“Not more than half a minute, I’m sure it wasn’t. I took another piece and was eating it, and Molly was looking into the box, saying something about taking the taste out of her mouth—”
She stopped because the door popped open. Llewellyn Frost appeared, carrying a paper bag. I got up and took it from him, and extracted from it the opener and glass and bottles and arranged them in front of Wolfe. Wolfe picked up the opener and felt of a bottle.
“Umph. Schreirer’s. It’s too cold.”
I sat down again. “It’ll make a bead. Try it.” He poured. Helen Frost was saying to her cousin:
“So that’s what you went for. Your detective wants to know exactly what I said, my exact words, and he asks Thelma if I handled the box of candy...”
Frost patted her on the shoulder. “Now, Helen. Take it easy. He knows what he’s doing...”
One bottle was empty, and the glass. Frost sat down. Wolfe wiped his lips.
“You were saying, Miss Mitchell, Miss Lauck spoke of taking the taste out of her mouth.”
The blonde nodded. “Yes. And then — well — all of a sudden she straightened up and made a noise. She didn’t scream, it was just a noise, a horrible noise. She got off the table and then leaned back against it and her face was all twisted... it was... twisted. She looked at me with her eyes staring, and her mouth went open and shut but she couldn’t say anything, and suddenly she shook all over and grabbed for me and got hold of my hair... and... and...”
“Yes, Miss Mitchell.”