She let that one go by. A corner of her lip curled. “You may tell Mr. Wolfe that his bluff didn’t work. I have learned that his ridiculous offer of a hundred thousand dollars was not authorized by his clients. I’ll do a great deal better than that.”
“Good. We don’t deserve a fee anyhow. I am strongly opposed to the detective tariff. Why should you contribute to our sensual ease? I agree with whoever it was, millions for defemmes but not one cent for tribute. Excuse me a minute.”
A sudden bright idea had occurred to me. The draperies, heavy red folds from the ceiling to the floor, behind which Daisy had disappeared that morning, were there in the middle of the wall only three paces away. My idea was vague; there was no sense in supposing that she had chosen that exit again and was there eavesdropping; but I was curious about what was behind them anyhow. I stepped over and parted them enough to look in. Then, seeing what I saw, I passed through and let them fall behind me.
Osric Stauffer stood there, his back to the wall, with his finger pressed against his lips to shush me. I met his eyes, and met an appeal for silence there too, in spite of the dim light.
I glanced around. It was a small room, with a small window in the left rear corner. At one side was a bar, about ten feet long, with an array of glasses and bottles on shelves behind it, and a big picture of barefooted girls picking grapes. A rug on the floor completed the furnishings. In the right rear corner was a door, shut.
Stauffer hadn’t moved. He didn’t look very menacing, so I saw no reason to interfere with his method of passing the time. I turned around and pawed my way out and was standing in front of Miss Kara again.
“When Mrs. Hawthorne comes back,” I said, “I’d appreciate it if you’d finish with her as soon as possible, because Mr. Wolfe wants her. Why don’t you come up and see Wolfe while you’re waiting? He’d love to have a chat with you.”
She just looked through me. I shrugged. “Okay, suit yourself. I understand you had a good talk with an old friend of mine this morning. Inspector Cramer. He was warning Wolfe about you and telling about your alibis for Tuesday afternoon.”
She stirred on her chair. “I doubt,” she said, “if at any time in my life I would have regarded you as funny.”
“Pooh.” I looked her in the eye. “Let me tell you something, Miss Karn. Up to now I am reserving judgment as to whether it was you who blew Hawthorne’s head off. If it was, you’d better be making your own will instead of fussing around about his. But if it wasn’t, the best thing you can do is trot upstairs without delay and lay your pretty head confidingly on Nero Wolfe’s shoulder. I’m telling you. The popping noises around here do not come from firecrackers, which might singe your eyelashes but that’s all. Someone’s going to get a bad burn out of this before it’s over.”