all had the same idea-I forget who started it-that it would be best not to remember who put the bottle in front of Orchard. So we didn't. Now that you know about the tape, I do remember, and if the others don't they ought to.” “Quit trying to protect me, Bill,” Miss Fraser scolded him. “It was my idea, about not remembering. I started it.” Again several of them spoke at once. Wolfe showed them a palm: “Please! Mr Traub. Manifestly it doesn't matter whether you give me a yes or a no, since you alone were not aware that one of the bottles had a distinction; but I ask you pro forma, did you place that bottle before Mr Orchard?” “I don't know,” Traub said belligerently, “and I don't care. Meadows doesn't know either.” “But you did help pass the glasses and bottles around?” “I've told you I did. I thought it was fun.” He threw up both hands. “Fun!” “There's one thing,” Madeline Fraser put in, for Wolfe. “Mr Meadows said that they all saw that Mr Orchard had my bottle, except me. That's only partly true.
I didn't notice it at first, but when I lifted the glass to drink and smelled the Starlite I knew someone else had my glass. I went ahead and faked the drinking, and as I went on with the script I saw that the bottle with the tape on it was a little nearer to him than to me-as you know, he sat across from me.
I had to decide quickly what to do-not me with the Starlite but him with the coffee. I was afraid he would blurt out that it tasted like coffee, especially since he had taken two big gulps. I was feeling relieved that apparently he wasn't going to, when he sprang up with that terrible cry…so what Mr Meadows said was only partly true. I suppose he was protecting me some more, but I'm tired of being protected by everybody.” “He isn't listening, Lina,” Miss Koppel remarked.
It was a permissible conclusion, but not necessarily sound. Wolfe had leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, and even to me it might have seemed that he was settling for a snooze but for two details: first, dinner time was getting close, and second, the tip of his right forefinger was doing a little circle on the arm of his chair, around and around. The silence held for seconds, made a minute, and started on another one.
Someone said something.
Wolfe's eyes came half-open and he straightened up.
“I could,” he said, either to himself or to them, “ask you to stay to dinner. Or to return after dinner. But if Miss Fraser is tired of being protected, I am tired of being humbugged. There are things I need to know, but I don't intend to try to pry them out of you without a lever. If you are ready to let me have them, I'm ready to take them. You know what they are as well as I do. It now seems obvious that this was an attempt to kill Miss Fraser. What further evidence is there to support that assump- tion, and what evidence is there, if any, to contradict it? Who wants Miss Fraser to die, and why? Particularly, who of those who had access to the bottle of coffee, at any time from the moment it was bottled at her apartment to the moment when it was served at the broadcast?
And so on. I won't put all the questions; you know what I want. Will any of you give it to me-any of it?” His gaze passed along the line. No one said a word.
“One or more of you,” he said, “might prefer not to speak in the presence of the others. If so, do you want to come back later? This evening?” “If I had anything to tell you,” Bill Meadows asserted, “I'd tell you now.” “You sure would,” Traub agreed.
“I thought not,” Wolfe said grimly. “To get anything out of you another Miss Shepherd would be necessary. One other chance: if you prefer not even to make an appointment in the presence of the others, we are always here to answer the phone. But I would advise you not to delay.” He pushed his chair back and got erect. “That's all I have for you now, and you have nothing for me.” They didn't like that much. They wanted to know what he was going to do.
Especially and unanimously, they wanted to know what about their secret. Was the world going to hear of what a sip of Starlite did to Madeline Fraser? On that Wolfe refused to commit himself. The stubbornest of the bunch was Traub. When the others finally left he stayed behind, refusing to give up the fight, even trying to follow Wolfe into the kitchen. I had to get rude to get rid of him.
When Wolfe emerged from the kitchen, instead of bearing left toward the dining-room he returned to the office, although dinner was ready.
I followed. “What's the idea? Not hungry?” “Get Mr Cramer.” I went to my desk and obeyed.
Wolfe got on.
“How do you do, sir.“ He was polite but far from servile. “Yes. No. No, indeed.
If you will come to my office after dinner, say at jiine o'clock, I'll tell you why you haven't got
