Death of a Doxy (Crime Line)

There are a lot of interesting things to do while you're waiting in an upper hall of an apartment house for four hours and twenty minutes. You can count spots and decide which has more, the left wall or the right wall. You can try to sort out smells and decide how many different flavors there are in the overall effect. You can listen to the wails coming through the door of 7B and decide whether the little lamb is male or female and how old it is, and what steps you would take if you were inside. When people arrive or leave you can look straight at them and notice which ones look back and which ones pretend they haven't seen you. When a hefty, broad-shouldered woman turns after inserting a key into the lock of 7C and asks, "Are you waiting for someone?" you can say pleasantly and distinctly, "Yes," and see how she reacts. On the whole, it was time well spent. My one regret was that I hadn't brought along a chocolate bar, five or six bananas, and a quart of milk.

I admit I frequently glanced at my watch. It was ten minutes to five when the elevator door opened and a man emerged. When he kept coming down the hall I assumed he was headed for E or F, but he stopped to face me and spoke.

"I understand you're waiting for my wife."

Of course I had to concede it. "Yes, sir, I am, if you're Barry Fleming."

"She won't see you. You're wasting your time. She won't see anybody."

I nodded. "I know, but I think she'll see me if she lets me explain why."

I sent a hand to my pocket for the case, but before I had a card out he said, "I know who you are. I should say, I have seen the card you gave the elevator man. Are you Archie Goodwin?"

"I am. In person. Look, Mr. Fleming, why not leave it to her? When she comes I'll tell her what I want to talk about, and it will be up to her. I won't insist, I'll just ask her."

"What do you want to talk about?"

I would have preferred to tell her, but a husband is a husband. "About a man," I said. "His name is Orrie Cather, and the police think he killed Isabel Kerr. He has worked off and on for Nero Wolfe, and Mr. Wolfe and I know him very well, and we don't think he did. You know I work for Nero Wolfe?"

"Of course."

"We are looking into it a little, and I would like very much to ask your wife if she can supply any information that might help. Naturally she wants the murderer of her sister caught and punished, but she wouldn't want it to be Orrie Cather if he's innocent. You wouldn't, would you?"