Annie Audrey was all dressed up in a neat brown wool dress with red threads showing on it in little knots, but she didn’t look pleased with herself or with anyone else. You wouldn’t think a face with all that pink skin could look so sour. With no greeting, not even a nod, she demanded as she approached, “How do you get to see a man that’s been arrested?”
“That depends,” I told her. “Don’t snap at me like that. I didn’t arrest him. Who do you want to see, Broadyke?”
“No.” She dropped onto a chair as if she needed support quick. “Wayne Safford.”
“Arrested what for?”
“I don’t know. I saw him at the stable this morning and then I went downtown to see about a job. A while ago I phoned Lucy, my best friend here, and she told me there was talk about Vic Talbott selling those designs to Broadyke, so I came to find out what was happening and when I learned that Talbott and Pohl had both been arrested I phoned Wayne to tell him about it, and the man there answered and said a policeman had come and taken Wayne with him.”
“For why?”
“The man didn’t know. How do I get to see him?”
“You probably don’t.”
“But I have to!”
I shook my head. “You believe you have to, and I believe you have to, but the cops won’t. It depends on what his invitation said. If they just want to consult him about sweating horses he may be home in an hour. If they’ve got a hook in him, or think they have, God knows. You’re not a lawyer or a relative.”
She sat and looked at me, sourer than ever. In a minute she spoke, bitterly. “You said yesterday I may be nice.”
“Meaning I should mount my bulldozer and move heaven and earth?” I shook my head again. “Even if you were so nice it made my head swim, the best I could do for you this second would be to hold your hand, and judging from your expression that’s not what you have in mind. Would you mind telling me what you have got in your mind besides curiosity?”
She got up, circled two corners of the desk to reach the phone, put it to her ear, and in a moment told the transmitter, “This is Audrey, Helen. Would you get me— No. Forget it.”
She hung up, perched on a corner of the desk, and started giving me the chilly eye again, this time slanting down instead of up.
“It’s me,” she declared.
“What is?”
“This trouble. Wherever I am there’s trouble.”
“Yeah, the world’s full of it. Wherever anybody is there’s trouble. You get shaky ideas. Yesterday you were scared because you thought they were getting set to hang a murder on you, and not one of them has even hinted at it. Maybe you’re wrong again.”
“No, I’m not.” She sounded grim. “There was that business of accusing me of stealing those designs. They didn’t have to pick me for that, but you notice they did. Now all of a sudden that’s cleared up, I’m out of that, and what happens? Wayne gets arrested for murder. Next thing—”
“I thought you didn’t know what they took him for.”
“I don’t. But you’ll see. He was with me, wasn’t he?” She slid off the desk and was erect. “I think— I’m pretty sure— I’m going to see Dorothy Keyes.”
“She’s busy with a caller.”
“I know it, but he may be gone.”
“A man named Donaldson, and I’m wondering about him. I have a hunch Miss Keyes is starting a little investigation on her own. Do you happen to know if this Donaldson is a detective?”
“I know he isn’t. He’s a lawyer and a friend of Mr. Keyes. I’ve seen him here several times. Do you—”
What interrupted her was a man coming in the door and heading for us.
It was a man I had known for years. “We’re busy,” I told him brusquely. “Come back tomorrow.”
I should have had sense enough to give up kidding Sergeant Purley Stebbins of the Homicide Squad long ago, since it always glanced off and rolled away. When he got sore, as he often did, it wasn’t at the kidding but at what he considered my interference with the performance of his duty.
“So you’re here,” he stated.
“Yep. Miss Rooney, this is Sergeant—”
“Oh, I’ve met him before.” Her face was just as sour at him as it had been at me.
“Yeah, we’ve met,” Purley acquiesced. His honest brown eyes were at her. “I’ve been looking for you, Miss Rooney.”
“Oh, my Lord, more questions?”
“The same ones. Just checking up. You remember that statement you signed, where you said that Tuesday morning you were at the riding academy with Safford from a quarter to six until after half-past seven, and both of you were there all the time? You remember that?”
“Certainly I do.”
“Do you want to change it now?”
Audrey frowned. “Change what?”
“Your statement.”
“Of course not. Why should I?”
“Then how do you account for the fact that you were seen riding a horse into the park during that period, and Safford, on another horse, was with you, and Safford has admitted it?”
“Count ten,” I snapped at her, “before you answer. Or even a hun—”
“Shut up,” Purley snarled. “How do you account for it, Miss Rooney? You must have figured this might come and got something ready for it. What’s the answer?”
Audrey had left her perch on the desk to get on her feet and face the pursuer. “Maybe,” she suggested, “someone couldn’t see straight. Who says he saw us?”
“Okay.” Purley hauled a paper from his pocket and unfolded it. He looked at me. “We’re careful about these little details when that fat boss of yours has got his nose in.” He held the paper so Audrey could see it. “This is a warrant for your arrest as a material witness. Your friend Safford wanted to read his clear through. Do you?”
She ignored his generous offer. “What does it mean?” she demanded.
“It means you’re going to ride downtown with me.”
“It also means—” I began.
“Shut up.” Purley moved a step. His hand started for her elbow, but didn’t reach it, for she drew back and then turned and was on her way. He followed and was at her heels as she went out the door. Apparently she thought she had found a way to get to see her Wayne.
I sat a little while with my lips screwed up, gazing at the ashtray on the desk. I shook my head at nothing in particular, just the state of things, reached for the phone, got an outside line, and dialed again.
Wolfe’s voice answered.
“Where’s Orrie?” I demanded. “Taking a nap on my bed?”
“Where are you?” Wolfe inquired placidly.
“Still in Keyes’ office. More of the same. Two more gone.”
“Two more what? Where?”
“Clients. In the hoosegow. We’re getting awful low—”
“Who and why?”
“Wayne Safford and Audrey Rooney.” I told him what had happened, without bothering to explain that Audrey had walked in before our previous conversation had ended. At the end I added, “So four out of five have been snaffled, and Talbott too. We’re in a fine fix. That leaves us with just one, Dorothy Keyes, and it wouldn’t surprise me if she was also on her way, judging from the look on her face when she heard who was— Hold it a minute.”
What stopped me was the sight of another visitor entering the room. It was Dorothy Keyes. I told the phone, “I’ll call back,” hung up, and left my chair.
Dorothy came to me. She was still human, more so if anything. The perky lift of her was completely gone, the color scheme of her visible skin was washed-out gray, and her eyes were pinched with trouble.
“Mr. Donaldson gone?” I asked her.
“Yes.”
“It’s a bad day all around. Now Miss Rooney and Wayne Safford have been pinched. The police seem to think they left out something about that Tuesday morning. I was just telling Mr. Wolfe when you came—”
“I want to see him,” she said.
“Who? Mr. Wolfe?”
“Yes. Immediately.”
“What about?”
I’ll be damned if her brows didn’t go up. The humanity I thought I had seen was only on the surface.
“I’ll tell him that,” she stated, me being mud. “I must see him at once.”
“You can’t, not at once,” I told her. “You could rush there in a taxi, but you might as well wait till I go to Sixty-fifth Street and get my car, because it’s after four o’clock and he’s up with the orchids, and he wouldn’t see you until six even though you are the only client he’s got still out of jail.”
“But this is urgent!”
“Not for him it isn’t, not until six o’clock. Unless you want to tell me about it. I’m permitted upstairs. Do you?”
“No.”
“Then shall I go get my car?”
“Yes.”
I went.