Mrs Rackham spoke to Wolfe. “You couldn't very well go around finding out things. Could you?
“I don't know, he said politely. “I haven't tried for years, and I don't intend to. Others go around for me. He gestured at me. “Mr Goodwin, of course, and others as required. You need someone to go around?
“Yes. She paused. Her mouth worked. “I think I do. Provided it can be done safely-I mean, without anyone knowing about it. Her mouth worked some more. “I am bitterly ashamed-having at my age, for the first time in my life-having to go to a private detective with my personal affairs.
“Then you shouldn't have come, Leeds said mildly.
“Then you have come too soon, Wolfe told her.
“Too soon? Why?
“You should have waited until it became so urgent or so intolerable that it would cause you no shame to ask for help, especially from one as expensive as me. He shook his head. “Too soon. Come back if and when you must.
“Hear that, Sarah? Leeds asked, but not rubbing it in.
Ignoring him, she leaned forward and blurted at Wolfe, “No, I'm here now. I have to know! I have to know about my husband!
Wolfe's head jerked around to me, to give me a look intended to scorch. But I met his eyes and told him emphatically, “No, sir. If it is, she fibbed. I told her we wouldn't touch divorce or separation evidence, and she said it wasn't.
He left me and demanded, “Do you want your husband followed?
“I-I don't know. I don't think so-
“Do you suspect him of infidelity?
“No! I don't!
Wolfe grunted, leaned back in his chair, squirmed to get comfortable, and muttered, “Tell me about it.
Mrs Rackham's jaw started to quiver. She looked at Leeds. His brows went up, and he shook his head, not as a negative apparently, but merely leaving it to her.
Wolfe let out a grunt. She moved her eyes to him and said plaintively, “I'm neurotic.
“I am not, Wolfe snapped, “a psychiatrist. I doubt if-
She cut him off. “I've been neurotic as long as I can remember. I had no brother or sister and my mother died when I was three, and my father didn't enjoy my company because I was ugly. When he died-I was twenty then-I cried all during the funeral service, not because he was dead but because I knew he wouldn't have wanted me so close to him all that time-in the church and driving to the cemetery and there at the grave.
Her jaw started to quiver again, but she clamped it and got control. “I'm telling you this because it's no secret anyway, and I want you to understand why
I must have help. I have never been sure exactly why my first husband married me, because he had money of his own and didn't really need mine, but it wasn't long until he hated looking at me just as my father had. So I-
“That isn't true, Sarah, Calvin Leeds objected. “You imagined-
“Bosh! she quashed him. “I'm not that neurotic So I got a divorce with his consent and gratitude, I think, though he was too polite to say so, and I hurried it through because I didn't want him to know I was pregnant. Soon after the divorce my son was born, and that made complications, but I kept him-I kept him and he was mine until he went to war. He never showed the slightest sign of feeling about my looks the way my father and my husband had. He was never embarrassed about me. He liked being with me. Didn't he, Calvin?
“Of course he did, Leeds assured her, apparently meaning it.
She nodded and looked thoughtful, looking into space and seeing something not there. She jerked herself impatiently back to Wolfe. “I admit that before he went away, to war, he got married, and he married a very beautiful girl. It is not true that I wished he had taken one who resembled me, even a little bit, but naturally I couldn't help but see that he had gone to the other extreme. Annabel is very beautiful. It made me proud for my son to have her-it seemed to even my score with all the beautiful women I had known and seen. She thinks I hate her, but that is not true. People as neurotic as I am should not be judged by normal standards. Not that I blame Annabel, for I know perfectly well that when the news came that he had been killed in Germany her loss was greater than mine. He wasn't mine any longer then, he was hers.
“Excuse me, Wolfe put in politely but firmly. “You wanted to consult me about your husband. You say you're divorced?
“Certainly not! I- She caught herself up. “Oh. This is my second husband. I only wanted you to understand.
Til try. Let's have him now.
“Barry Rackham, she said, pronouncing the name as if she held the copyright on it, or at least a lease on subsidiary rights. “He played football at Yale and then had a job in Wall Street until the war came. At the end of the war he was a major, which wasn't very far to get in nearly four years. We were married in
1946-three years and seven months ago. He is ten years younger than I am.
Mrs Barry Rackham paused, her eyes fixed on Wolfe's face as if challenging it for comment, but the challenge was declined. Wolfe merely prodded her with a murmur.
