Champagne for One

"Thank you." She motioned to a chair. "Sit down. The snow has tried to smother us, but they have to get air and exercise. Are you a newspaperman?"

I told her no and was going to elaborate, but she had the floor. "Mr Byne said your name is Archie Goodwin and you’re a friend of his. According to the newspaper there was an Archie Goodwin at that party at Mrs Robilotti’s. Was that you?"

I was at a disadvantage. With her smooth hair, partly grey, her compact little figure, and her quick brown eyes wide apart, she reminded me of Miss Clark, my high-school geometry teacher out in Ohio, and Miss Clark had always had my number. I had waited until I saw her to decide just what line to take. First I had to decide whether to say it was me or it was I.

"Yes," I said, "that was me. It also said in the paper that I work for a private detective named Nero Wolfe."

"I know it did. Are you here as a detective?"

She certainly liked to come to the point. So had Miss Clark. But I hoped I was man enough not to be afraid of a woman. "The best way to answer that," I told her, "is to explain why I came. You know what happened at that party and you know I was there. The idea seems to be that Faith Usher committed suicide. I have got the impression that the police may settle for that. But on account of what I saw, and what I didn’t see, I doubt it. My personal opinion is that she was murdered, and if she was, I would hate to see whoever did it get away with it. But before I start howling about it in public I want to do a little checking, and I thought the best place to check on Faith Usher herself was here with you."

"I see." She sat straight and her eyes were straight. "Then you’re a knight with a plume?"

"Not at all. I’d feel silly with a plume. My pride is hurt. I’m a professional detective and I try to be a good one, and I believe that someone committed murder right before my eyes, and how do you think I like that?"

"Why do you believe it was murder?"

"As I said, on account of what I saw and what I didn’t see. A question of observation. I would prefer to let it go at that if you don’t mind."

She nodded. "The professional with his secrets. I have them too; I have a medical degree. Did Mrs Robilotti send you here?"

That decision wasn’t hard to make. Grantham House wasn’t dependent on Mrs Robilotti, since it had been provided for by Albert Grantham’s will, and it was ten to one that I knew what Mrs Irwin thought of Mrs Robilotti. So I didn’t hesitate.