“Hold it, Stebbins,” Cramer growled. He moved alongside Roy and kept his eyes on him, but spoke to Wolfe. “We don’t charge men with murder just on your say-so, Wolfe. Suppose you fill it in.”
“My dear sir,” Wolfe said petulantly. “Isn’t it obvious? Miss Rowan just said she left the Ritz at 5:45 Tuesday and came straight here. Therefore she didn’t go to Barnum Street at all. She invented that tale about finding Miss Amory dead in her apartment, with a scarf around her neck, because she was determined to see Archie, and, being a female, is utterly irresponsible—”
“You go to the devil,” Lily told him. “I only said that to get him to let me in, I didn’t know anyone else was there, I wanted him to come and have a drink, and then the way he took it, it went over so big—”
“She must have gone to Barnum Street,” Cramer insisted doggedly. “She described it to Goodwin, the body there on the floor propped against a chair with a scarf around her neck—”
“I didn’t do it!” Roy whined. He was trying to stand up, but Cramer had a hand on his shoulder. “I tell you I didn’t do it! I tell you I didn’t—”
“I’m not going to tolerate much of that,” Wolfe said grimly.
Cramer held Roy down in the chair. Roy was starting to tremble. Cramer was going on, “How the hell could she describe it if she hadn’t seen it—” He chopped it off. “Oh, I’ll be damned!”
“Certainly,” Wolfe said impatiently. “That’s the point. She described it, and he heard her. It was good news for him, the best possible news, since it ended his fear that Miss Amory would disclose her knowledge that he had murdered Mrs. Leeds, but naturally he was startled, and had no idea who had done the job for him.”
“I didn’t!” Roy was whining. “I didn’t do it—”
“Shut up!” Cramer barked at him.