“You couldn't be expected to think. You were in no condition for it.” Wolfe leaned back. “So. You don't know what Mr. Gebert died of.”
“No. There was no sound…no anything…”
“Do you know whether he ate or drank anything at the chapel?”
Her head jerked up. She swallowed. “No, I'm sure he didn't.”
“No matter.” Wolfe sighed. “That will be learned. You say that after Mr. Gebert jumped back from his car he yelled. Did he yell anything in particular?”
“Yes…he did. My mother's name. Like calling for help.”
One of Wolfe's brows went up. “I trust he yelled it ardently. Forgive me for permitting myself a playful remark; Mr. Gebert would understand it, were he here. So he yelled 'Calida.' More than once?”
“Yes, several times. If you mean…my mother's name…”
“I meant nothing really. I was talking nonsense. It appears that, so far as you know, Mr. Gebert may have died of a heart attack or a clot on the brain or acute misanthropy. But I believe you said it made you afraid. What of?”
She looked at him, opened her mouth, and closed it again. She stammered. “That's why…that's what…” and stopped. Her hands unclasped and fluttered up, and down again. She took another try at it: “I told you…I've been afraid…”
“Very well.” Wolfe showed her a palm. “You needn't do that. I understand. You mean that for some time you have been apprehensive of something malign in the relations of those closest and dearest to you. Naturally the death of Mr. McNair made it worse. Was it because-but forgive me. I am indulging one of my vices at a bad time-bad for you. I would not hesitate to torment you if it served our end, but it is useless now. Nothing more is needed. Did you intend to marry Mr.
Gebert?”
“No. I never did.”
“Did you have affection for him?”
“No. I told you…I didn't really like him.”
“Good. Then once the temporary shock is past you can be objective about it. Mr.
Gebert had very little to recommend him, either as a sapient being or as a biological specimen. The truth is that his death simplifies our task a little, and I feel no regret and shall pretend to none. Still his murder will be avenged, because we can't help ourselves. I assure you, Miss Frost, I am not trying to mystify you. But since I am not yet ready to tell you everything, I suppose it would be best to tell you nothing, so I'll confine myself, for this evening, to one piece of advice. Of course you have friends-for instance, that
Miss Mitchell who attempted loyalty to you on Tuesday morning. Go there, now, without informing anyone, and spend the night. Mr. Goodwin can drive you.
Tomorrow-”
“No.” She was shaking her head. 1 won't do that. What you said…about Perren's murder. He was murdered.
Wasn't he?”
“Certainly. He died ardently. I repeat that because I like it. If you make a conjecture from it, all the better as preparation for you. I do not advise your spending the night with a friend on account of any danger to yourself, for there is none. In fact, there is no danger left for anyone, except as I embody it. But you must know that if you go home you won't get much sleep. The police will be clamoring for minutiae; they are probably bullying your family at this moment, and it would only be common sense to save yourself from that catechism. Tomorrow morning I could inform you of developments.”
She shook her head again. “No.” She sounded decisive. “I'll go home. I don't want to run away…I just came here…and anyhow, mother and Lew and my uncle…no. I'll go home. But if you could only tell me… please, Mr. Wolfe, please…if you could tell me something so I would know…”
“I can't. Not now. I promise you, soon. In the meantime-” The phone rang. I swiveled and got it. Right away I was in a scrap. Some sap with a voice like a foghorn was going to have me put Wolf e on the wire immediately and no fooling, without bothering to tell me who it was that wanted him. I derided him until he boomed at me to hold it. After waiting a minute I heard another voice, one I recognized at once:
“Goodwin? Inspector Cramer. Maybe I don't need Wolfe. I'd hate to disturb him.
Is Helen Frost there?”
“Who? Helen Frost?”
“That's what I said.”
“Why should she be? Do you think we run a night shift? Wait a minute, I didn't know it was you, I think Mr. Wolfe wants to ask you something.” I smothered the transmitter and turned: “Inspector Cramer wants to know if Miss Frost is here.”
Wolfe lifted his shoulders half an inch and dropped them. Our client said, “Of course. Tell him yes.”
I told the phone, “No, Wolfe can't think of anything you'd be likely to know.
But if you mean Miss Helen Frost, I just saw her here in a chair.”
“Oh. She's there. Some day I'm going to break your neck. I want her up here right away, at her home-no, wait. Keep her. I'll send a man-”
“Don't bother. I'll bring her.”
