Over My Dead Body

The swank of the place was more real than apparent. There was nothing shabby about it, but it didn't give you an impression of being dolled up to impress the customers. I trailed around after Carla in her effort to locate Neya, and so got a look. It was one of the old four-storey houses. On the ground floor were a reception-room and a large office and a couple of small ones; one flight up, a long hall with a grey carpet, with doors leading into the private rooms for dancing lessons; two flights, the salle d'armes, with two medium-sized rooms, one big one, and the showers and locker rooms; and at the top, living-quarters for Miltan and his wife. Those I didn't see, then. Neya was finally flushed in the women's locker room. Carla brought her out to where I was waiting in the hall and introduced me, and we shook hands. Neya Tormic said:

"Can you do something about this awful thing, Mr Goodwin? The awful lie that man tells? Can you? You must! I was hoping that Nero Wolfe… my father…"

Her voice had a foreign purr in it, but she pronounced words a little better than Carla. God knows she didn't look anything like Nero Wolfe, but of course a girl that looked like him would be something that you would either pass up entirely or pay a dime to look at in a side show. And then-um-he had adopted her. Her eyes were as black as Carla's and she was about the same height, an inch over medium, but her chin, in fact her whole face, went more to a point, and the whole idea of her, the way she talked and stood and looked at you, was a queer combination of come-hither and don't-touch-me. Having known her father a long while, I suppose I gave her the preliminary once-over with more interest than any other female I had ever met, and my first verdict was that she had real quality both of mind and of matter, but that a definite judgement would have to wait for further analysis. She noticed me taking in her costume, a green robe, belted and carelessly closed in front, showing underneath a white canvas blouse and slacks, with gym shoes and rolled-up socks.

"I was giving a lesson," she said. "Miltan wanted me to. He doesn't want any fuss. Nobody does but that fool Driscoll. A liar like that-we would know how to deal with him in my country. Carla tells me that he-that my father has been told about me, and of course you have too. I do not wish anyone else to know. Why didn't he come?"

"Nero Wolfe? Bad case of pernicious inertia. He never goes anywhere any time for anybody."