Rex Stout - Nero Wolfe 27 Read Online Free PDF Page A

the others.”
    She was tossing up again. From her look at him it seemed just as well that he had his bodyguard along. She tried stalling. “What does it matter where I got that picture?”
    “Probably it doesn’t. Possibly nothing about you matters. But the picture is a treasure, and this is an odd address for it. Do you own it?”
    “Yes. I bought it.”
    “When?”
    “About a year ago. From a dealer.”
    “The contents of this room are yours?”
    “Yes. I like things that—well, this is my extravagance, my only one.”
    “How long have you been with this firm?”
    “Five years.”
    “What is your salary?”
    She was on a tight rein. “Eighty dollars a week.”
    “Not enough for your extravagance. An inheritance? Alimony? Other income?”
    “I have never married. I had some savings, and I wanted—I wanted these things. If you save for fifteen years you have a right to something.”
    “You have indeed. Where were you the evening that Marie Willis was killed?”
    “I was out in Jersey, in a car with a friend—Bella Velardi. To get cooled off—it was a hot night. We got back after midnight.”
    “In your car?”
    “No, Helen Weltz had let us take hers. She has a Jaguar.”
    My brows went up, and I spoke. “A Jaguar,” I told Wolfe, “is quite a machine. You couldn’t squeeze into one. Counting taxes and extras, four thousand bucks isn’t enough.”
    His eyes darted to me and back to her. “Of course the police have asked if you know of anyone who might have had a motive for killing. Marie Willis. Do you?”
    “No.” Her rein wasn’t so tight.
    “Were you friendly with her?”
    “Yes, friendly enough.”
    “Has any client ever asked you to listen in on calls to his number?”
    “Certainly not!”
    “Did you know Miss Willis wanted to be an actress?”
    “Yes, we all knew that.”
    “Mr. Bagby says he didn’t.”
    Her chin had relaxed a little. “He was her employer. I don’t suppose he knew. When did you talk with Mr. Bagby?”
    “I didn’t. I heard him on the witness stand. Did you know of Miss Willis’s regard for Robina Keane?”
    “Yes, we all knew that too. Marie did imitations of Robina Keane in her parts.”
    “When did she tell you of her decision to tell Robina Keane that her husband was going to monitor her telephone?”
    Miss Hart frowned. “I didn’t say she told me.”
    “Did she?”
    “No.”
    “Did anyone?”
    “Yes, Miss Velardi. Marie had told her. You can ask her.”
    “I shall. Do you know Guy Unger?”
    “Yes, I know him. Not very well.”
    Wolfe was playing a game I had often watched him at, tossing balls at random to see how they bounced. It’s a good way to try to find a lead if you haven’t got one, but it may take all day, and he didn’t have it. If one of the females in the front room took a notion to phone the cops or the DA’s office about us we might have visitors any minute. As for Guy Unger, that was another name from the newspaper accounts. He had been Marie Willis’s boy friend, or had he? There had been a difference of opinion among the journalists.
    Miss Hart’s opinion was that Guy Unger and Marie had enjoyed each other’s company, but that was as far as it went—I mean her opinion. She knew nothing of any crisis that might have made Unger want to end the friendship with a plug cord. For another five minutes Wolfe went on with the game, tossing different balls from different angles, and then abruptly arose.
    “Very well,” he said. “For now. I’ll try Miss Velardi.”
    “I’ll send her in.” Alice Hart was on her feet, eagerto cooperate. “Her room is next door.” She moved. “This way.”
    Obviously she didn’t want to leave us with her van Gogh. There was a lock on a bureau drawer that I could probably have manipulated in twenty seconds, and I would have liked to try my hand on it, but Wolfe was following her out, so I went along—to the right, down the hall to another door, standing open. Leaving us there, she strode