I looked at Wolfe. “This is fascinating,” I said bitterly.
He didn’t hear me. His eyes were closed. He couldn’t lean back comfortably on the couch, so as a makeshift he was hunched forward.
“I know you’re chewing on something,” I told him, “but I’m along and I have nothing to chew on. I would appreciate a hint. You’ve spent years training me to report verbatim, and I would like you to give a demonstration.”
His head lifted and his eyes opened. “We’re in a pickle.”
“We have been for nearly a month. I need to know what Telesio said from the beginning.”
“Nonsense. For an hour we merely prattled.”
“Okay, that can wait. Then begin where he toasted Carla.”
He did so. Once or twice I suspected him of skipping and stopped him, but on the whole I was willing to accept it as an adequate job. When he was through he reached for his glass and drank. I let my head back to rest on my clasped hands, and so was looking down my nose at him.
“On account of the wine,” I said, “I may be a little vague, but it looks as if we have three choices. One, stay here and get nowhere. Two, go home and forget it. Three, go to Montenegro and get killed. I have never seen a less attractive batch to pick from.”
“Neither have I.” He put his glass down and took his watch from his vest pocket. “It’s half-past seven, and I’m empty. I’ll see what’s in the kitchen.” He arose and went for the door through which Telesio had gone for the wine and almonds. I followed. It certainly would not have qualified as a kitchen with the Woman’s Home Companion or Good Housekeeping, but there was an electric stove with four units, and the pots and pans on hooks were clean and bright. Wolfe was opening cupboard doors and muttering something to himself about tin cans and civilization. I asked if I could help, and he said no, so I went and got my bag and opened it, got the necessary articles for a personal hour in a bathroom, and then realized that I hadn’t seen one. However, there was one, upstairs. There was no hot water. An apparatus in the corner was probably a water heater, but the instructions riveted to it needed a lot of words, and rather than call Wolfe to come up and decode, I made out without it. The cord of my electric shaver wouldn’t plug into the outlet, and even if it had fitted there was no telling what it might do to the circuit, so I used my scraper.