She drained her glass and put it on the desk. “This Arthur Rackell,” she said, “was quite a guy, of his kind. Carol Berk and I discovered only a month ago that he was driving double, by a little mischance I’d rather not describe. It was quite embarrasing. I don’t know how she felt about it, you can ask her, but I know about me. All I needed was the poison, and all you need is to find out how I got it. I understand that potassium cyanide is used for a lot of things and is easy to get if you really want it. Then there’s Hank Heath. He thought Arthur had me taped, which was true in a way, but would a man kill another man just to get a woman, even one as pure and beautiful as me? You can ask him. No, I’ll ask him.”
She wheeled. “Would you, Hank?” She wheeled again to Wolfe. “As you see, that was quite a dinner party Arthur got up, but he doesn’t deserve all the credit. I dared him to. I wanted a good audience, one that would appreciate — hey, that hurts!”
Heath was beside her, gripping her arm. She jerked away and bumped into Delia Devlin, also out of her chair. Carol Berk said something, and so did Leddegard. Heath spoke to Wolfe. “This is a joke, and it’s not funny.”
Wolfe’s brows went up. “It’s not my joke, sir.”
“You asked us to come here.” His voice was soft but very sour, and his glassy eyes looked about ready to pop out of his round pudgy face. “Miss Goheen has been making a fool of you, and there—”
“I have not!” Fifi was back, at his elbow. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” she told Wolfe. “You know, there’s something about you, fat as you are.” She reached to pick up the glass of beer and Scotch. “Open your mouth and I’ll — hey! Where you going?”
She got no reply. Out of his chair and headed for the door, Wolfe kept on, turning left in the hall, toward the kitchen.
That ended the party. They made remarks, especially Leddegard and Heath, and I was sympathetic as I wrangled them into the hall and on to the front. I went out and stood on the stoop as they descended to the sidewalk and headed for Tenth Avenue, just to see, but by the time they had gone fifty paces no furtive figures had sneaked out of areaways along the line, so I thought what the hell and went back in. A glance in the office showed me it was empty, and I went on to the kitchen.
Fritz was pouring something thick into a big stone jar. Wolfe stood watching him, a slice of sturgeon in one hand and a glass of beer in the other. His mouth was occupied.
I attacked head on. “I admit,” I said, “that she was set to toss it at you, but I was there to help wipe it off. What good does it do to duck? There are at least eighty-six things you have to know before you can even start, and you had them there and didn’t even try. My vacation starts next Monday. And what about your rule on not eating at bedtime?”