“I thought so. Don’t you?”
“It doesn’t matter what I think.”
“By which you tell me what you think.”
“No, you don’t! But if you must know... You never get to the bottom of Delia. She doesn’t lie, but she doesn’t tell the truth, either ― I mean the whole truth. She always keeps something in reserve that you dig out much, much later, if you’re lucky to dig it out at all. Now I’m not going to say anything more about Delia, because whatever I say you’ll hold, not against her, but against me. Delia bowls over big shots especially... I suppose it’s no use asking you what she wanted to talk to you alone about?”
“Take ― it ― easy,” said Ellery, holding his hat. “Another bounce like that and my knees will stab me to death.”
“Nice try, Laurel,” said Laurel; and she darted into the Free-way-bound traffic on North Highland with a savage flip of her exhaust.
After a while Ellery remarked to Laurel’s profile: “You said something about Roger Priam’s ‘never’ leaving his wheelchair. You didn’t mean that literally, by any chance?”
“Yes. Not ever. Didn’t Delia tell you about the chair?”
“No.”
“It’s fabulous. After Roger became paralyzed he had an ordinary wheelchair for a time, which meant he had to be lifted into and out of it. Daddy told me about it. It seems Roger the Lion-Hearted couldn’t take that. It made him too dependent on others. So he designed a special chair for himself.”