“No trace?”
“None so far. Now we’ll ask Connecticut to dig. I don’t know how many floater plates there are in New York this minute, but there are plenty.”
“How good a description have you got of the driver?”
“We’ve got four and no two alike. Three of them aren’t worth a damn and the other one may be-a man that had just come out of the drugstore and happened to notice the kid going to the car with his rag. He says the driver was a man about forty, dark brown suit, light complexion, regular features, felt hat pulled down nearly to his ears. He says he thinks he could identify him.” Purley got up. “I’ll be going. I’ll admit I’m disappointed. I fully expected either I’d get a lead from you or I’d find you covering for a client.”
Wolfe opened his eyes, “I wish you luck, Mr. Stebbins. That boy ate at my table yesterday.”
“Yeah,” Purley growled, “that makes it bad. People have no business running over boys that ate at your table.”
On that sociable note he marched out, and I went to the hall with him. As I put my hand on the doorknob a figure rose to view outside, coming up the steps to the stoop, and when I pulled the door open there she was-a skinny little woman in a neat dark blue dress, no jacket and no hat, with puffed red eyes and her mouth pressed so tight there were no lips.
Stebbins was just back of me as I addressed her. “Can I help you, madam?”
She squeezed words out. “Does Mr. Nero Wolfe live here?”
I told her yes.
“Do you think I could see him? I won’t be long. My name is Mrs. Anthea Drossos.”
She had been crying and looked as if she might resume any second, and a crying woman is one of the things Wolfe won’t even try to take. So I told her he was busy, and I was his confidential assistant, and wouldn’t she please tell me.
She raised her head to meet my eyes straight. “My boy Pete told me to see Mr. Nero Wolfe,” she said, “and I’ll just wait here till I can see him.” She propped herself against the railing of the stoop.
I backed up and shut the door. Stebbins was at my heels as I entered the office and spoke to Wolfe. “Mrs. Anthea Drossos wants to see you. She says her boy Pete told her to. I won’t do. She’ll camp on the stoop all night if she has to. She might start crying in your presence. What do I do, take a mattress out to her?”
That opened his eyes all right. “Confound it. What can I do for the woman?”
“Nothing. Me too. But she won’t take it from me.”
“Then why the devil-pfui! Bring her in. That performance of yours yesterday-bring her in.”
I went and got her. When I ushered her in Purley was planted back in his chair. With my hand on her elbow because she didn’t seem any too sure of her footing, I steered her to the red leather number, which would have held three of her. She perched on the edge, with her black eyes-blacker, I suppose, because of the contrast with the inflamed lids-aimed at Wolfe.
Her voice was low and a little quavery, but determined. “Are you Mr. Nero Wolfe?”
He admitted it. She shifted the eyes to me, then to Stebbins, and back to Wolfe. “These gentlemen?” she asked.
“Mr. Goodwin, my assistant, and Mr. Stebbins, a policeman who is investigating the death of your son.”
She nodded. “I thought he looked like a cop. My boy Pete wouldn’t want me to tell this to a cop.”
From her tone and expression it seemed pretty plain that she didn’t intend to do anything her boy Pete wouldn’t have wanted her to do, and therefore we had a problem. With Purley’s deep suspicion that Wolfe, not to mention me, would rather be caught dead than with nothing up his sleeve, he sure wasn’t going to bow out. But without hesitation he arose, said, “I’ll go to the kitchen,” and headed for the door.
My surprise lasted half a second, until I realized where he was going. In the alcove at the rear end of the hall, across from the kitchen, there was a hole in the wall that partitioned the alcove from the office. On the office side the hole was covered with a trick picture, and from the alcove side, when you slid a panel, you could see and hear movements and sounds from the office. Purley knew all about it.
As Purley disappeared I thought it just as well to warn Wolfe. “The picture.”
“Certainly,” Wolfe said peevishly. He looked at Mrs. Drossos. “Well, madam?”
She was taking nothing for granted. She got up and went to the open door to look both ways in the hall, shut the door, and returned to her seat. “You know Pete got killed.”
“Yes, I know.”
“They told me, and I ran down to the street, and there he was. He was unconscious but he wasn’t dead. They let me ride in the ambulance with him. That was when he told me. He opened-”
She stopped. I was afraid it was going to bust, and so was she, but after sitting for half a minute without a muscle moving she had it licked and could go on. “He opened his eyes and saw me, and I put my head down to him. He said-I think I can tell you just what he said-he said, ‘Tell Nero Wolfe he got me. Don’t tell anybody but Nero Wolfe. Give him my money in the can.’”
She stopped and was rigid again. After a full minute of it Wolfe nudged her. “Yes, madam?”
She opened her bag, of black leather that had seen some wear but was good for more, fingered in
