“They ought to do for this. Send them up to the Ritz. To interview Miss Rowan’s maid, elevator men, bellboys, the doormen, telephone girls, everybody. We want to know, to the minute if possible, what time Miss Rowan left there Tuesday afternoon. Especially if it was late in the afternoon, say approaching six o’clock — Did you wish to say something, Miss Rowan?”
“No,” Lily said. She was gawking at him incredulously.
“Very well. Of course you may have left the Ritz at any time during the afternoon, I realize that. But other inquiries can be made. Whether, for instance, Miss Amory received a phone call at her office that afternoon. Whether the bell of any of the tenants at 316 Barnum Street rang between 5:30 and 5:45. Whether—”
“My God,” Lily said. “You actually did guess it!”
“Indeed,” Wolfe said quietly. His eyes had a glint in them. “Then you might as well save us the trouble. What time did you leave the Ritz on Tuesday?”
“A little before six. About a quarter to. You know, if I was as smart as you are—”
“Thank you. And came straight here?”
“Yes.”
Wolfe grunted and turned his head. “Sergeant? Over here. There’s your man. Roy Douglas. You can arrest him for the murder of Ann Amory.”
We all moved, to stare at Roy, but he didn’t because he was frozen. He sat stiff, rigid, gaping at Wolfe.