If Death Ever Slept

I MADE A CRACK, I remember, about Susan’s entrance in the lounge Monday evening, after everyone else was there, as to whether or not she had planned it that way. My own entrance in Wolfe’s office that Friday afternoon, after everyone else was there, was planned that way all right. There were two reasons: first, I didn’t want to have to chat with the first arrivals, whoever they would be, while waiting for the others; and second, I didn’t want to see Orrie being Archie Goodwin as he let them in and escorted them to the office. So at five-forty, leaving the furnishing of the refreshment table to Fritz and Orrie, I left the house and went across the street to the tailor shop, from where there was a good view of our stoop.

The first to show were Lois and Nora Kent and Roger Foote, in a taxi. Nora paid the hackie, which was only fair since she could afford it, and anyway, she probably put it on the expense account. Transportation to and from a conference to discuss whether anyone present is a murderer is probably tax deductible. The next customer was also in a taxi-Corey Brigham, alone. Then came Wyman and Susan in a yellow Jaguar, with him driving. He had to go nearly to Tenth Avenue to find a place to park, and they walked back. Then came a wait. It was 6:10 when a black Rolls-Royce town car rolled to the curb and Jarrell and Trella got out. I hadn’t grown impatient, having myself waited for Trella twenty-five minutes on Tuesday, bound for lunch at Rusterman’s. As soon as they were inside I crossed the street and pushed the button. Archie Goodwin let me in and steered me to the office. He was passable.

He had followed instructions on seating. The bad thing about it was that I had four of them in profile and couldn’t see the others’ faces at all, but we couldn’t very well give the secretary a seat of honor confronting the audience. Of course Jarrell had the red leather chair, and in the front row of yellow chairs were Lois, Trella, Wyman, and Susan. The family. Behind them were Alan Green, Roger Foote, Nora Kent, and Corey Brigham. At least I had Lois right in front of me. She wasn’t as eye-catching from the back as from the front, but it was pleasant.

When Wolfe entered he accepted Jarrell’s offer of a hand, got behind his desk, stood while Jarrell pronounced our names, inclined his head an eighth of an inch, and sat.