the chain and Fritz's voice came through:

'Archie?'

'Yeah. Open up.'

The door swung open and I entered. After one glance at my cargo Fritz staggered back a step.

'Grand Dieu! Is she dead?'

'Naw, she's not even sick. Lock the door.'

The door of the office was standing open and I went through sidewise to keep from knocking her head against the jamb. Wolfe was there reading a book. He looked up and saw what I had, made a face, dog- eared a page and closed the book, and sat and shook his head. A glance at the couch showed me that it was still covered with the maps which he had spread all over it three days previously with instructions that they were not to be touched, so I put her down on the floor, in the middle of the rug, straightened my back to remove a kink, pointed an unwavering finger at her, and said casually, 'Madame Zorka.'

He folded his arms. 'What's the matter with her?'

'Nothing.'

'Did you hit her?'

'No.'

'Don't be an ass. You don't carry women around and lay them on the floor when there's nothing wrong with them. Is she unconscious?'

'I don't think so. Her contention is that she is in a drunken stupor. But I think she's playing charades. I found her in a penthouse love nest on Madison Avenue. Barrett furnishes the nest and Belinda Reade the love. You know? Belinda was there and Zorka was her guest. Zorka denied that she had made any phone call to this office and she refused to leave. I made a phone call to work up pressure, and she came. She is almost certainly listening carefully to what we are saying. She'll smother in here with that fur coat buttoned up.'

I stooped and unfastened the coat and flung it open. Wolfe got to his feet, walked around the desk and stood frowning down at her.

'She has no stockings on.'

'Right.'

'What's that thing she's wearing? A dress?'

'Oh heavens, no. I think it's a drinking gown.'

'And you think she's shamming?'

'I do.'

'Well.' He turned and called, 'Fritz!' Fritz was right there. Wolfe told him, 'Bring a dozen ice cubes.'

I knelt down beside the patient and felt her pulse and then pried open her eyelid and took a look at the iris, and announced that it would be perfectly safe to proceed with the experiment. Wolfe, looking down at me, nodded gravely. Fritz appeared with the dish of ice cubes and Wolfe told him to give them to me. I took a cube and laid it on her cheek and it slid off. I picked it up and carefully placed it at the base of her neck, in a little depression where the shoulder began, and it stayed nicely. Then I gently but firmly lifted her arm, held it up with my left hand, and with my right hand got another cube and as modestly as possible worked it under the edge of the red robe until it was snug in her armpit, and let the arm down.

The reaction was so sudden and violent, it startled me into spilling the rest of the cubes all over the rug, and her knees in my belly nearly spilled me too. She didn't stop at sitting up, but scrambled to her feet, with Wolfe retreating to make room for her. She shook herself, more of a spasm than a shake, and the ice cube emerged from under the hem of the gown to the floor. She goggled around at us, perceived a chair, and sank into it.

'What-what-'she stammered.

'Wrong line,' I told her. 'Say, 'Where am I?' '

She groaned and pressed both palms against her forehead. Wolfe, having waited until Fritz had retrieved all the cubes, moved back to his chair and lowered his fundament. He regarded her sourly for a full minute of silence and then spoke to me.

'And what,' he demanded resentfully, 'would you suggest that we do with her?'

'Search me. It was you that wanted her.'

'I don't want her like that.'

'Send her home.' I added emphatically, 'In a taxi.'

'We can't send her home. The police are looking for her, and one will be posted at her door, and I want to talk to her first.'

'Go ahead and talk to her.'

'I want to ask her some questions. Is she capable of coherence?'

'Capable, yes. But I doubt if she'll cohere, with ice or without. Go on and try it.'

He looked at her. 'Madame Zorka, I am Nero Wolfe. I would like to discuss something with you. When were you last in Yugoslavia?'

With her face covered with her hands, she shook her head, moaned, and muttered something not even as intelligible as gibblezook.

Вы читаете Over My Dead Body
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