dabbing. I waited until she could see to tell her:
“Brandy. 1890 Guarnier. Shall I put water in it?”
She shook her head and reached for it and gulped it down nicely. I offered her the water and she took a swallow of that. Then she looked at Nero Wolfe and said, “You'll have to excuse me. I'm not asking for any tenderness, but you'll have to excuse me.” She looked at her cousin. “I'm not going to talk to you about Uncle Boyd any more. It doesn't do any good, does it? It's foolish.” She dabbed at her eyes again, took in a long trembling breath and let it out, and turned back to Wolfe.
She said, “I don't care what Uncle Boyd told you about us Frosts. It couldn't have been anything very terrible, because he wouldn't tell lies. I don't care if you're working with the police, either. There couldn't be anything more…more distasteful to a Frost than what has happened. Anyway, the police never found out anything at all about Molly Lauck, and you did.”
Her tears had dried. She went on, I'm sorry I didn't tell you…of course I'm sorry. I thought I was keeping a secret for Uncle Boyd, but I'm sorry anyway. I only wish there was anything else I could tell you…but anyway…I can do this.
This is the only time I've been truly glad I have lots of money. I'll pay you anything to find out who killed Uncle Boyd. Anything, and…and you won't have to sue me for it.”.
I got her glass and went to the cabinet to get her some more brandy. I grinned at the bottle as I poured, reflecting that this case was turning out to be just one damned client after another.
Chapter Eleven
Llewellyn was expostulating. “But, Helen, it's a police job. Not that he could be any more offensive than the police are, but it's a police job and let them do it. Anyway, Dad and Aunt Gallic will be sore as the devil, you know they will, you know how they went after me when I…Tuesday.”
Helen said, “I don't care if they're sore. It's not their money, it's mine. I'm doing this. Of course I won't be of age until next month-does that matter, Mr.
Wolfe? Is that all right?”
“Quite all right.”
“Will you do it?”
“Will I accept your commission? In spite of my experience with another Frost as a client, yes.”
She turned to her ortho-cousin. “You do as you please, Lew. Go on home and tell them if you want to. But I…I'd like to have you…”
He was frowning at her. “Are you set on this?”
“Yes. Good and set.”
“Okay.” He settled back in his chair. “I stick here. I'm for the Frosts, but you're the first one on the list. You're… Oh, nothing.” He flushed a little.
“Go to it.”
“Thank you, Lew.” She turned to Wolfe. “I suppose you want me to sign something?”
Wolfe shook his head. “That won't be necessary.” He had leaned back and his eyes were half closed. “My charge will be adequate, but not exorbitant. I shan't attempt to make you pay for your cousin's volatility. But one thing must be clearly understood. You are engaging me for this job because of your affection and esteem for Mr. McNair and your desire that his murderer should be discovered and punished. You are at present under the spell of powerful emotions. Are you sure that tomorrow or next week you will still want this thing done? Do you want the murderer caught and tried and convicted and executed if it should happen to be, for instance, your cousin, your uncle, your mother- or Mr. Perren Gebert?”
“But that…that's ridiculous…”
“Maybe, but it remains a question to be answered. Do you want to pay me for catching the murderer, no matter who it is?”
She gazed at him, and said finally, “Yes. Whoever killed Uncle Boyd- yes, I do.”
“You won't go back on that?”
“Good for you. I believe you. I'll try the job for you. Now I want to ask you some questions, but it is possible that your reply to the first one will make the others unnecessary. When did you last see Mr. McNair's red leather box?”
“His what?” She frowned. “Red leather box?”
“That's it.” pJever. I never did see it. I didn't know he had one.”
“Indeed. – You, sir, are you answering questions?”
Lew Frost said, “I guess I am. Sure. But not about a red leather box. I've never seen it.”
Wolfe sighed. “Then I'm afraid well have to go on. I may as well tell you, Miss
Frost, that Mr. McNair foresaw-at least, feared-what was waiting for him. While you were here yesterday he was at his lawyer's executing his will. He left his property to his sister Isabel, who lives in Scotland.
