Death of a Doxy (Crime Line)

Generally speaking, airline stewardesses know how to react. Without a word she picked up her handbag, which had dropped to the floor when she gripped my jacket, moved to the door I was holding, and on through. As I shut the door the doorbell rang again. I broke no records getting to the hall and the front; and if Inspector Cramer noticed the black leather coat on the rack, let him. It was me he wanted to see, since he knew Wolfe was never available until eleven, and one more question to refuse to answer wouldn't matter. I opened the door, said, "Sorry, I was busy yawning," and gave him room. His big round face was redder than usual from the cold. There have been times when he refused help with his coat because he wanted to get his eyes on me and keep them there, but now he let me behind him to take it, and he led the way to the office. He hadn't noticed the black leather coat, but he did notice the yellow chair near my desk, and as he lowered his broad rump onto the red leather one he asked, "Company?"

I nodded. "Come and gone. Have you turned Orrie loose yet?"

"No. Not yet and not soon. Unless you can give me a damn good reason. Can you?"

"Sure. He's clean."

"Go right ahead."

"Parker came here after seeing him yesterday and told us that Orrie had told him he was innocent. We have seen a lot of Orrie and we know he's not a liar. So Mr. Wolfe is going to look into it. Of course that's what you came for, to ask if he's going to horn in. He is."

"I don't have to ask that. I came to get information." He got better arranged in the chair. "When did you see Cather last?"

I shook my head. "No comment."

"Has he ever spoken to you about Isabel Kerr?"

"Pass."

"Has he ever spoken to you about Jill Hardy?"

"No comment."

"You can't get away with it, Goodwin. If a man is charged he can clam up, but you're not charged. But, by God, you can be charged."