Death of a Doxy (Crime Line)

Just like him. He never seems to notice but he knows. I nodded. "Yeah. I had walked for nearly half an hour, to Orrie's address, or near it. I waited around until he came, saw him in his apartment and told him, and returned his keys. I asked him if he killed her, and he said no. He was on a tailing job for Bascom all day but can't prove it. For the important time, eight o'clock to noon, he's wide open. He wanted to know why I didn't stay for a look. I poked him a little, not much, and came home and ate two helpings of creme Genoise. Of course I knew he would be tagged – if nothing else, his prints. That was the urgency on the radio this morning."

"You should have told me."

"What good would it have done? It would only have spoiled the day for you."

"So you went to hear a man read poetry."

I cocked my head. "Look," I said, "you might as well forget me. You're sore and want a target, but I'm not it. Of course, if you forget Orrie too, there is no target and you can go back to your book."

He looked at the book, picked it up, and put it down again. He picked up his glass, frowned at it because the head was gone, drank it anyway, to the bottom, returned the glass to the tray, and pushed the tray aside. "Orrie," he said. "Confound him. The question is, did he kill her? If he did, the problem is Mr. Parker's and can be left to him. If he didn't, we are -"

The phone rang, and I swiveled and got it. "Nero Wolfe's resi -"

"Lon, Archie. I'm surprised you're there."

"Shouldn't I be?"

"Of course not. With your sidekick in the jug?"

"You're ahead of me. I spent the afternoon at a poetry reading and just got here."

"You're saying you didn't know that Orrie Cather has been pulled in on the Isabel Kerr murder?"

"Really?"

"Yep, really. If it would help to have something in print, I'm always available. I don't expect you to show me Wolfe's hole card, but if there's some little item…"

"Sure. Certainly. Of course. The minute I have something hot, or even warm, I'll ring you. Right now I'm busy. I'm telling Mr. Wolfe about a beautiful poem a man read."

"I'll bet you are. Just enough for a paragraph?"

"At the moment, no. Not on Sunday. Thanks for calling."