The situation had aspects. Rose might come trotting downstairs any minute, and if she chose the minute that Cramer was in the hall, that would be the last we would see of Rose. But any delay in opening up would make Cramer suspicious. I swung the door open.
“Law and order forever,” I said cordially. “Come in.”
“Nuts,” he said, entering.
So for that incivility I let him hang up his hat and coat himself. By the time he had done that I had the door closed and was on the other side of him. He screwed up his face at me and demanded:
“Where is she?”
Chapter 8
I grinned to the best of my ability. “Now wait a minute,” I said in a grieved tone. “I’ve been up less than an hour and my brain’s not warmed up. In the first place, how could I know she was married? In the second—”
He made a noise and moved. I moved, sort of backward. The maneuver ended with me covering the foot of the stairs, which was across the hall from the door to the office, and him pressing forward without actually touching me. There I stopped and he had to.
“I’m going up to see Wolfe,” he said as if he meant it. “I am aware that he spends the morning with his goddamn posies and refuses to come down before eleven o’clock. So I’m going up. Stand aside.”
He moved again and we made contact (noun), but I merely held it. “This,” I said, “is pretty damn silly. I didn’t have to let you in and you know it, but I did. What do you think this is, the den of the White Slave King? This is Nero Wolfe’s home, and there’s his office where he receives callers, and for last year his income tax was eleven thousand four hundred and twelve dollars and eighty-three cents and he paid it last week. Do you remember what happened the time Purley took me down and charged me with interfering with an officer in the performance of his duty? Wasn’t that a picnic?”