Death of a Doxy (Crime Line)

"I still find it hard to believe. Did she never speak of her sister?"

"Yes. Speak of her, yes, but casually and rarely."

"You didn't know that her sister strongly disapproved of her association with you?"

"No. I don't know it now."

"She did and does. Did Miss Kerr ever mention this name: Julie Jaquette?"

"I don't think so. If she did it was only casual and I don't remember it."

"Remarkable. You were with her, close, frequently, for a period of three years. I wanted and expected names, and you have supplied three: Jack London, Robert Service, and Rudyard Kipling." Wolfe pushed his chair back. "A question: why did you want to know when Mr. Cather first learned your name?"

"Oh… I was curious."

"You said it may not be important now. When would it have been important, and why?"

"I meant important to me, not to you, not for what you are trying to do. What are you going to do? You say I can't hire you or pay you, but why not? There's no conflict between Cather's interest and mine, as you tell it. Ten thousand now as a retainer? Twenty thousand?"

"No." Wolfe rose. "I'm committed." He walked out.

Chapter 8

At a quarter past nine we were back in the office and Fritz had taken the coffee things out; so, though I didn't know it yet, the stage was set for one of the most impressive floor shows the old brownstone has ever seen. After letting Ballou out I had gone to the kitchen and told Wolfe about Saul's phone call. Of course he would have enjoyed the onion soup and Kentucky burgoo more if I had waited, but it would have created an atmosphere if I had sprung it on him with the coffee. The question was which could stand it best, appetite or digestion, and it takes a lot to make a serious dent in his appetite.

It is true that digestion was getting it too. He had drunk more coffee than usual, emptying the pot, and now that it was gone, and I was there – I'm usually out on Tuesday evenings – he was making a stab at continuing the dinner conversation, which had been mostly about Viet Nam, but just then he wasn't really interested in Viet Nam. He was going to tackle not only a woman, which was bad enough, but also a night-club singer, which was preposterous. A hell of a way to spend an evening. When the doorbell rang he glared at me, though he should have saved it for Saul, and I told him so as I got up to go.