Death of A Doxy Read Online Free PDF Page B

way to the airport. I’m a good driver. What’s the address?”
    “I don’t think -” Silence. “What if Orrie -” More silence. “I’ll see.” She hung up.
    I had room for another brioche and slice of ham, and I didn’t dawdle. It might take her only a couple of minutes. When Fritz brought coffee I told him that when you wanted to see someone and didn’t know where she was all you had to do was send out waves, and he asked if we had a client.
    “Yes and no,” I said. “A job for someone, yes. A customer who can be properly billed, no. You heard me mention Orrie’s name, so you might as well know that he’s in a hole and we’re going to pull him out. How do you say in French ‘the brotherhood of man’?”
    “There is no such thing in French. So that’s what your personal errand was Saturday. I’m glad it’s Orrie instead of Saul or Fred, but all the same -“
    The phone rang. I got it. “Nero Wolfe’s office -“
    “Jill Hardy again, Mr. Goodwin. I’ve fixed it. I’ll be there in about an hour.”
    “Good for you. Do you mind giving me your address and phone number'Just to have.”
    She didn’t mind. The address was 217 Nutmeg Street, in the Village. When I had finished the coffee and went to the office, I wrote it on a slip of paper, and the phone number, and considered a problem: should it go in Orrie’s folder'Deciding against it, I got out a new folder and marked it Cather, Orrie, client. In ten minutes Wolfe would be taking the elevator for his morning session, nine to eleven, with the orchids, and I buzzed his room on the house phone. He took his time to answer.
    “Yes?”
    “Good morning. I thought you would want to know that it’s possible that Jill Hardy will still be here when you come down. She’ll arrive in about an hour, probably less.”
    “You have already found her?”
    “Oh, sure. It’s easy when you know how.”
    “Swagger,” he said, and hung up.
    As I dusted desks and chairs, removed yesterday’s sheets from the desk calendars, changed the water in the vase on Wolfe’s desk, and opened the mail, I decided that Jill Hardy would be tall and stiff with quick, sharp eyes, the sergeant type, but the corners of her eyes would slant up a little because some Oriental had got mixed in somewhere along the line. It would have taken something unusual like that to hook Orrie so hard, but there was another reason why she had to be like that. Since we had ruled Orrie out, the sooner we found a replacement for him the better, and of course Jill Hardy was a candidate, and it would simplify it if she looked the part.
    Damn it, she didn’t. When the doorbell rang a little after nine-thirty and I went to the hall and to the front door, what I saw through the one-way glass was a size twelve black leather coat with a fur collar, and a little oval face, pink from the cold, with big gray-blue eyes, under a fur-and-leather pancake. When I had opened up and she was inside and the coat was off, she looked even smaller in the well-fitted dark blue suit. She must have just barely hit the minimum height for her job. In the office, I had one of the yellow chairs in place for her. The red leather chair is too far away from my desk.
    “I’ve calmed down a little,” she said as she sat. “You look a little like Orrie. The same size.”
    That didn’t strike me as an ideal opening for a friendly conversation. I do not look like Orrie. He’s handsome and I’m not. My face needs more nose, but I quit worrying about it when I was twelve. I turned the other cheek. “I’m not surprised,” I said, “that Orrie decided to merge. Seeing you. I’ll congratulate him again when I see him.”
    She ignored the oil. “When will you see him?”
    “I’m not sure. Possibly this afternoon.”
    “I want to see him, but I don’t know how. What do I do?”
    “I wouldn’t try to rush it if I were you. He might get bailed out. He has a good lawyer. When did you see him last?”
    “Why did they arrest