I stopped. “Okay. But do I brief her?”
“No. Bring her here.”
I hesitated, deciding how to put it. “She’s mine, you know. My taking her up and locking her in was a gag, strictly mine. You would have tossed her out if I had consulted you. You have told me to refund her dough and get rid of her. She is mine. With the dope that Helmar has kindly furnished, you will probably be much too tough for her. I reserve the right, if and when I see fit, to go up and get her luggage and take her to the door and let her out.”
He chuckled audibly. He doesn’t do that often, and after all the years I’ve been with him I haven’t got the chuckle tagged. It could have been anything from a gloat to an admission that I had the handle. I stood eying him for three seconds, giving him a chance to translate if he wanted it, but apparently he didn’t, so I turned and strode to the stairs, mounted the two flights, inserted the key in the hole, turned it, and knocked, calling my name. Her voice told me to come in, and I opened the door and entered.
She was right at home. One of the beds had been turned down, and its coverlet, neatly folded, was on the other bed. Seated at a table near a window, under a reading lamp, doing something to her nails, she was in the blue negligee and barefooted. She looked smaller than she had in the peach-colored dress, and younger.
“I had given you up,” she said, not complaining. “In another ten minutes I’ll be in bed.”
“I doubt it. You’ll have to get dressed. Mr. Wolfe wants you down in the office.”
“Now?”
“Now.”
“Why can’t he come up here?”