“It would help,” I conceded. “And of course it would split it wide open. It would be a beautiful out, not only for Pompa, but for everybody. Two are much better than one, and three would be simply splendid. Do you suppose there’s any chance that your mother remembers about the open door too?”
Her eyes left mine, and she covered up fairly well by reaching for the milk bottle and pouring herself a third of a glass. I didn’t mark it against her, for she was too young to be expected to meet any and all contingencies.
“I sure was hungry and thirsty,” she said, retrieving. “I don’t know about Mother. I didn’t ask her about it because she was completely all in. But when I tell her I saw it, and she puts her mind on it, I’m practically certain she’ll remember about the door being open. She’s very observant and she has a good memory. I don’t think there’s any question about her remembering it. That would clear up everything, wouldn’t it?”
“It would at least scatter the clouds all over the sky,” I conceded. “What would be even sweeter would be if the first couple of times you ventured forth you noticed the door was open, and the last time you saw it had been closed. That would be really jolly. You probably have a good memory too, so why don’t you try it on that?”
386
But she wasn’t having any fancy touches from comparative strangers. Nope, she remembered it quite clearly, the door had been open all the time. Furthermore, she remembered going to close it herself, when her mother and brother and Dan Bahr had gone upstairs to get Floyd Whitten. I didn’t think it would be polite to urge her, and while we were cleaning up and putting things back in the refrigerator I told her that it was darned white of her to come out with it like that, and this was a real break for Pompa, and 1 would give Wolfe the good news just as soon as he was awake. We went back up the two Bights together, and in the upper hall I took her offered hand and got a fine firm clasp and a friendly smile. Then I went back to bed and was sound asleep before I knew it.
My eyes opened again without any order from me. Naturally that was irritating, and I wondered why I couldn’t sleep. Seeing it was broad daylight, I glanced at my wrist. It was a quarter past nine. I jumped out and leaped for the bathroom, set a record dressing, ran down to the kitchen, and asked Fritz if Wolfe was awake. Yes, he had breakfasted at eight-fifteen as usual and was up in the plant rooms. There had just been word from the South Room, on the house phone, from the guests, and Fritz was getting their trays ready. On account of my snack at dawn I wasn’t starving, so I had my orange juice and some toast and coffee, and then went, three steps at a time, up to the roof.
Wolfe was in the intermediate room inspecting some two year Miltonia roezelis. The brief glance he gave me was as sour as expected, since he hates being interrupted up there.
I apologized without groveling. “I’m sorry I overslept, but it was Phoebe’s fault. She has a nerve. She came to my room, and damned if she didn’t complain about my wrinkled pajamas.”
He dehydrated me with a look. “If true, boorish. If false, inane.”
“Just adjectives. She came because she was hungry, and I took her down and fed her. But what she really wanted was to peddle a lie. Would you care to buy a good lie? It’s a beaut.”
“Describe it.”
“She offers to trade an out for Pompa for an out for the dining-room gang. During that crucial half-hour, each time she sallied to the reception hall she noticed that the front door was part way open. Mama will corroborate. But Pompa will have to say that when he started to beat it he got as far as the front door and had opened it when Mom caught up with him, and neither of them closed it before they went into the living room. Which is that, boorish or inane?”
Wolfe finished inspecting a plant, returned it to the bench, and turned to inspect me. He seemed to have a notion there was something wrong with my necktie, as there may well have been since I had set a record.
OMIT FLOWERS 387
“What inspired you to use Miss Alving’s name to get in to Mrs. Whitten?” he demanded.
“Hell, I had to use something. Knowing how women are apt to feel about their husbands’ former sweethearts, I thought that was as good as anything and probably better.”
“Was that all?”
‘Tep. Why, did I spill salt?”
“No. On the contrary. Do you know where Miss Alving can be found?”
I nodded. “She’s the toy buyer at Meadow’s. But you certainly have changed the subject. What about that Grade A lie, do we want it at the price? Phoebe will be after me as soon as she gets through breakfast.”
“We’ll see. That can wait. How do you know it’s a lie? Come in the potting room where we can sit down. I have some instructions.”
DC
NEVER to find yourself in a situation where you have to enter a big depart ment store is one of the minor reasons for not getting married. I guess it would also he a reason for not being a detective. Anyway, Meadow’s is unquestionably a big department store, and that Thursday morning I had to enter it in the practice of my profession. The toy department is on the fourth floor, I suppose to give the kids more fun on the escalators. By the time I got there the sweat on my back was starting to freeze in the conditioned air, and I had to resist an impulse to go up another flight and buy a topcoat.
The salesperson I approached said she thought Miss Alving was busy and would I wait. I found an empty chair over by the scooters. I thought contact with the chair’s back might melt the ice on mine, but it was plastic, <;o I sat straight. After a while a woman came hurrying to me, and I siro^e. "Miss Julie Alving?" "Yes, I'm Miss Alving." When Marko had told us about Floyd Whitten's former love whom he had ditched when he married the boss, I had made a casual mental comment that there was something droll about a man living in sin with a toy buyer, but one look at Julie Alving showed me that such casual comments can be silly. She was forty and looked it, and she was not an eyestopper in any obvious way, but everything about her, the way she walked, the way she stood, her eyes and mouth and whole face, seemed to be saying, without trying or intending to, that if you had happened to be hers, and she yours, life would be full of pleasant and interesting surprises. It wasn't anything personal, it was just her. 1 was so impressed, in spite of her age, that I was smiling at her before I knew it. 388 I spoke. "My name's Archie Goodwin, Miss Alving, and I work for Nero Wolfe. You may have heard of him? The detective?" "Yes, I've heard of him." Her voice was a little thin. "He would like to see you. He would appreciate it very much if you can get away for an hour and come to his office with me. He has something to say to you on behalf of Mrs. Floyd Whitten." I thought for a second she was going to topple. The way her head jerked up and then came down again as all her muscles sagged, it was as if I had landed an uppercut. My hand even started to reach, to be there if the muscles really quit, but she stayed upright. "Mrs.-Mrs. Whitten?" she stammered. I nodded. "You used to know her husband. Here, sit down." She ignored that. "What does she want?" "I don't know, but Mr. Wolfe does. She came to see him last night and they talked. He said to tell you it's important and urgent, and he has to see you this morning." "But I—I'm here at work." "Yeah, I know. I work too and know how it is. I told him you might not be able to make it until after the store closes, hut he said that wouldn't do." "What did Mrs. Whitten talk to him about?" I shook my head. "You'll have to ask him." She got her teeth on her lower lip, kept them there a while, said, '"Wait here, please," and left me. She passed behind a counter and disappeared through a partition opening. I sat down. When my watch showed me that I had waited twenty-two minutes I began to wonder if I was being imposed on, but no, she returned.