“And if they had dug up a motive they would have been stuck with it, because I certainly didn’t kill her the evening of July fifteenth. That was a Thursday, and at five o’clock that afternoon I was taking my boat through the Harlem River and into the sound, and at ten o’clock that night I was asleep on her at an anchorage near New Haven. My friend Ralph Ingalls was with me, and his wife, and Miss Helen Weltz. Of course the police have checked it, but maybe you don’t like the way they check alibis. You’re welcome to check it yourself if you care to. Any questions?”
“One or two.” Wolfe shifted his fanny on the board slats. “What is your occupation?”
“For God’s sake. You haven’t even read the papers.”
“Yes, I have, but that was weeks ago, and as I remember it they were vague. ‘Broker,’ I believe. Stockbroker?”
“No, I’m a freewheeler. I’ll handle almost anything.”
“Have you an office?”
“I don’t need one.”
“Have you handled any transactions for anyone connected with that business, Bagby Answers, Incorporated? Any kind of transaction?”
Unger cocked his head. “Now that’s a funny question. Why do you ask that?”
“Because I suspect the answer is yes.”
“Why? Just for curiosity.”
“Now, Mr. Unger.” Wolfe turned a palm up. “Since apparently you had heard of me, you may know that I dislike riding in cars, even when Mr. Goodwin is driving. Do you suppose I would have made this excursion completely at random? If you find the question embarrassing, don’t answer it.”
“It’s not embarrassing.” Unger turned to the table, poured an inch of bourbon in his glass, added two inches of water from a pitcher, gave it a couple of swirls, took a sip, and another one, and finally put the glass down and turned back to Wolfe.
“I’ll tell you,” he said in a new tone. “This whole business is pretty damn silly. I think you’ve got hold of some crazy idea somewhere, God knows what, and I want to speak with you privately.” He arose. “Let’s take a little walk.”
Wolfe shook his head. “I don’t like conversing on my feet. If you want to say something without a witness, Miss Weltz and Mr. Goodwin can leave us. Archie?”
I stood up. Helen Weltz looked up at Unger, and at me, and then slowly lifted herself from her chair.
“Let’s go and pick flowers,” I suggested. “Mr. Unger will want me in sight and out of hearing.”
She moved. We picked our way through the windfalls of the apple tree, and of two more trees, and went on into a meadow where the grass and other stuff was up to our knees. She was in the lead. “Goldenrod I know,” I told her back, “but what are the blue ones?”
No answer. In another hundred yards I tried again. “This is far enough unless he uses a megaphone.”
She kept going. “Last call!” I told her. “I admit he would be a maniac to jump Mr. Wolfe under the circumstances, but maybe he is one. I learned long ago that with people involved in a murder case nothing is impossible.”
She wheeled on me. “He’s not involved in a murder case!”
“He will be before Mr. Wolfe gets through with him.”
She plumped down in the grass, crossed her legs, buried her face in her hands, and started to shake. I stood and looked down at her, expecting the appropriate sound effect, but it didn’t come. She just went on shaking, which wasn’t wholesome. After half a minute of it I squatted in front of her, made contact by taking a firm grip on her bare ankle, and spoke with authority.
“That’s no way to do it. Open a valve and let it out. Stretch out and kick and scream. If Unger thinks it’s me and flies to the rescue that will give me an excuse to plug him.”
She mumbled something. Her hands muffled it, but it sounded like “God help me.” The shakes turned into shivers and were tapering off. When she spoke again it came through much better. “You’re hurting me,” she said, and I loosened my grip on her ankle and in a moment took my hand away, when her hands dropped and she lifted her head.
Her face was flushed, but her eyes were dry. “My God,” she said, “it would be wonderful if you put your arms around me tight and told me, ‘All right, my darling, I’ll take care of everything, just leave it to me.’ Oh, that would be wonderful!”
“I may try it,” I offered, “if you’ll brief me on what I’d have to take care of. The arms around you tight are no problem. Then what?”
She skipped over it. “God,” she said bitterly, “am I a fool! You saw my car. My Jaguar.”
“Yeah, I saw it. Very fine.”
“I’m going to burn it. How do you set fire to a car?”
“Pour gasoline on it, all over inside, toss a match in, and jump back fast. Be careful what you tell the insurance company or you’ll end up in the can.”
She skipped again. “It wasn’t only the car, it was other things too. I had to have them. Why didn’t I get me a man? I could have had a dozen, but no, not me. I was going to do it all myself. It was going to be
