“No, darling,” he said quickly. “I didn’t kill your brother. Even Quercy will vouch for that. He knows I was in an airplane over the Atlantic at the time.”
“Do you suspect me?”
“Did you do it?”
“I was on the Atlantic, too. On a boat. I landed at Cherbourg this morning. A policeman was waiting for me at the Georges Cinq.”
“Don’t let anyone tell you these cops aren’t efficient. They sent for me almost as quickly.”
Simon lighted a cigarette and gave his hunch one last retrospective survey, for the duration of a long inhalation. His mind was made up.
He said, “This is on the level. Quercy had me in his office, giving me a solemn warning to keep my nose clean while I’m here. So I just naturally have an unholy desire to make a monkey out of him. I like you. And your brother’s case is the hottest thing on Quercy’s blotter right now. If I could break it and hand him the pieces on a platter, it’d be a magnificent moment. And I’m sure you want the case solved, whoever does it. So will you let me help — if I can?”
Her straightforward dark eyes studied him for many seconds.
She said, “Thank you. I like you, too. But what can you do?”
“I may think of something. First, I’ve got to know everything you can tell me. May I take you to lunch?”