Death of a Doxy (Crime Line)

It was a tough decision, and it took Wolfe a good five minutes to make it. What about lunch? It was ten minutes past twelve when I hung up after giving Stella Fleming the address. Would she leave immediately, and how long would it take her? Lunch-time has been, is, and will be a quarter past one. An impossible situation. He sat and scowled at it for five or six minutes, made his decision, and got up and went to the kitchen. I followed him, since I eat too. Julie had no problem, since her hedgehog omelet and broiled sausage were about ready. The crisis was licked good. Julie ate at my breakfast table, and Wolfe and I made out on stools at the big table, with sturgeon, smoked pheasant, celery, three kinds of cheese, and spiced brandied cherries. Since it was a snack, not a meal, the taboo on business didn't apply, and we discussed the program. I thought Wolfe should be present, and he thought he shouldn't, and we let Julie decide it, and she voted with him. In the alcove at the kitchen end of the hall there is a hole in the wall with a sliding panel, and on the office side the hole is covered with a trick picture of a waterfall which you can see through from the alcove side. Wolfe would be there on a stool. We were unanimous on the other main point, that I should lead the attack.

When she came, at twenty minutes past one, I started the attack in the hall. A chair and a bench are there, across from the rack, very handy, but she didn't put her handbag down when I was taking her coat, and I didn't like the way she was clutching it. Also I was still touchy about the bullets that had missed Julie through no fault of mine. So when, turning, she shifted the bag from her right hand to her left, I grabbed it. She tried to grab it back, but I stiff-armed her, perhaps a little rough, sidestepped, and opened the bag. She squeaked and came at me, and I pushed her again and got a hand in the bag, and it came out with something in it. She backed off and stood and panted, so I was able to look. It was a twenty-two Bristol automatic with a fancy carved butt, and it was loaded. I stuck it in my side pocket and held the bag out. "Sorry if I was rude," I said. "We had an event here once, and I frisk everybody."