Might as Well Be Dead

“Of course. Why wouldn’t it? Actually, though, it was I who suggested asking Selma Molloy. While Tom was at the phone I told him to tell her to ask Selma because I could trust him with her. It was partly a joke, but I’m one of those jealous wives. Then he wanted to ask some more questions, I mean that man Keems, but by that time my wrap was ready and we had told him all we knew. That was all there was to it.”

“Did your husband tell him that you had suggested asking Mrs. Molloy?”

“Yes, I’m pretty sure-Didn’t you, Tom?”

“Yes.”

“And you went to the party? How late did you stay?”

“Not late at all. It was a bore, and my husband was tired. We got home around eleven and went to bed. We sleep in the same room.”

Wolfe started to make a face, realized he was doing it, and called it off. The idea of sleeping in the same room with anybody on earth, man or woman, was too much. “Then,” he asked, “you had only that one brief talk with Mr. Keems? You didn’t see him again?”

“No. How could we?”

“Did you see him again, Mr. Irwin?”

“No.”

“Can you add anything to your wife’s account of your talk with him?”

“No. That was all there was to it. I might add that our maid sleeps in, and she was there that night.”

“Thank you. That should be helpful. I’ll include it in my report to the police.” Wolfe went back to the wife. “One Little point, Mrs. Irwin. If you decided earlier in the day that you wouldn’t be able to go to the theater that evening, you might have mentioned it to someone, for instance to some friend on the phone, and you might also have mentioned, partly as a joke, that you would suggest that Mrs. Molloy be asked in your place. Did anything like that happen?”

She shook her head. “No, it couldn’t have, because I didn’t decide not to go until just before my husband came home.”

“Then your headache was a sudden attack?”

“I don’t know what you would call sudden. I was lying down with it most of the afternoon, and taking emagrin, and I was hoping it would go away. But I had to give up.”

“Do you have frequent headaches?”

Irwin burst out, “What the hell has that got to do with it?”

“Probably nothing,” Wolfe conceded. “I’m fishing white water, Mr. Irwin, and am casting at random.”