Champagne for One

I killed a yawn. "Certainly not. It’s perfect. I don’t say she mightn’t have committed suicide, I only say she didn’t. As you know, I have good eyes, and she was only twenty feet from me. When she took the champagne from Grantham with her right hand her left hand was on her lap, and she didn’t lift it. She took the glass by the stem, and when Grantham raised his glass and said something she raised hers a little higher than her mouth and then lowered it and drank. Are you by any chance hiding an ace? Does Grantham say that when he handed her the glass she dropped something in it before she took hold of it?"

"No. He only says she might have put something in it before she drank; he doesn’t know."

"Well, I do. She didn’t."

"Yeah. You signed your statement." He pointed the cigar at me.

"Look, Goodwin. You admit there are no holes in the set-up for suicide; how about the set-up for murder? The bag was there on the chair in full view. Did someone walk over and pick it up and open it and take out the bottle and unscrew the cap and shake out a lump and screw the cap back on and put the bottle back in the bag and drop it on the chair and walk away? That must have taken nerve."

"Nuts. You’re stacking the deck. All someone had to do was get the bag-of course I started watching it-and take it to a room that could be locked on the inside-there was one handy-and get a lump and conceal it in his or her handkerchief-thank you for suggesting the handkerchief-and return the bag to the chair. That would take care, but no great nerve, since if he had any reason to think he had been seen taking the bag or returning it he wouldn’t use the lump. He might or might not have a chance to use it, anyway." A yawn got me.