“I’ll write it,” June offered. “And I’ll send — whom shall I send first, Mr. Wolfe?”
I put in an oar. “Your daughter, Mrs. Dunn, if you please.”
“My daughter?” She looked at me in surprise. “She wasn’t there. She didn’t arrive until afterwards.”
“We’ll take her first,” I said firmly.
She accepted it and crossed to her husband, and they left the room together, with his arm around her shoulders and her hand patting him on the back.
When the door had closed Wolfe asked, “Why the daughter?”
Rummaging through the desk drawers for something to take notes on, I told him, “By request. She’s trying to win a prize and wants to take your picture.”
Chapter 8
Sara Dunn came in on a lope, but she had to sit and wait a while until some chores were disposed of. A phone call to Saul Panzer to tell him to report to us there as soon as possible, one to Fred Durkin ditto, and one to Johnny Keems also ditto. One to Fritz to tell him we wouldn’t be home for lunch. A demand, relayed by a maid to the butler, for beer. And time out for my report to Wolfe, more in detail, on the episode of Mr. Eugene Davis. After that, Wolfe sat with his lips pushing in and out for some moments, and then leaned back, sighed, and addressed the first victim.
“You told Mr. Goodwin you wanted to see me, Miss Dunn?”