Miss Jones in a blue negligee. She started to say something, but I rudely ignored it.
“Listen,” I said, “There’s no sense in prolonging this. Last night I gave you your pick between Mr. Wolfe and Sergeant Stebbins; now it’s either Mr. Wolfe or Meegan. I should think you’d prefer Mr. Wolfe because he’s the kind of man that understands; you said so yourself. I’ll wait here while you change, but don’t try phoning anybody, because you won’t know where you are until you’ve talked with Mr. Wolfe, and also because their wires are probably tapped. Don’t put on anything red. Mr. Wolfe dislikes red. He likes yellow.”
She stepped to me and had a hand on my arm. “Archie. Where did you see the picture?”
“I’ll tell you on the way down. Let’s go.”
She gave the arm a gentle tug. “You don’t have to wait out here. Come in and sit down.” Another tug, just as gentle. “Come on.”
I patted her fingers, not wishing to be boorish. “Sorry,” I told her, “but I’m afraid of young mares. One kicked me once.”
She turned and disappeared into the apartment, leaving the door standing open.
VI
“DON’T CALL ME MRS. MEEGAN!” Jewel Jones cried.
Wolfe was in as bad a humor as she was. True, she had been hopelessly cornered, with no weapons within reach, but he had been compelled to tell Fritz to postpone lunch until further notice.
“I was only,” he said crustily, “stressing the fact that your identity is not a matter for discussion. Legally you are Mrs. Richard Meegan. That understood, I’ll call you anything you say. Miss Jones?”
“Yes.” She was on the red leather chair, but not in it. Just on its edge, she looked as if she were set to spring up and scoot any second.
“Very well.” Wolfe regarded her. “You realize, madam, that everything you say will be received skeptically. You are a competent liar. Your offhand denial of acquaintance with Mr. Meegan last night was better than competent. Now. When did Mr. Chaffee tell you that your husband was in town looking for you?”
“I didn’t say Mr. Chaffee told me.”
“Someone did. Who and when?”
She was hanging on. “How do you know someone did?”
He wiggled a finger at her. “I beg you, Miss Jones, to realize the pickle you’re in. It is not credible that Mr. Chaffee couldn’t remember the name of the model for that figure in his picture. The police don’t believe it, and they haven’t the advantage of knowing, as I do, that it was you and that you lived in that house for a year, and that you still see Mr. Chaffee occasionally. When your husband came and asked Mr. Chaffee for the name, and Mr. Chaffee pleaded a faulty memory, and your husband rented an apartment there and made it plain that he intended to persevere, it is preposterous to suppose that Mr. Chaffee didn’t tell you. I don’t envy you your tussles with the police after they learn about you.”
“They don’t have to learn about me, do they?”
“Pfui. I’m surprised they haven’t got to you already, though it’s been only eighteen hours. They soon will, even if not through me. I know this is no frolic for you, here with me, but they will almost make it seem so.”
She was thinking. Her brow was wrinkled and her eyes straight at Wolfe. “Do you know,” she asked, “what I think would be the best thing? I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. You’re a detective, you’re an expert at helping people in trouble, and I’m certainly in trouble. I’ll pay you to help me. I could pay you a little now.”
“Not now or ever, Miss Jones.” Wolfe was blunt. “When did Mr. Chaffee tell you that your husband was here looking for you?”
“You won’t even listen to me,” she complained.
“Talk sense and I will. When?”
She edged back on the chair an inch. “You don’t know my husband. He was jealous about me even before we married, and then he was worse. It got so bad I couldn’t stand it, and that was why I left him. I knew if I stayed in Pittsburgh he would find me and kill me, so I came to New York. A friend of mine had come here-I mean, just a friend. I got a job at a modeling agency and made enough to live on, and I met a lot of people. Ross Chaffee was one of them, and he wanted to use me in a picture, and I let him. Of course he paid me, but that wasn’t so important, because soon after that I met Phil Kampf, and he got me a tryout at a night club, and I made it. About then I had a scare, though. A man from Pittsburgh saw me at a theater and came and spoke to me, but I told him he was wrong, that I had never been in Pittsburgh.”
“That was a year ago,” Wolfe muttered.
“Yes. I was a little leery about the night club, in public like that, but months went by and nothing happened, and then all of a sudden this happened. Ross Chaffee phoned me that my husband had come and asked about the picture, and I asked him for God’s sake not to tell him who it was, and he promised he wouldn’t. You see, you don’t know my husband. I knew he was trying to find me so he could kill me.”
“You’ve said that twice. Has he ever killed anybody?”
“I didn’t say anybody; I said me. I seem to have an effect on men.” She gestured for understanding. “They just go for me. And Dick- Well, I know him, that’s all. I left him a year and a half ago, and he’s still looking
