Death of a Doxy (Crime Line)

Saul didn't hesitate. "Ten to one." He got his wallet from a pocket and took bills out. "A hundred to ten."

"She may not have it. Will you -"

"I always have it." She opened her bag, which she had put on my desk after picking it up from the floor, where she had dropped it while performing. "But who settles it?"

"The District Attorney," Saul said. "A hundred to ten that he isn't even tried. All right for Archie Goodwin to hold it?"

"No. Nero Wolfe." She got up and handed Wolfe a bill, and Saul went with his. Wolfe checked Saul's, five twenties, opened a drawer, and dropped them in. She went back to my chair, put her bag on my desk, and told Wolfe, "Now tell me why I have just lost ten bucks."

He shook his head. "That must await the event. I merely wished to demonstrate that we are acting on a conclusion, not a conjecture. Do you have animus for Mr. Cather?"

"What's animus?"

"Hostility. Hatred."

"Of course not. I don't hate anybody."

"If he didn't kill Miss Kerr, are you willing to lose that ten dollars?"

"Why not? It's a bet."

"Then if someone else killed her you would rather have him justly punished than Mr. Cather wrongfully punished?"

"Certainly."

"Again, good. You and Miss Kerr were close friends. Except for the name of the man who was paying her bills, she confided in you. What kind of woman was she? That question is not at random; I need to know. What was she like?"

"She was a duck. She was a damn fine woman until she flapped about that square. She knew the game and she knew the score. She always had her dignity, all the way. She had a good big heart, but she never let it bleed. I'd rather not have any heart than have it bleeding around everywhere. One reason we were so close was that we both knew exactly what men are for and what they're not for – until that Cather baboon popped up."

"You know him?"

"No. I've never seen him and I don't want to."

Wolfe looked at the clock. "You must be back at a quarter past ten?"

"At ten past ten. I have to change."

"Then we haven't much time. I ask you to accept a hypothesis. Suppose you knew positively, no matter how, that he did not kill her. Then who did? Whom would you suspect?"

"That's easy. The lobster, of course."

"What? Lobster?"

"Excuse me. The man who was keeping her."

"You don't even know his name."

"So what? He was shelling out around twenty grand a year. Maybe it was stripping him. Maybe he was hooking it. He found out about that Cather, and he killed her. That's ABC."