“Does Mr. Kirk?”
“No, never. He drinks scotch.”
“Does Mr. Vance?”
“Yes. He got my husband started on it. The police asked me all this.”
“Naturally. Do you drink vodka?”
“No. I drink sherry.” She shook her head. “I don’t understand-maybe you’ll tell me. All the questions the police asked me-they seem to be sure it was one of us, Martin or Paul or Jimmy Vance or me. Now you too. But it could have been some other man that Bonny… or someone, a burglar or something-couldn’t it?”
“Not impossible,” Wolfe conceded, “but more than doubtful. Because of the circumstance that prompted my question about Mr. Vance’s stationery, and now this question: What kind of a housekeeper are you? Do you concern yourself with the condition of your husband’s clothing?”
She nearly smiled. “You ask the strangest questions. Yes, I do. Even though we’re not- Yes, I sew on buttons.”
“Then you know what he has, or had. Have you ever seen among his things a cream-colored necktie with diagonal brown stripes, narrow stripes?”
She frowned. “That’s Jimmy Vance again, those are his colors. He has a tie like that, more than one probably.”
“He had nine. Again a simple question. Have you ever seen one of them in your husband’s possession? Not necessarily in his hands or on his person; say in one of his drawers?”
“No. Mr. Wolfe, this circumstance-what is it? You say Martin knows about it, but I’m answering your questions, and I-”
The phone rang. I swiveled and got it, used my formula, and the client’s voice came. “This is Martin Kirk. Tell Mr. Wolfe the tie’s not here. It’s gone.”
“Of course you made sure.”
“Yes. Positive.”
“Hold the wire.” I turned. “Kirk. The article isn’t there.”
He nodded. “As expected.”
“Any instructions?”
He pursed his lips, and Rita, on her feet, beat him to it. Asking, “May I speak to him?” she came with her hand out for the phone. Wolfe nodded. I pointed to the phone on his desk and told her to use that one, and she went and got it. I stayed on.
“Martin?”
“Yes. Rita?”
“Yes. Where are you?”
“In my room at the hotel. You’re still there?”
“Yes. What are you going to do? Are you going to your office?”
“Good Lord no. I’m going to see Jimmy Vance. Then I’m going to see Nero Wolfe again. Someone has-”
I cut in. “Hold it. I’ve told Mr. Wolfe and he’ll have instructions. Hold the wire.” I turned. “He says he’s going to see Vance. Shall I tell him to lay off or will you?”
“Neither. He’s had no sleep and not much to eat. Tell him to come this evening, say nine o’clock, if he’s awake, and report on his talk with Mr. Vance.”
“You tell him,” I said and hung up. Being a salaried employee, I should of course keep my place in the presence of company, and that’s exactly what I was doing, keeping my place. I had had enough and then some, and Wolfe’s glare, which of course came automatically, was wasted because my head was turned and he had my profile, including the set of my jaw. When Rita was through with the phone he took it, spoke briefly with his client, cradled it, and looked at the clock. Six minutes to lunch.
“Do you want me any more?” she asked him. “I’d like to go.”
“Later perhaps,” he said. “If you’ll phone a little after six?”
I got up and spoke. “If you don’t mind, Mrs. Fougere.” I crossed to the door to the front room and opened it. “If you’ll wait in here just a few minutes?”
She looked at Wolfe, saw that he had no comment, and came. When she had crossed the sill I closed the door, which is as soundproof as the wall, went to Wolfe’s desk, and said, “If it blows up in your face you’re not going to blame it on me. I merely called your attention a couple of times to the fact that a fee would be welcome. I didn’t say it was desperate, that you should grab a measly grand from a character who is probably going to be tagged for the big one. And now when he says he is going to see Vance, to handle the tie question on his own-and the tie was sent to me, not you-you not only don’t veto it, you don’t even tell me to go and sit in. Also she’s going there too, that’s obvious, and you merely tell her to phone you later. I admit you’re a genius, but when you took his check you couldn’t possibly have had the faintest idea whether he was guilty or not, and even now you don’t know the score. They may have him absolutely wrapped up. The tie was mailed to me and I gave it to Cramer, and I’m asking, not respectfully.”
He nodded. “Well said. A good speech.”
“Thank you. And?”
