I sat a little while with my lips screwed up, gazing at the ashtray on the desk. I shook my head at nothing in particular, just the state of things, reached for the phone, got an outside line, and dialed again.
Wolfe’s voice answered.
“Where’s Orrie?” I demanded. “Taking a nap on my bed?”
“Where are you?” Wolfe inquired placidly.
“Still in Keyes’ office. More of the same. Two more gone.”
“Two more what? Where?”
“Clients. In the hoosegow. We’re getting awful low—”
“Who and why?”
“Wayne Safford and Audrey Rooney.” I told him what had happened, without bothering to explain that Audrey had walked in before our previous conversation had ended. At the end I added, “So four out of five have been snaffled, and Talbott too. We’re in a fine fix. That leaves us with just one, Dorothy Keyes, and it wouldn’t surprise me if she was also on her way, judging from the look on her face when she heard who was— Hold it a minute.”
What stopped me was the sight of another visitor entering the room. It was Dorothy Keyes. I told the phone, “I’ll call back,” hung up, and left my chair.