She was frowning. “I don’t remember anything that would scare anybody.”
“Don’t go at it like that. It was probably some little thing that didn’t seem important to you at all. We may have to start at the beginning and go over every—”
I stopped on account of her face. The frown had left it, and she was looking past me, not seeing me, with an expression that told me plainly, if I knew her half as well as I thought I did, what was going on inside. I snapped at her, “Do you want the reporters hating you? Off of you for good?”
She was startled. “Of course not! That would be awful!”
“Then watch your step. This has got to be all wool. A girl with a fine mind like you, so much imaginaton, it would be a cinch for you to be creative, but don’t. They’ll double-check everything you say, and if they find it’s not completely straight you’re ruined. They’ll never forgive you. You’ll never need a manager.”
“But I can’t remember anything like that!”
“Not right off the bat, who could? Sometimes a thing like this takes days, let alone hours.” Her hand was right there, and I patted it. “I guess we’d better go over it together, right straight through. That’s the way Nero Wolfe would do it. What time did you get to work this morning?”
“When I always do, a quarter to nine. I’m punctual.”
“Were the others already here?”
“Some were and some weren’t.”