“That’s the girl. I’ll tell you.” I did so. Since it was desirable for her to grasp the situation fully, I started with my propping myself on the fire hydrant in front of 29 Arbor Street and went on from there, as it happened, including, of course, my name and status. By the time I finished she had developed a healthy frown.
“Damn it,” she said with feeling. She moved and put a hand on my arm. “Come and put me in a taxi.”
I stayed planted. “I’ll be glad to, and it will be on me. We’re going to Nero Wolfe’s place.”
“We?” She removed the hand. “You’re crazy.”
“One will get you ten I’m not. Look at it. You and Talento made an appointment at a street corner, so you had some good reason for not wanting to be seen together tonight. It must have been something fairly urgent. I admit the urgency didn’t have to be connected with the murder of Philip Kampf, but it could be, and it certainly has to be discussed. I don’t want to be arbitrary. I can take you to a Homicide sergeant named Stebbins, and you can discuss it with him; or I’ll take you to Mr. Wolfe. I should think you’d prefer Mr. Wolfe, but suit yourself.”
She had well-oiled gears. For a second, as I spoke, her eyes flashed like daggers, but then they went soft and appealing. She took my arm again, this time with both hands. “I’ll discuss it with you,” she said, in a voice she could have used to defrost her refrigerator. “I wouldn’t mind that. We’ll go somewhere.”
I said come on, and we moved, with her maintaining contact with a hand hooked cozily on my arm. We hadn’t gone far, toward Seventh Avenue, when a taxi came along and I flagged it and we got in. I told the driver, “Nine-eighteen West Thirty-fifth,” and he started.
“What’s that?” Miss Jones demanded.
I told her, Nero Wolfe’s house. The poor girl didn’t know what to do. If she called me a rat that wouldn’t help her any. If she kicked and screamed I would merely give the hackie another address. Her best bet was to try to thaw me, and if she had had time for a real campaign, say four or five hours, she might conceivably have made some progress, because she had a knack for it. She didn’t coax or argue; she just told me how she knew I was the kind of man she could tell anything to and I would believe her and understand her, and after she had done that she would be willing to go anywhere or do anything I advised, but she was sure I wouldn’t want to take advantage...
There just wasn’t time enough. The taxi rolled to the curb, and I had a bill ready for the driver. I got out, gave her a hand, and escorted her up the seven steps of the stoop, applauding her economy in not wasting breath on protests. My key wouldn’t let us in, since the chain bolt would be on, so I pushed the button, and in a moment the stoop light shone on us, and in another the door opened. I motioned her in and followed. Fritz was there.