The Red Box Read Online Free PDF Page B

only through interviews with all of the persons who were in this place last Monday; and I doubt if you could persuade even the innocent ones to call at my office.”
    Lew Frost muttered, “It’s your job. You took it. If you’re not up to it—”
    “Nonsense. Does a bridge engineer dig ditches?” Wolfe opened the third bottle. “I believe I have not thanked you for this beer. I do thank you. I assure you, sir, this problem is well within my abilities in so far as it is possible to apply them. In so far—for instance, take Miss Mitchell here. Is she telling the truth? Did she murder Molly Lauck? Let us find out.” He turned and got sharp. “Miss Mitchell. Do you eat much candy?”
    She said, “You’re being smart.”
    “I’m begging your indulgence. It won’t hurt you, with nerves like yours. Do you eat much candy?”
    She drew her shoulders together, and released them. “Once in a while. I have to be careful. I’m a model, and I watch myself.”
    “What is your favorite kind?”
    “Candied fruits. I like nuts too.”
    “You removed the lid from that box last Monday. What color was it?”
    “Brown. A kind of gold-brown.”
    “What kind was it? What did it say on the lid?”
    “It said … it said
Medley
. Some kind of a medley.”
    Wolfe snapped, “ ‘Some kind?’ Do you mean to say you don’t remember what name was on the lid?”
    She frowned at him. “No … I don’t. That’s funny. I would have thought—”
    “So would I. You looked at it and took the lid off, and later replaced the lid and held onto the box, knowing there was deadly poison in it, and you weren’t even curious enough—”
    “Now wait a minute. You’re not so smart. Molly was dead on the floor, and everybody was crowding into the room, and I was looking for Mr. McNair to give him the box, I didn’t want the damn thing, and certainly I wasn’t trying to think of things to be curious about.” She frowned again. “At that, it
is
funny I didn’t really see the name.”
    Wolfe nodded. He turned abruptly to Lew Frost. “You see, sir, how it is done. What is to be deduced from Miss Mitchell’s performance? Is she cleverly pretending that she does not know what was on that lid, or is it credible that she really failed to notice it? I am merely demonstrating. For another example, take your cousin.” He switched his eyes and shot at her, “You, Miss Frost. Do you eat candy?”
    She looked at her cousin. “Is this necessary, Lew?”
    Frost flushed. He opened his mouth, but Wolfe was in ahead:
    “Miss Mitchell didn’t beg off. Of course, she has good nerves.”
    The sylph leveled her eyes at him. “There’s nothing wrong with my nerves. But this cheap—oh, well. I eat candy. I much prefer caramels, and since I work as a model and have to be careful too, I confine myself to them.”
    “Chocolate caramels? Nut caramels?”
    “Any kind. Caramels. I like to chew them.”
    “How often do you eat them?”
    “Maybe once a week.”
    “Do you buy them yourself?”
    “No. I don’t get a chance to. My cousin knows my preference, and he sends me boxes of Carlatti’s. Too often. I have to give most of them away.”
    “You are very fond of them?”
    She nodded. “Very.”
    “You find it hard to resist them when offered?”
    “Sometimes, yes.”
    “Monday afternoon you had been working hard? You were tired? You had had a short and unsatisfactory lunch?”
    She was tolerating it. “Yes.”
    “Then, when Miss Lauck offered you caramels, why didn’t you take one?”
    “She didn’t offer me caramels. There weren’t any in that—” She stopped. She glanced aside, at her cousin, and then put her eyes at Wolfe again. “That is, I didn’t suppose—”
    “Suppose?” Wolfe’s voice suddenly softened. “Miss Mitchell couldn’t remember what was on the lid of that box. Can you, Miss Frost?”
    “No. I don’t know.”
    “Miss Mitchell has said that you didn’t handle the box. You were at the mirror, fixing your