“He’ll be there,” Bernard said grimly, without turning. He had backed up a step to glare at Roper. “You’ll be there, Ward, understand?”
That sounded swell, so I crowded my luck. “You will too, Mr. Daumery, won’t you?”
What the hell, it was a cinch, with him ordering Roper to come. But he turned around to tell me, “I’ll decide later. I’ll let you know. I’ll phone you. Your number’s in the book?”
Demarest chuckled.
X
I like to keep my word, and having on the spur of the moment promised refreshments, they were there. On the table near the big globe were tree-ripened olives, mahallebi, three bowls of nuts, and a comprehensive array of liquids ranging from Wolfe’s best brandy down to beer. Each of the guests had a little table at his elbow. At a quarter to nine, when the last arrival had been ushered in, Bernard Daumery and Ward Roper had nothing on their tables but their napkins, Cynthia had Scotch and water, Demarest a Tom Collins, and Polly Zarella a glass and a bottle of Tokaji Essencia. Bernard had phoned around seven o’clock that we could expect him.
If the cops were tailing all of them, as they almost certainly were, I thought there must be quite a convention outside on 35th Street.
I had completed, before dinner, an extra fancy job of reporting. Wolfe had wanted all the details of my party-arranging mission at Daumery and Nieder’s, both the libretto and the full score, and I had to get it all in and still leave time for questions before Fritz announced dinner, knowing as I did that if we were late to the table and had to hurry Wolfe would be in a bad humor all evening. In my opinion there would be plenty of bad humor to go around without Wolfe contributing a share, which was another reason for keeping my promise on the refreshments.
Since the staging had been left to me I had placed Cynthia in the red leather chair because I liked her there. Polly Zarella had insisted on having the chair nearest to mine, which might have been just her maternal instinct. On her right was Demarest, and then Roper and Bernard. That seemed a good arrangement, since if Bernard took it into his head to do some more slapping he wouldn’t have far to go.
“Thank you for coming,” Wolfe said formally.