A Right to Die

your son? With some plausible pretext?'

He was looking doubtful. 'I'm afraid that isn't possible. She knows what I-my attitude. Does Mr. Goodwin have to meet her? And my son?'

'Not necessarily your son. Her, yes. I can't proceed until he has seen her, spoken with her, and if possible danced with her, and reported. This may even settle it. His feeling for attractive young women, his understanding of them, and his talent for gaining their confidence may be all we'll need.' He turned. 'Archie. Have you a suggestion?'

I nodded. 'Sure.' He had asked for it. 'I meet her, feel her out, understand her, get her confidence, bring her here and install her in the south room, and you seduce her and then marry her. As for the difficulties, snags, embar-'

Whipple cut in. 'Mr. Goodwin. You can joke about it, but I can't.'

I met his eyes. 'I wouldn't expect you to, Mr. Whipple. I was merely reacting to Mr. Wolfe's joke about me and attractive young women. But of course I'll have to meet her. He never leaves the house on business. How urgent is it? Have they set a date for the wedding?'

'No.'

'How sure are you they're not already married?'

'I'm quite sure. My son wouldn't do that. He wouldn't dissemble with me-or with his mother.'

'Is his mother with you on this?'

'Yes. Completely.' He turned to Wolfe. 'You said your remark about pride of race was pointless, but you had made the remark. With my wife I suppose it could be called that. Is it pride of race if she wants her son's wife to be a girl, a woman, with whom she can be friends? Real friends? Speaking as an American Negro, as a man, and as an anthropologist, can she expect to get true familial intimacy from a white woman?'

'No,' Wolfe said. 'Nor from a colored woman either if it's her son's wife.' He waved it away. 'However, you're fixed.' He tilted his head to look at the wall clock: forty minutes till dinner. 'Since Mr. Goodwin's suggestion isn't feasible, let's see if we can find one. Tell me all you know about Miss Brooke.'

I got out my notebook.

It took only half an hour, so there were still ten minutes when I returned to the office after escorting Whipple to the front, helping him on with his coat, handing him his hat, and letting him out. Wolfe sat with his current book, closed, in his hands, gazing at it with his lips tight. He had been cheated out of a full hour of reading.

I stood and looked down at him. 'If you expect an apology,' I said, 'you'll have to expect. When you make personal remarks about me with company present, I react.'

His head came up. 'Of course. You always do. I'm in the middle of a chapter.'

'I didn't know that. As for my letting him in and not telling you, there are exceptions to-'

'Bah. You wanted to see if I would recognize him. I didn't until I heard the name. Did you?'

'Since we're being frank, no. Not his face or voice. With me too it was the name.' I went on. It's better to keep going after a lie. 'Anyway, it's a new slant on civil rights. She has a right to marry the man she loves, and look who's trying to stop her. He had a nerve to begin by quoting that speech.'

He grunted. 'I'm obliged.'

'Yeah. We're really going to tackle it?'

'You are.'

'You leave it to me?'

'No. We'll discuss it later.'

'There isn't much to discuss. No matter what we dig up about her, he'll probably-'

There were footsteps in the hall, and Fritz was at the door to announce dinner. Wolfe put the book down, stroked it with his fingertips, and rose.

2

That was Monday, February 24. Forty-two hours later, at one o'clock Wednesday, I had lunch with Susan Brooke at Lily Rowan's penthouse on 63rd Street between Madison and Park.

In the random assortment of facts Whipple had supplied there had been nothing to bite on. She had graduated from Radcliffe four or five years ago, and not long after had come to New York. She was living with her married brother, an electronics engineer, in his Park Avenue apartment, and so was her mother. They were from Wisconsin-Racine, Whipple thought, but wasn't sure. He didn't actually know that she was financially independent; he had assumed it, because for more than two years she had been working for the ROCC as a volunteer, no pay, and she had made cash contributions amounting to $2350. Not office work; she made contacts and arranged fund- raising parties and meetings.

That was about all Whipple knew, except for a couple of dozen useless little details and a few even more useless guesses.