a raised eyebrow dared the Inspector to comment.
"He'd better be sure about this party he's throwing. If this is just some fishing expedition, there'll be hell to pay, Goodwin." Cramer turned on his heel and started for the hallway. He knew that Archie would follow to watch as he left, but he didn't turn around as he grabbed his coat and hat and let himself out the front door. He descended the steps of the brownstone to the sidewalk, and got into the black-and-white parked nearby.
As the car pulled away from the curb, he pulled out a cigar from his pocket and stuck it in his mouth, but didn't light it.
Well, I'll be damned.
He'd never have figured it, not in a million years. He wondered if the egotistical genius playing with his flowers ever would.