“I didn’t want to come here. My sister and brother-in-law insisted on it. Which was it, funk or treachery?”
“Now, Miss Hawthorne—” Stauffer approached remonstrating, “That won’t help the situation—”
“April’s arrested,” June blurted. “They’ve arrested her!”
I was trying to help out by pushing chairs behind knees here and there. They certainly were a woebegone outfit.
“She’s not arrested,” Dunn said as he sank into a chair without looking at it. Still a lawyer, in misfortune up to his chin. “She was asked to go to the district attorney’s office and she went. But the way it stands now—”
“I tell you, John,” May snapped at him, “before we tell this man anything, we should demand a satisfactory explanation—”
“Nonsense,” Stauffer sputtered irritably. “Damn it all, you talk as if we could choose—”
“Please, all of you!” Wolfe pushed air with his palm. “Stop jabbering. Your minds aren’t working.” He looked at May. “Apparently, Miss Hawthorne, you are resentful because when we found Miss Karn’s dead body I came home to think it over instead of sitting there all night starving and twiddling my thumbs. I thought you had more sense. To answer your question, it was neither funk nor treachery; it was wit. Anyhow, I’m not answerable to you. You, with others, engaged me to negotiate with Miss Karn, but Miss Karn is dead. Mr. Dunn engaged me to investigate the murder of Noel Hawthorne.” He looked at Dunn. “Am I still so engaged?”
“Yes. Of course.” Dunn didn’t sound very enthusiastic. “But I don’t know what you can do — Prescott’s down there with April—”
“Let’s clear the air a little,” Wolfe suggested. “April is in no danger whatever, except of being annoyed.”