Plot It Yourself

“It might. You were living there in June 1957, when Alice Porter claims she sent you the story. That would be a suitable place for the story to be found. Did you and Mr Imhof’s secretary search that apartment?”

“No,” Her eyes had widened. “Of course. Good heavens! Of course I’ll do it right away.”

“But you can’t guard against the future.” Wolfe wiggled a finger. “I offer a suggestion. Arrange immediately to have that apartment and the one you now occupy searched throughout by two reliable persons, preferably a man and a woman, who have no connection with you or the Victory Press. You should not be present. Tell them that they must be so thorough that when they are through they must be prepared to testify under oath that no such manuscript was on the premises-unless, of course, they find it. If you don’t know how to go about getting someone for the job, Mr Imholf will, or his attorney-or I could. Will you do that?”

She looked at Imhof. He spoke. “It certainly should be done. Obviously. I should have thought of it myself. Will you get the man and woman?”

“If desired, yes. They should also search any other premises with which Miss Wynn has had close association. You have no agent. Miss Wynn?”

“No.”

“Have you ever had one?”

“No.” Again the little flush. “Knock at My Door is my first novel-my first published one. Before that I had only had a few stories in magazines, and no agent would take me-at least no good one. This has been a big shock, Mr Wolfe-my first book such a big success, and you can imagine I was up riding the clouds, and then all of a sudden this-this awful business.”

Wolfe nodded. “No doubt. Do you own a motor car?”

“Yes. I bought one last month.”

“It must be searched. What else? Do you have a locker at a tennis court?”

“No. Nothing like that.”

“Do you frequently spend the night away from your home? Fairly frequently?”

I expected that to bring a bigger and better flush, but apparently her mind was purer than mine. She shook her head. “Almost never. I’m not a very social creature, Mr Wolfe. I guess I really have no intimate friends. My only close relatives, my father and mother, live in Montana, and I haven’t been there for ten years. You said they should search any premises with which I have had close association, but there aren’t any.”