'That's the idea.'
'Then two things. First, I don't think you'll get anything unless you invent it, and I know you wouldn't. I don't think there's anything to get-anything bad enough to count. Second, if there is, I hope you don't get it through anything you heard here. I couldn't blame you, but I would blame me. If she and that Negro want to get married they may be darned fools, of course I think they are, but it's their lookout. So do me a favor. If you stop it, and something you heard here got you started on what stops it, don't tell me. I don't want to know. That's me. You know?'
'Sure.' I looked at my wrist: a quarter to three. 'If I had any personal feelings about it they would be about the same as yours, but I haven't. Rights all over the place. She has a right to marry him. He has a right to marry her. The father and mother have a right to butt in, they've been doing it for ten thousand years. Nero Wolfe has a right to meet an obligation to a man. I have a right to earn my pay by doing what I'm told, providing it doesn't clash with my right to stay out of jail. So I'll run along and drop in at the office of the Parthenon Press, which is only a few blocks from here.'
'There won't be anyone there. Look at that snow. I can beat you at gin. Don't they send people home?'
I looked. 'They might at that. May I use the phone?' She was right. I got an answer, but not from the switchboard girl. Some man told me that everybody had gone. When I hung up Lily called through an open door, 'I'm in here. Come on. I have a right to win enough to pay for the lunch.'
She did, about.
3
That was a new experience. Over the years I have checked on a lot of people-a thousand, two thousand-but always after something specific, anything from an alibi to a motive for murder. With Susan Brooke I was simply checking. Because I am interested in me, I would give two bits to know which I would have preferred, to dig up something that would brand her good, or to find nothing at all worth mentioning. At the time I was just doing a job, and enjoying it carefree because there was nothing at stake for Wolfe or me.
I spent three days, parts of them, and three evenings at it. It didn't take long to cross off the Parthenon Press lead. She hadn't done her reading at the office, and only three people, two editors and a stenographer, had known her. One of the editors hadn't liked her, but I gathered, from a remark by the stenographer, that he had made a pass at her and missed.
The UN lead took longer; it took half a day to find out where she had worked. It would take another half a day for me to write, and you half an hour to read, all the items I collected. According to one source, she had got tight at a farewell luncheon for some Greek. According to another source, she hadn't. She had been so friendly with a Polish girl that she actually took her to the country for a summer weekend. Three times, or maybe four or five, she had been taken to lunch in the delegates' dining room by a Frenchman with a reputation. I followed that one up a little, but it fizzled out. She had once been seen leaving the building with a Moroccan girl, a Hungarian, and a Swede. And so forth and so on. It was very educational. The UN is wonderful for broadening a man's outlook. For instance, Turkish girls have short legs and Indian girls have flat feet.
At ten o'clock Saturday evening I mounted the stoop of the old brownstone, used my key to get in, put my coat and hat on the rack, and went down the hall to the office. Wolfe was behind his desk in the only chair in the world that really suits him, with a book, _William Shakespeare_, by A. L. Rowse. I stood while he finished a paragraph. He looked up.
I spoke. 'You know, I don't think I have ever known you to take so long with a book.'
He put it down. 'I'm reviewing his dating of
'Then let's send it back.' I spun my chair around and sat. 'I took a Moroccan girl to dinner at Rusterman's. On me. She doesn't dance, so I took her home. Today was merely more of the same, not worth reporting. Tomorrow is Sunday. I don't mind this caper, I'm enjoying it, but it's a washout. I suggest that you tell Whipple that if there's something wrong with Miss Brooke it's buried deep.'
He grunted. 'You like her.'
'Not especially. I told you Wednesday evening that my guess was that she is comparatively clean. It still is.'
'How candid are you?'
'So-so. I'm trying.'
'Where is Racine?'
'Between Chicago and Milwaukee. On the lake.'
He pushed his chair back, raised his bulk, walked over to the globe, which was twice as big around as he was, whirled it, and found Wisconsin.
He turned. 'It's closer to Milwaukee. Is there an airplane to Milwaukee?'
'Sure.' I stared. 'The fare would be around eighty bucks, and then thirty bucks a day. Or more. Whipple might object.'
'He will have no occasion.' He returned to his chair and sat. 'Veblen called it instinct of workmanship. Mine was committed when I engaged to serve Mr. Whipple. In your conversation with Miss Rowan and Miss Brooke, which you reported Wednesday evening verbatim, did you note nothing suggestive? Surely not.'
'You could call it suggestive. After she said she got good and bored in Racine she said, 'Then something happened, and-' And she cut. Okay, suggestive. Maybe the roof in the big house started to leak.'
