“That will do. What did you say when the police asked if you were in the habit of lunching with Mr. Kirk?”
“It wasn’t a habit. He had left his wife and he-he needed friends.”
“You’re strongly attached to him?”
“Yes.”
“Is he attached to you?”
“No.”
Wolfe grunted. “If this were a hostile examination your answers would be admirable, but for me they’re a little curt. Do you know how your husband spent Monday afternoon?”
“I know how he says he did. He went to Long Island City to look at some equipment and got back too late to go to the office. He went to a bar and had drinks and came home a little before seven, and we went out to a restaurant for dinner.” She made a little gesture. “Mr. Wolfe, I don’t want to be curt. If I thought I knew anything that would help Martin, anything at all, I’d tell you.”
“Then we’ll see what you know. What if I establish that your husband killed Mrs. Kirk?”
She took a moment. “Do you mean if you proved it? If you got him arrested for it?”
Wolfe nodded. “That would probably be necessary to clear Mr. Kirk.”
“Then I would be glad for Martin, but sorry for my husband. No matter who killed Bonny Kirk, I would be sorry for him. She deserved- No, I won’t say that. I believe it, but I won’t say it.”
“Pfui. More people saying what they believe would be a great improvement. Because I often do I am unfit for common intercourse. You were aware of your husband’s intimacy with Mrs. Kirk?”
“Yes.”
“They knew you were?”
“Yes.”
“You were complacent about it?”
“No.” It came out a whisper, and she repeated it. “No.” Her mouth began working, and she clamped her jaw to stop it. “Of course,” she said, “you think I might have killed her. If I had, it would have been on account of Martin, not my husband. She was ruining Martin’s life, making it impossible for him. But she couldn’t ruin my husband’s life because he’s too-well, too shallow.”
She stopped, breathed, and went on, “I wouldn’t have dreamed that I would ever be saying things like this, to anyone, but I said some of them even to the police. Now I would say anything if it would help Martin. I wasn’t complacent about Paul and Bonny; it just didn’t matter, because nothing mattered but Martin. I was an ignorant little fool when I married Paul, I thought I might as well because I had never been in love and I thought I never would be. When they began asking me questions yesterday I decided I wouldn’t try to hide how I feel about Martin, and anyway, I don’t think I could, now. I did before.”
Wolfe looked at the clock. Twenty to one. Thirty-five minutes till lunch. “You say she couldn’t have ruined your husband’s life because he’s too shallow. Do you utterly reject the possibility that he killed her?”
She took a breath. “I don’t- That’s too strong. If he was there with her and she said something or did something… I don’t know.”
“Do you know if he had in his possession some of the personal stationery of James Neville Vance? A letterhead, an envelope?”
Her eyes widened. “What? Jimmy Vance?”
“Yes. That’s relevant because of a circumstance you don’t know about, but Mr. Kirk does. It’s a simple question. Did you ever see a blank unused letterhead or envelope, Mr. Vance’s, in your apartment?”
“No. Not a blank one. One he had written on, yes.”
“You have been in his apartment.”
“Certainly.”
“Do you know where he keeps his stationery?”
“Yes, in a desk in his studio. In a drawer. You say this is relevant?”
“Yes. Mr. Kirk may explain if you ask him. How well do you know Mr. Vance?”
“Why… he owns that house. We see him some socially. There’s a recital in his studio about every month.”
“Did he kill Mrs. Kirk?”
“No. Of course I’ve asked myself that. I’ve asked myself everything. But Jimmy Vance-if you knew him-why would he? Why did you ask about his stationery?”
“Ask Mr. Kirk. I am covering some random points. Did Mrs. Kirk drink vodka?”
“No. If she did I never saw her. She didn’t drink much of anything, but when she did it was always gin and tonic in the summer and Bacardis in the winter.”
“Does your husband drink vodka?”
“Yes. Now, nearly always.”
