Yes, Miss Mardus, I have.
I'm calling to ask… A pause. I understand that inquiries are being made about me. Here in New York and also in Florida. Do you know anything about it?
Yes. They're being made at Mr. Wolfe's direction.
Why does he… Pause. Why?
Where are you speaking from, Miss Mardus?
I'm in a phone booth. I'm on the way to my office. Does that matter?
It might. And even if you're in a booth I'd rather not discuss it on the phone. I shouldn't think you would, either. You went to a lot of trouble and expense to keep the baby strictly private.
What baby?
Now really. It's much too late for that. But if you insist on an answer Mr. Wolfe will be free at eleven o'clock. Here at his office.
A longer pause. I could come at noon.
That will be fine. Speaking for myself, Miss Mardus, I look forward to seeing you.
As I hung up and returned to the corn fritters I was thinking, I certainly do. Long time no find.
When I had finished the second cup of coffee and gone to the office and done the chores, I buzzed the plant rooms on the house phone. If he didn't hear from me, Wolfe would be expecting to see her in the red leather chair when he came down, since he had told me to have her there at eleven o'clock, and he would appreciate knowing he would have an extra hour before he would have to dig in and work. He did. When I told him she had saved him a dime by calling herself and she would arrive at noon, he said, Satisfactory.
I could use the extra hour too. Telling Fritz I was leaving on an errand, I went to Eleventh Street, told Lucy the Washington Square caper had been suspended and I would report at length later, removed the cameras from the baby carriage, took them to Al Posner, and told him to send a bill.
When the doorbell rang at ten minutes past noon said I went to the front, and at long last saw the mother in the flesh, my first impression was what the hell, if Richard Valdon played marbles with this when he had Lucy he was cuckoo. If she had been twenty years older it wouldn't have been stretching it much to call her a hag. But when I went to my desk and sat after steering her to the office and the red leather chair, I stared at her. It was a different face entirely that was turned to Wolfe. It had sugar and spice and everything nice only nice may not be the right word exactly. She merely hadn't bothered to turn it on for the guy who opened the door. Also it wasn't exactly sugar in her voice as she told Wolfe how much she enjoyed being in his house and meeting him. Obviously the I dare you in both her voice and her eyes wasn't rigged; it had been built in, or born in.
Wolfe was leaning back, regarding her. I can return that compliment, madam, he told her. It gratifies me to meet you. I have been seeking you for six weeks.
Seeking me? I'm in the phone book. I'm on the masthead of Distaff. The voice and eyes implied that she would have loved to hear from him.
Wolfe nodded. But I didn't know that. I knew only that you had borne a baby and disposed of it. I had to. You didn't know I had borne a baby. You couldn't have.
I do now. While you were carrying it, the last four months, you were a guest at the home of Mrs. Arthur P. Jordan in Sarasota, Florida. You entered the Sarasota General Hospital on January sixteenth, as Clara Waldron, and the baby was born that night. When you boarded an airplane at Tampa, for New York, on February fifth, still as Clara Waldron, the baby was with you. What did you do with it and where is it now?
It took her a moment to find her voice, but it was the same voice almost. I didn't come here to answer questions, she said. I came to ask some. You've had a man making inquiries about me here in New York and then in Florida. Why?
Wolfe pursed his lips. There's no reason to withhold that, he conceded. He turned. The picture, Archie?
I got one of the prints from a drawer and went and handed it to her. She looked at it, at me, at the print again, and at Wolfe. I've never seen this before. Where did you get it?
There were cameras attached to the baby carriage in Washington Square.
That fazed her. Her mouth opened, hung open a long moment, and closed. She looked at the print again, got its edge between thumbs and forefingers, tore it across, tore again, and put the pieces on the stand at her elbow.
We have more, Wolfe said, if you want one for a memento.
Her mouth opened and closed again, but no sound came.
Altogether, Wolfe said, the cameras took pictures of more than a hundred people, but yours was of special interest because you arrived at the square in a cab, expressly for the purpose of looking at the baby in that particular vehicle, having seen a picture of it, and the nurse, in a newspaper. You said My God, she blurted. That's why she did that. You did it.
I suggested it. You said you didn't come to answer questions, but it will simplify matters if you oblige me. Do you know Mr. Leo Bingham?
You know I do. Since you've made inquiries about me.
Do you know Mr. Julian Haft?
Yes.
And you know Mr. Willis Krug, since you were married to him. All of the pictures taken by the cameras were shown to those three men. Is one of them the father of your baby?
