Wolfe said, “Move closer, Miss Karn, so we won’t have to shout. That red chair is the most comfortable.”
Naomi Karn, without saying anything, got up, crossed to the red chair, recently vacated by May Hawthorne, and sank into it. She was the only one left. Immediately upon the departure of the Hawthornes and Dunns, with entourage, both branches of law and order had deserted us too. Inspector Cramer, noticing the young woman still inconspicuous in her corner, had pampered his curiosity by firing a question at Wolfe, but Wolfe had waved it off and he had abandoned it and hastened after the others.
Wolfe regarded her with half-closed eyes. After a moment he murmured, “Well. Now you’re in a pickle.”
She lifted her brows a trifle and asked, “Me? Not at all.” She wasn’t pasty-faced, as she had been some half an hour before, but she was nothing like as cocky as when she had originally made me sore.
“Oh, yes, you are.” Wolfe wiggled a finger at her. “Let’s don’t start with caracoles. You know very well you’re in a devil of a pickle. Those policemen are going up there and ask interminable questions. Among others, about Mr. Hawthorne’s will. Even if it’s a political foray, which seems doubtful, they’ll inquire about the will for the sake of appearances. They always do. Then they’ll question you. I expect Inspector Cramer will take that on himself. Mr. Cramer’s weapons are nothing remarkable for penetration, but they can do a lot of bruising.” He pushed a button. “Will you have some beer?”
She shook her head. “I can’t imagine any question anyone could ask me that would be difficult or embarrassing to answer.”
“I’ll wager that isn’t true, Miss Karn. I don’t mean merely that there are thousands of questions which I myself would find it difficult or embarrassing to answer, and that doubtless holds for all the members of our race. I mean, specifically, that you were scared half to death when Mr. Skinner announced that Noel Hawthorne was murdered. The confident and defiant intelligence which had flashed from your eyes a moment before, vanished like that.” He snapped his fingers. “Also, specifically, what are you here for now?”
“I’m here because you sent for me and I don’t intend—”
“No no no. We’ve turned that page. Mr. Skinner has. That bomb he lugged in here has started a new chapter. It caused a lull, temporary perhaps but complete, in the hostilities over the will; everyone had forgotten all about it until I asked Mrs. Dunn if she wished me to proceed. Including you. If after the shock of Mr. Skinner’s announcement, you had resumed thinking about the will, your face would have gone on the warpath again, but it didn’t; to this moment it shows only wariness and concern. Your mind isn’t on money, Miss Karn, it’s on murder, and I have nothing to do with that. Why didn’t you get up and go as soon as the others had left? Why did you stay?”
It looked to me as if he had overplayed it, for she wasn’t answering him with words, but with action. She had quietly arisen from her chair and started for the door.