“It couldn’t be done. They’re too jealous of one another.”
“Wait until you see one of them wearing the gift from Tiffany’s. That will settle it.”
“It would settle me too. It would be too damned obvious. None of them is a numskull.”
“But,” Wolfe objected, “it will be equally obvious if she is flushed by Mr. Goodwin — in consultation with me.”
“I don’t expect him to flush her. I don’t want him to.” Lewent slid forward on the smooth leather seat. “My God, can’t you find out things without people knowing it? I couldn’t take Goodwin into that house to cross-examine them about their relations with Huck, even if I wanted to. It is my father’s house, but Huck owns it. We’ll have to use a subterfuge, especially for Goodwin to talk with Huck. I just decided—”
He was stopped by a noise from Wolfe — an explosive noise, half grunt and half snort. It was meant for a stopper. Lewent’s quick little gray eyes widened in startled inquiry. “What’s the matter?”
“You.” Wolfe was mildly disgusted. “I might conceivably engage to pry into the amatory designs of a wealthy widower if I were hard put and the bait was spectacular, but as it is you’re wasting your time. And mine. Good day, sir.”
It sounded positively final. Lewent’s pinched little mouth worked from side to side and up and down. “You mean you won’t do it.”
“That’s right.”
“I didn’t think you would, but I thought I’d try it that way.” He clasped his hands together. “So here goes. Now this is confidential.”