Death of a Doxy (Crime Line)

such items as the results to date of a cross between Odonto-glossum crispo-harryanum x aireworthi or Miltonia vexillaria x roezli.

When they came down together in the elevator at six o'clock, I was too busy even to turn my head, but I became aware of a presence near my right shoulder, and a voice asked, 'Can I help?'

So we were speaking. I said, 'No, thanks.'

'Did you phone?'

'Yeah, you have a cold.'

'Has anything happened?'

'Yes. We have made up. Apparently.'

'Oh, I never nurse a huff. Anyway, I knew you were right. I just wanted to see how mean you could get. One thing I could have said, I could have threatened to call a cop. Evidently the one thing you and Nero can't stand is for anybody to tell a cop anything. It's been more than four hours since she left. Damn it, what's she doing?'

That was the second time I had ever heard a woman call him Nero, but the other time it had been a gag. For Julie it was just natural. If she stayed two days and two nights in a man's house, and ate with him, and collaborated with him, and helped him with his orchids, it would have been silly to call him Mister. If she got the fifty grand and picked a college that wasn't too far away, I might drop in after she had been there a while to see what effect she was having. It was a cinch that she would have more effect on it than it would have on her.

I accepted her offer to help with the germination records.

At the dinner table Wolfe didn't repeat his performance of the day before. It was no longer necessary to quiz her, and he put her in her place by discussing the difference between imagination and invention in literature. She did get a word in now and then. Once when his mouth was full of sweetbreads she said, 'You're talking over my head on purpose. Show me one thing in one book and ask me if it's imagination or invention and I'll tell you every time, and let's see you prove I'm wrong.' That's no way to talk to a man who is doing his best to prepare you for college.

While Fritz was pouring after-dinner coffee in the office, Julie said, 'I'd give a brand-new dollar bill to know what she's doing. What's her number? I'll call her.'

'Yeah,' I said.

She looked at Wolfe. 'You get on my nerves because you haven't got any. You wouldn't give a rusty nickel to know what she's doing.'

'Why should I?' he growled, and sipped coffee.

It was obvious that they had had enough of each other for a while, and when we had finished with the coffee I took her down to the basement. The basement has Fritz's room and bath, a storeroom, and a large room with a pool table. I had mentioned it to her, and she had said she would like to learn how to use a cue, and it might take her mind off of Stella Fleming, not to mention mine. But she didn't get her pool lesson. I had taken the cover off, and picked a cue for her, and racked the balls, when the doorbell rang. If I hadn't caught her arm she would have beaten me to the stairs, and she was right at my heels when I reached the hall and took a look at the front.

'My God,' she said, 'she hashed it.' I stepped to the office door and told Wolfe, 'Cramer.' He looked up from his book and tightened his lips. I told Julie, 'Go to the kitchen and stay there.' The doorbell rang. Julie went, but not to the kitchen, to the alcove, where the hole was. I said, 'If you sneeze, I'll boil you in oil,' and went to the front and opened the door.

From the look Cramer gave me, he was set to boil me in oil whether I sneezed or not. That was all he had for me, the look. By the time I had his coat hung up he was at the office door, and when I got there he was already in the red leather chair and talking. He was saying, '… and you knew Barry Fleming fired those shots, and I want to know how you knew. You also knew Barry Fleming had killed Isabel Kerr, and I want to know how you knew that.'

Good-by, fifty grand, I thought as I crossed to my desk. They had Fleming, and ten to one they would open him up, no matter how Stella had handled him. Maybe they already had.

Wolfe said, 'You're fuming, Mr. Cramer.'

'You're damn right I am.'

'Then you're at a disadvantage. Don't you want to compose your mind?'

'I want you to answer questions!'

'If I know the answers. You say that I knew that Barry Fleming killed Isabel Kerr. I remind you that last evening I told you that I had no evidence that would help to convict anyone of that murder, that I had only a surmise. I repeat that. I still have no evidence. Have you?'

'Yes.'

'Is Barry Fleming in custody?'

'No.' Cramer's jaw was set. 'Look, Wolfe. You've got what you wanted. You wanted to spring Cather, and you've worked it. He's clear. Now. I don't need evidence for Fleming, even if you've got it. I want some facts. I want to know if Barry Fleming fired those shots at Julie Jaquette, and if so why.'

Wolfe's shoulders went up an eighth of an inch and down again. 'Is that important? Important to you? Since you have him for murder – or have you? You say he's not in custody. If by any chance you think I have him here, waiting for you, I haven't. Is it -'

'You haven't got him here. He's dead.'

'Indeed. By violence?'

'Yes.'