A Right to Die

counts. If someone else killed her, people will forget about Dunbar Whipple. Even my mother will forget about him- not really forget, I suppose, but it will be different. So we want-I want to know why you say Whipple is innocent.'

His wife had been trying to get a word in. She blurted it at him. 'You're crazy, Kenneth! Susan would not have married a black man!'

'Oh, skip it, Dolly,' he told her. 'You know what you said just a month-'

'I was just talking!'

'Well, you said it.' To Wolfe: 'So I want to know. I not only want to know, I want to help. I know you get big fees, and I don't suppose Whipple or his father is very flush. If you'll tell me how it stands, I want to help.'

Wolfe shook his head. 'Possibly you can help but not with money. As for how it stands, it doesn't; it impends. I won't disclose the ground for my conclusion that Mr. Whipple is innocent, but it includes no inkling of the identity of the murderer. You might help with that; you were all close to her. If it was neither Mr. Whipple nor a hoodlum, who was it? Who is better off because she is dead? In mind or body or purse. That's always the question. Don't just shake your heads; consider it. Whose life is easier because hers is ended?'

'Nobody's,' Brooke said.

'Pfui. Someone killed her, and someone who knew of that apartment. If you want to help me find him, search your memories. I have no memories; I start empty, and I'll start now. Mr. Brooke, where were you that evening between eight and nine o'clock?'

Brooke just stared at him.

'I'm quite serious,' Wolfe said. 'Sororicide is by no means unheard of. Where were you?'

'Good God,' Brooke said, still staring.

'You're shocked. So would you be if you killed her. Where were you?'

'I was at my laboratory.'

'From eight to nine?'

'From seven till nearly midnight. I was there when my wife phoned me about Susan.'

'Were you alone?'

'No. Three others were there.'

'Then the shock was bearable.' Wolfe's head went right. 'Mr. Vaughn?'

His bony jaw was set. 'I resent this,' he said.

'Of course you do. Anybody would. Where were you?'

'At my club. Harvard. Eating dinner and then watching a bridge game.'

'From eight to nine?'

'Yes. And before and after.'

'Then your resentment is also bearable. Mrs. Brooke?'

'I resent it too.' Her face was showing color. 'It's ridiculous.'

'But not impertinent, if you want to help. Where were you?'

'I was at home. All evening.'

'Alone?'

'No. My son was there.'

'How old is your son?'

'Eight.'

'Anyone else? A servant?'

'No. The maid was out.' She moved abruptly and was on her feet. Her bag dropped to the floor, and Vaughn bent over to get it. 'This is insulting,' she said. 'I'm surprised that you tolerate it, Kenneth. If he won't tell us anything, I'm sorry I suggested coming. Take me home.' She moved.

Brooke's eyes went to Wolfe, to me, and to Vaughn. Apparently they were inviting a suggestion but got none. His wife had stepped to the door. Rising, he told Wolfe, 'I'm in the phone book, both my laboratory and my home. When I said I want to help I meant it. Come on, Peter.'

Vaughn thought he was going to say something but vetoed it, and because of his hesitation I reached the hall ahead of them. Mrs. Brooke was at the rack, getting her coat, and I went and offered a hand. She ignored it, gave me a withering look, stood until the men approached, and said, 'Hold my coat, Kenneth.' I opened the door wide, quick, to let the cold air hit her before she got it on. As they went out and I shut the door I decided to see the eight-year-old son in the near future and ask him what time he had gone to bed on Monday, March 2. No woman can throw a pie at me and keep my good will.

I went to the office and told Wolfe, 'Okay, Dolly Brooke killed her because she was going to marry a quote mgger unquote, and how do we prove it?'

He frowned. 'I have told you not to use that word in my hearing.'

'I was merely quoting. It isn't-'

'Shut up. I mean the word 'unquote' and you know it.'