Black Orchids

"Because I needed her. She's the best assistant I've ever had. Her ideas are simply… take the Stryker dwarf and giant party… that was her idea… this is confidential… some of my biggest successes…"

"I see. How long has she worked for you?"

"Three years."

"Do you pay her adequately?"

"Yes. I didn't, but I do now. Ten thousand a year."

"Then why does she want to ruin you? Just cussedness? Or has she got it in for you?"

"She has-she thinks she has a grievance."

"What about?"

"Something…" Bess Huddleston shook her head. "That's of no importance. A private matter. It wouldn't help you any. I am willing to pay your bill for finding out who sent those letters and getting proof."

"You mean you will pay me for fastening the guilt on Miss Nichols."

"Not at all. On whoever did it."

"No matter who it is?"

"Certainly."

"But you're sure it's Miss Nichols."

"I am not sure. I said I have a feeling." Bess Huddleston stood up and picked up her handbag from Wolfe's desk. "I have to go. Can you come up to my place tonight?"

"No. Mr.-"

"When can you come?"

"I can't. Mr. Goodwin can go-" Wolfe stopped himself. "No. Since you have already discussed it with all of those people, I'd like to see them. First the young women. Send them down here. I'll be free at six o'clock. This is a nasty job and I want to get it over with."

"My God," Bess Huddleston said, her eyes snapping at him, "you would have made a wonderful party! If I could sell it to the Crowthers I could make it four thousand- only there won't be many more parties for me if we don't get these letters stopped. I'll phone the girls-“

"Here's a phone," I said.

She made the call, gave instructions to one she called Maryella, and departed in a rush.

When I returned to the office after seeing the visitor to the door, Wolfe was out of his chair. There was nothing alarming about that, since it was one minute to four and therefore time for him to go up to the orchids, but what froze me in my tracks was the sight of him stooping over, actually bending nearly double, with his hand in my waste-basket.

He straightened up.

"Did you hurt yourself?" I inquired anxiously.

Ignoring that, he moved nearer the window to inspect an object he held between his thumb and forefinger. I stepped over and he handed it to me and I took a squint at it. It was a snapshot of a girl's face, nothing special to my taste, trimmed off so it was six-sided in shape and about the size of a half dollar.

"Want it for your album?" I asked him.