“I told you.”
“But what has that to do with it?”
I shook my head. “Not in the bargain. I said I’d tell you what happened. This is a very complicated business, Miss Estey, and you may decide to tell the police what Archie Goodwin said, and they wouldn’t like it if I went around telling the suspects exactly how all the—”
“I’m not a suspect!”
“I beg your pardon. I thought you were. Anyhow, I’m not—”
“Why should I be?”
“If for no other reason, because you were close to Mrs. Fromm and knew where she was last evening and that her car would be parked nearby. But even if you weren’t I wouldn’t spread it out for you. Mr. Wolfe might feel different. If you change your mind and come down to see him this evening after dinner, or tomorrow morning — say, eleven o’clock, when he’ll be free — he might take a notion to empty the bag for you. He’s a genius, so you never know. If you—”
The door swinging open stopped me. It swung wide, and a man trotted in. As he appeared he started to say something to Miss Estey, but, becoming aware that she had company, cut it off, stopped short, and proceeded to take me in.
When it seemed that neither was she performing introductions nor was he asking strangers’ names, I broke the ice. “My name’s Archie Goodwin. I work for Nero Wolfe.” Seeing how he was taking me in, I added, “I’m in disguise.”
He approached with a hand out, and I arose and took it. “I’m Paul Kuffner.”