“Then that’s what I’ll learn, madam. I’ll have to tell the police what he was to do and whom he was to see; that can’t be postponed much longer; but it may make things easier for you if I can also tell them that I have talked with you-depending, of course, on what you tell me. Or would you prefer to save it for the police?”
“My God.” Tom Irwin groaned. “This is a nice mess.”
“And we can thank you for it,” Arkoff told Wolfe. “Sicking your damn snoop on us.” His head turned. “And you, Selma. You started it.”
“Let Selma alone,” Rita ordered him. “She’s had a rough time and you can’t blame her.” She looked at Wolfe, and she wasn’t pouting. “Let’s go ahead and get it over with. Yes, your man saw me, at my apartment. He came when I was about ready to leave, to meet my husband for dinner. He said he was investigating the possibility of a new trial for Peter Hays. I thought he was after Selma’s alibi and I told him he might as well save his breath because she was with me every minute, but it was the invitation he wanted to ask about. He asked when I first thought of asking Selma, and I said at the restaurant when Tom phoned and told me Fanny couldn’t make it. He asked why I asked Selma instead of someone else, and I said because I liked her and enjoyed her company, and also because when Tom phoned I asked him if he wanted to suggest anyone and he suggested Selma. He asked if Tom gave any special reason for having Selma, and I said he didn’t have to because I wanted her anyway. He was going to ask more, but I was late and I said that was all I knew anyhow. So that was all-no, he asked when he could see my husband, and I told him we’d be home around ten o’clock and he might see him then.”
“Did he?”
“Yes. We got home a little after ten and he was waiting down in the lobby.”
Wolfe’s eyes moved. “Mr. Arkoff?”
Jerry hesitated, then shrugged. “I talked with him there in the lobby. I didn’t ask him upstairs because I had some scripts to go over. He asked me the same things he had asked my wife, but I couldn’t tell him as much as she had because she had talked with Tom on the phone. I really couldn’t tell him anything. He tried to be clever, asking trick questions about how it was decided to invite Mrs. Molloy, and finally I got fed up and told him to go peddle his papers.”
“Did he say anything about having seen Mr. or Mrs. Irwin?”
“No. I don’t think so. No.”
“Then he left?”
“I suppose so. We left him in the lobby when we went to the elevator.”
“You and your wife went up to your apartment?”
“Yes.”
“What did you do the rest of the evening?”
Arkoff took a breath. “By God,” he said, “if anyone had told me an hour ago that I was going to be asked where I was at the time of the murder I would have thought he was crazy.”
“No doubt. It does often seem an impertinence. Where were you?”
“I was in my apartment, working with scripts until after midnight. My wife was in another room, and neither of us could have gone out without the other one knowing it. No one else was there.”
“That seems conclusive. Certainly either conclusive or collusive.” Wolfe’s eyes went right. “Mr. Irwin, since Mr. Keems had been told that you had suggested Mrs. Molloy, I presume he sought you. Did he find you?”
From the expression on Tom Irwin’s face, he needed a hand to hold. He opened his mouth and closed it again. “I’m not sure I like this,” he said. “If I’m going to be questioned about a murder I think I’d rather be questioned by the police.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” his wife protested. “He won’t bite you! Do what Rita did, get it over with!” She went to Wolfe. “Do you want me to tell it?”
“If you were present, madam.”
“I was. That man-what was his name?”
“John Joseph Keems.”
“It was nearly nine o’clock when he came, and we were just going out. We had promised to drop in at a party some friends were giving for somebody, and we would have been gone if my maid hadn’t had to fix the lining of my wrap. He said the same thing he told Rita, about the possibility of a new trial for Peter Hays, and he asked my husband about the phone call to the restaurant. Rita has told you about that. Actually-”
“Did your husband’s account of it agree with Mrs. Arkoffs?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t it? Actually, though, it was I who suggested asking Selma Molloy. While Tom was at the phone I told him to tell her to ask Selma because I could trust him with her. It was partly a joke, but I’m one of those jealous wives. Then he wanted to ask some more questions, I mean that man Keems, but by that time my wrap was ready and we had told him all we knew. That was all there was to it.”
“Did your husband tell him that you had suggested asking Mrs. Molloy?”
“Yes, I’m pretty sure-Didn’t you, Tom?”
“Yes.”
“And you went to the party? How late did you stay?”
“Not late at all. It was a bore, and my husband was tired. We got home around eleven and went to bed. We sleep in the same room.”
Wolfe started to make a face, realized he was doing it, and called it off. The idea of sleeping in the
