Death of a Doxy (Crime Line)

He shook his head and said, 'There's nobody there.'

'I know,' I said, 'that Mrs. Fleming isn't receiving any strangers, but I'm not a newspaperman. I want to discuss a personal matter with her, and I'm sure she would want to.' In his case, the face was the index of the mind. He wasn't impressed and wasn't going to be. The only question was how much. I removed my gloves, got out my case and extracted a card, got out my wallet and extracted a finif, and said, 'On the level. Do you want to see my license? Take me up, and if she doesn't let me in I'll double this.'

He took the card and looked it over, took the bill and stuck it in a pocket, and said, 'On the level, there's nobody there. She went out around ten o'clock.'

He deserved a good poke, but it wouldn't have been tactful. I merely asked, 'Do you know where she went?'

He shook his head. 'No idea.'

'Do you know when she'll be back?'

'No, I don't.'

I gave him a friendly smile. 'That's not fifty cents' worth, let alone five bucks'.' I got my wallet again and took out a ten. 'What floor is she on?'

'Seven. Seven D.'

'I need to see her, and she needs to see me. Take me up, and I'll wait there. You have my card. If you want to, get an inkpad and take my fingerprints.'

He surprised me. He had a heart in him somewhere. He actually said, 'She might be gone all day, and there's no place to sit.'

'There's always the floor.'

He gave me his eyes, looked straight at me for the first time. 'No funny business, mister. The doors have got pretty good locks.'

'I don't know anything about locks. There's nothing there for me until she comes.' I went to the elevator and pressed my fingertips, all ten, against the metal frame, at eye level. 'There. You've got me.' I offered the sawbuck. He took it, followed me into the elevator, shut the door, and pushed the handle.

There are a lot of interesting things to do while you're waiting in an upper hall of an apartment house for four hours and twenty minutes. You can count spots and decide which has more, the left wall or the right wall. You can try to sort out smells and decide how many different flavors there are in the overall effect. You can listen to the wails coming through the door of 7B and decide whether the little lamb is male or female and how old it is, and what steps you would take if you were inside. When people arrive or leave you can look straight at them and notice which ones look back and which ones pretend they haven't seen you. When a hefty, broad- shouldered woman turns after inserting a key into the lock of 7C and asks, 'Are you waiting for someone?' you can say pleasantly and distinctly, 'Yes,' and see how she reacts. On the whole, it was time well spent. My one regret was that I hadn't brought along a chocolate bar, five or six bananas, and a quart of milk.

I admit I frequently glanced at my watch. It was ten minutes to five when the elevator door opened and a man emerged. When he kept coming down the hall I assumed he was headed for E or F, but he stopped to face me and spoke.

'I understand you're waiting for my wife.'

Of course I had to concede it. 'Yes, sir, I am, if you're Barry Fleming.'

'She won't see you. You're wasting your time. She won't see anybody.'

I nodded. 'I know, but I think she'll see me if she lets me explain why.'

I sent a hand to my pocket for the case, but before I had a card out he said, 'I know who you are. I should say, I have seen the card you gave the elevator man. Are you Archie Goodwin?'

'I am. In person. Look, Mr. Fleming, why not leave it to her? When she comes I'll tell her what I want to talk about, and it will be up to her. I won't insist, I'll just ask her.'

'What do you want to talk about?'

I would have preferred to tell her, but a husband is a husband. 'About a man,' I said. 'His name is Orrie Cather, and the police think he killed Isabel Kerr. He has worked off and on for Nero Wolfe, and Mr. Wolfe and I know him very well, and we don't think he did. You know I work for Nero Wolfe?'

'Of course.'

'We are looking into it a little, and I would like very much to ask your wife if she can supply any information that might help. Naturally she wants the murderer of her sister caught and punished, but she wouldn't want it to be Orrie Cather if he's innocent. You wouldn't, would you?'

'Of course not.' He was puckering his lips and frowning at me. He was about my height, narrow- shouldered and narrow-hipped, with a long face that showed the cheekbones. He went on, 'I wouldn't want an innocent man punished for anything, certainly not for murder. But I doubt very much if my wife can give you any information that would help. She's not – she's taking it pretty hard.'

'Sure. Believe me, I don't want to make it any harder for her.'

'Well – where's your coat?'

'There.' I pointed to it, on the floor by the wall.

'Get it. There's no sense in waiting out here.' With a key ring in his hand, he went to the door of 7D. When I came with my coat he was holding the door open and I entered. The foyer was about the size of a pool table. He hung my coat in the closet before he took his off, and as he was hanging his up the door opened and a woman entered. At the sight of me she gawked a second, then whirled to him.

'Barry! You let him in?'