“If you’ve got a bill, mail it. You’ll get about three percent.”
I suppressed impulses and shook my head. “No bill. I came to see Miss Nichols.”
“Yes you did. You came to snoop—”
But Janet had her hand on his arm. “Please, Larry. Mr. Goodwin phoned and asked to see me. Please?”
I would have preferred smacking him, and it was irritating to see her with her hand on his arm looking up at him the way she did, but when he turned and marched off towards the house I restrained myself and let him go.
I asked Janet, “What’s eating him?”
“Well,” she said, “after all, you are a detective. And his aunt has died — terrible, it was terrible—”
“Sure. If you want to call that grief. What was the crack about three per cent?”
“Oh...” She hesitated. “But there’s nothing secret about it, goodness knows. Miss Huddleston’s affairs are tangled up. Everybody thought she was rich, but apparently she spent it as fast as she made it.”
“Faster, if the creditors are going to get three percent.” I got started towards the terrace, and she came beside me. “In that case, the brother and the nephew are out of luck. I apologize to Larry. He’s probably overcome by grief, after all.”