“Good God, why should we? How could we? Why would any of us kill a man we never saw or heard of before? The thing for the police to do is find out how he ever got in here — that’s their problem.”
“I completely agree,” I assured him heartily. “The trouble is you’ve got a logical mind and some cops haven’t. So the fact remains that one of you, especially one of you that has a key to this place, is apt to get arrested for murder, and right now the odds strongly favor Miss Nieder because they know she used her key last night. Getting convicted is something else, but she would rather not even be arrested right in the middle of the showings of the fall line. May I go on a minute?”
“We’re busy as the devil,” Bernard muttered.
“I’ll be brief. Miss Nieder has hired Mr. Wolfe. She will consult her lawyer, Demarest, within the hour. But meanwhile—”
The door swung open and a man entered. He too shut the door behind him, half turning to close it gently, and then spoke as he advanced.
“Good afternoon, Cynthia. Good afternoon, Bernard. What on earth is going on here?” He saw me. “Who are you, sir, an officer of the law? So am I, in a way. My name is Demarest — Henry R. Demarest, Counselor.” He was coming to me to shake on it, and I stood up and obliged.
“Goodwin, Archie,” I said, “assistant to Nero Wolfe, private detective.”
“Oho!” His brows went up. “Nero Wolfe, eh?” He turned to the others and I had his broad back and the pudgy behind of his neck. “What is all this? A dead man found on the premises and I have to learn it from a policeman asking me about my key? May I ask why I was not informed?”
“We were busy,” Bernard said gruffly. “And not with business. The whole police force was here.”
“I tried to phone you last night,” Cynthia said, “but you weren’t at home, and today you were out at lunch, and I have arranged with Nero Wolfe to keep me from being convicted of murder, and Mr. Goodwin came here with me. I was nearly arrested because I came here last night and stayed fifteen minutes.”