'Call me Archie.' It struck me that a little reinforcement might help, so I stretched for the bottle and a glass. Then I drew back and turned to Barrett. 'But excuse me. If you're the host…'
'This is Miss Reade's apartment,' he said stiffly. 'But you came here-'
'Please have a drink,' the lady begged me.
'Thanks, I will.' I poured a good one and tossed it off, and then advised Barrett, 'You ought to have a shot yourself. You're under a strain.' I confronted Zorka. 'The idea is this. After you phoned me at Nero Wolfe's office and told me-'
'What? After what?'
I went closer so she could focus easier. 'After you phoned and told me you saw Miss Tormic putting something in my overcoat pocket-'
'But I didn't! I? I phoned you?' She waved her glass at Belinda, spilling a drop or two on the rug, and said in a hurt tone, 'Don't let him have another drink! He says I phoned him!'
'Maybe you did, darling. You phone so many men. I wouldn't blame you for phoning him. I like him.'
'But I didn't!'
'Well, you should have.' Belinda used the blue eyes on me. 'Have a drink, Percy.'
'Not Percy, Archie. Percy was the one that got murdered.'
'Oh.' She frowned at me. 'That's right. That's why we started drinking, to forget about it. Brrrh.' She shivered, 'And I called you Percy! How funny! Don't you think that's funny, Donnyhoney?'
'No,' Barrett declared curtly. 'This fellow-'
'But of course it's funny! I like Archie, and why should I call him Percy?' She shivered again. 'It was perfectly terrible! Simply awful! The porter yelling and Percy lying there on the floor, and the police and-' She stopped and stared at me with her lips parted. 'Why! I forgot! You son-of-a-gun! It was you that wouldn't let me out of that door! You dirty bum!'
Barrett tapped me on the shoulder. 'You know, you came-'
'Yeah, I know.' I faced Zorka. She had the fixed smile on again. I would have given an hour's sleep to know how many drinks she had had. 'About your phoning me,' I said. 'Maybe I was just trying to brag. It's my one weakness, bragging about women phoning me. The fact is, I came along with Donald Barrett to save him some trouble. I had to come to 48th Street anyway, to get my car. He told me he had asked you to come and spend the night with Miss Reade, but after the talk we had that wasn't necessary, so he supposed you would want to go home, and that's really what I came for, to take you home. Isn't that right, Barrett?'
'I didn't agree-'
'Isn't that right?'
'Well… yes.'
'Sure it is. So if you'll just put on a coat-you don't need to bother to dress-we can take your bag and suitcase-'
'What for?' she demanded.
'Why, if you're going home you'll want your luggage-'
'I'm not going home.'
'My God, it's nearly daylight-'
'I'm not going home. Am I going home, Belinda?'
'You are not. Even if you were, you wouldn't go with him. I don't like him. Didn't you hear me say I remembered that I don't like him?'
I poured myself another drink, drank it, sat down on the end of the chaise-longue next to Zorka's feet and considered the situation. It had various aspects, the basic problem being whether she was or was not honestly stoozled. If she was, she wouldn't be worth a damn to Wolfe even if I got her there. But I had my reputation to consider. Over a period of years Wolfe had sent me many places many times, to bring him everything from a spool of thread to a Wall Street broker, and I had batted mighty close to a thousand. Besides that, if I went back without her I knew what Wolfe would say: and in addition to that, her silly smile aggravated me.
I stood up and told Barrett in a cold inflexible tone, 'It's up to you, brother. You got her here, now you can get her out.'
'He didn't get me here,' Zorka said. 'I came here myself.'
'How do you expect me to get her out?' Barrett demanded. 'Carry her?'
Zorka said, 'Nobody had better touch me. Nobody!'
Belinda said, 'Nobody had better touch anybody. Especially you, you good-looking bum.'
Barrett said, 'I brought you here. That's all I agreed to do. I didn't agree-what's the idea?'
I ignored him and continued on around the head of the divan to where a red-enamelled phone was resting on a long narrow table. He scowled at me while I dialled a number. Belinda commanded him.
'Tackle him, Donny darling. Knock him down and walk on him. Don't let him use my phone. Don't let him use anything-'
A voice sounded in my ear: 'This is Nero Wolfe.'
