She greeted me with a demand. “May I see your card, please?”
It had been read to her on the phone. I crossed and handed it over. She looked at it and then up at me. “I’m very busy. Is this urgent?”
“It won’t take long, Miss Wright.”
“What good will it do to discuss it with me?”
“I don’t know. You’ll have to leave that open, whether it does any good or not. I’m speaking strictly for myself, not for Nero Wolfe, and there’s no—”
“Didn’t Nero Wolfe send you here?”
“No.”
“Did the police?”
“No. This is my idea. I’ve had some bad luck and I need some cash, and I’ve got something to sell. I know this is a bad day for you, with Mrs. Fromm’s funeral this afternoon, but this won’t keep — at least I can’t count on it — and I need five thousand dollars as soon as I can get it.”
She smiled with one side of her mouth. “I’m afraid I haven’t that much with me, if this is a stickup. Aren’t you a reputable licensed detective?”