a face to blush with. There was one exception: a well-made tan wool dress standing by a corner of a desk contained a woman-a very attractive specimen in mold and frame, and in movement she could have been music. Standing beside her was Carl Drew. Seated at the desk was Sergeant Purley Stebbins, with a paper in his hand and other papers on the desk. Also on the desk, at his left, was a telephone-the one, presumably, that Wolfe and I had heard hit the floor.
What I had stumbled into was obvious. Purley was examining the effects, including papers, probably the second time over, of Bianca Voss, deceased, under surveillance on behalf of Alec Gallant Incorporated.
“Actually,” I said, advancing past the immodest dummy, “this is one homicide I have no finger in. I’m on a fishing trip.” I moved my eyes. “Would you tell me, Mr. Drew, where I can find Miss Thorne?”
“Right here,” the tan wool dress said. “I am Miss Thorne.”
“I’m Archie Goodwin of Nero Wolfe’s office. May I have a word with you?”
She exchanged glances with Carl Drew. Her glance told me that Drew had told her about me; and his, if I am half as bright as I ought to be, told me that if he was not on a more personal basis with her than he had been with Sarah Yare it wasn’t his fault. If he wasn’t he would like to be.
“Go ahead,” Drew told her. “I’ll stick around.” She moved toward the door, and I was following when Purley pronounced my name, my last name. He has on occasion called me Archie, but not when I suddenly appeared, uninvited, when he was working on a homicide. I turned.
“Who are you fishing for?” he demanded.
“If I knew,” I said, “I might tell you, but don’t hold your breath.” There was no point in trying to sugar him. The damage, if any, had been done the second he saw me. “See you in court.”
Emmy Thorne led me down the hall to a door, the next one, and opened it. Walking, she could have been music at that, if her heels had had any purchase. She held the door for me to enter, shut it, went to a chair behind a desk, and sat. The room was less than half the size of the others and displayed neither women nor clothes.
“Sit down,” she said. “What is this nonsense about letters from Sarah Yare?”
I took the chair at the end of her desk. “You know,” I said, “my tie must be crooked or I’ve got a grease spot. Mr. Drew resented me, and Mr. Gallant was going to throw an ashtray at me. Now you. Why is it nonsense to ask a simple question politely and respectfully?”
“Maybe ‘nonsense’ isn’t the word. Maybe I should have said ‘gall.’ What right have you to march in here and ask questions at all? Polite or not.”
“None. It’s not a right, it’s a liberty. I have no right to ask you to have dinner with me this evening, which might not be a bad idea, but I’m at liberty to, and you’re at liberty to tell me you’d rather dine at the automat with a baboon, only that wouldn’t be very polite. Also when I ask if you have any letters from Sarah Yare you’re at liberty to tell me to go climb a tree if you find the question ticklish. I might add that I would be at liberty to climb a pole instead of a tree. Have you any letters from Sarah Yare?”
She laughed. She had fine teeth. She stopped laughing abruptly. “Good Lord,” she said, “I didn’t think I would laugh for a year. This mess, what happened here yesterday, and then Sarah. No, I have no letters from her. You don’t have to climb a tree.” The laughter was all gone, and her gray eyes, straight at me, were cool and keen. “What else?”
Again I had to resist temptation. With Drew the temptation had been purely professional; with her it was only partly professional and only partly pure. Cramer had said she was in charge of contacts, and one more might be good for her.
Having resisted, I shook my head. “Nothing else, unless you know of something. For instance, if you know of anyone who might have letters.”
“I don’t.” She regarded me. “Of course I’m curious, if you want to call it that. I was very fond of Sarah, and this coming after all her trouble, naturally I’m wondering why you came here. You say Nero Wolfe is making an inquiry?”
“Yes, he sent me. I don’t know who his client is, but my guess would be that it’s some friend of Miss Yare’s.”
I stood up. “Someone else may be curious. Thank you, Miss Thorne. I’m glad I don’t have to climb a tree.”
She got up and offered a hand. “You might tell me who it is.”
“I might if I knew.” Her hand was cool and firm and I kept it for a second. “I’m sorry I interrupted you in there.” That was absolutely true. “By the way, one more liberty: is Miss Gallant around?”
She said no and came with me to the hall and left me, heading for the scene of the crime. I went the other way, to the elevator. Down on the main floor the woman was there alone, at a table with a portfolio. Not at all like Macy’s main floor. Emerging, I turned left, found a phone booth on Madison Avenue, dialed the number I knew best, got Fritz, and asked for Wolfe.
His voice came. “Yes, Archie?”
“It’s full of fish. Swarming. Sarah Yare bought her clothes there for two years and they all loved her. I’m phoning to ask about Flora Gallant. I’ve seen all the others, but Flora isn’t around. My guess is that she’s at the DA’s office. Do I stick until she comes?”
“No. Satisfactory.”
“Any further instructions?”
“No. Come home.”
Chapter 4
