“Don’t be vulgar,” I said severely.
“You had to go upstairs and make a survey! You had to— Well?”
Lieutenant Rowcliff had opened the door and entered. There were some city employees I liked, some I admired, some I had no feeling about, some I could have done without easy — and one whose ears I was going to twist someday. That was Rowcliff. He was tall, strong, handsome, and a pain in the neck.
“We’re all through in there, sir,” he said importantly. “We’ve covered everything. Nothing is being taken away, and it is all in order. We were especially careful with the contents of the drawers of Wolfe’s desk, and also we—”
“My desk!” Wolfe roared.
“Yes, your desk,” Rowcliff said precisely, smirking.
The blood was rushing into Wolfe’s face.
“She was killed there,” Cramer said gruffly. “She was strangled with something, and murderers have been known to hide things. Did you get anything at all?”
“I don’t think so,” Rowcliff admitted. “Of course the prints have to be sorted, and there’ll be lab reports. How do we leave it?”
“Seal it up and we’ll see tomorrow. You stay here and keep a photographer. The others can go. Tell Stebbins to send that woman in — Mrs. Irwin.”