Never to find yourself in a situation where you have to enter a big department store is one of the minor reasons for not getting married. I guess it would also be a reason for not being a detective. Anyway, Meadow’s is unquestionably a big department store, and that Thursday morning I had to enter it in the practice of my profession. The toy department is on the fourth floor, I suppose to give the kids more fun on the escalators. By the time I got there the sweat on my back was starting to freeze in the conditioned air, and I had to resist an impulse to go up another flight and buy a topcoat.
The salesperson I approached said she thought Miss Alving was busy and would I wait. I found an empty chair over by the scooters. I thought contact with the chair’s back might melt the ice on mine, but it was plastic, so I sat straight. After a while a woman came hurrying to me, and I arose.
“Miss Julie Alving?”
“Yes, I’m Miss Alving.”
When Marko had told us about Floyd Whitten’s former love whom he had ditched when he married the boss, I had made a casual mental comment that there was something droll about a man living in sin with a toy buyer, but one look at Julie Alving showed me that such casual comments can be silly. She was forty and looked it, and she was not an eyestopper in any obvious way, but everything about her, the way she walked, the way she stood, her eyes and mouth and whole face, seemed to be saying, without trying or intending to, that if you had happened to be hers, and she yours, life would be full of pleasant and interesting surprises. It wasn’t anything personal, it was just her. I was so impressed, in spite of her age, that I was smiling at her before I knew it.
I spoke. “My name’s Archie Goodwin, Miss Alving, and I work for Nero Wolfe. You may have heard of him? The detective?”
“Yes, I’ve heard of him.” Her voice was a little thin.
“He would like to see you. He would appreciate it very much if you can get away for an hour and come to his office with me. He has something to say to you on behalf of Mrs. Floyd Whitten.”
I thought for a second she was going to topple. The way her head jerked up and then came down again as all her muscles sagged, it was as if I had landed an uppercut. My hand even started to reach, to be there if the muscles really quit, but she stayed upright.
“Mrs. — Mrs. Whitten?” she stammered.
I nodded. “You used to know her husband. Here, sit down.”
She ignored that. “What does she want?”
“I don’t know, but Mr. Wolfe does. She came to see him last night and they talked. He said to tell you it’s important and urgent, and he has to see you this morning.”
“But I–I’m here at work.”
“Yeah, I know. I work too and know how it is. I told him you might not be able to make it until after the store closes, but he said that wouldn’t do.”
“What did Mrs. Whitten talk to him about?”
I shook my head. “You’ll have to ask him.”
She got her teeth on her lower lip, kept them there a while, said, “Wait here, please,” and left me. She passed behind a counter and disappeared through a partition opening. I sat down. When my watch showed me that I had waited twenty-two minutes I began to wonder if I was being imposed on, but no, she returned.
She came to me and said, “I’ll leave right away. What’s the address?”
I told her we might as well go together, and when she objected that she must go out by the employees’ entrance I hurdled that by arranging for us to meet outside. My instructions were to bring her, and I’m great for instructions. My guesses on the role Wolfe was casting her for were nothing but guesses, and they contradicted one another, but if by any chance he had her down for top billing I didn’t want to be responsible for her not showing up. So I was really pleased to see her when she reached the meeting place on the sidewalk not more than a minute after I did.
On the way down in the taxi she sat with a tight two-handed grip on her bag, and had no comments or questions. That suited me, since I hadn’t the faintest idea what she was heading into and therefore would have been able to make no contribution except grunts.
Since I had been instructed not to tell her that Mrs. Whitten and Phoebe were our house guests, I wouldn’t have been surprised to see them both there in the office when I entered with Julie Alving, but Wolfe was alone, in his chair behind his desk, with a newspaper. He put the paper down, got to his feet, and bowed, which was quite a tribute, either to Julie or the part she was supposed to take. I’ve seen him react to a woman’s entrance in that office with nothing but a ferocious scowl. So I participated by giving Miss Alving the red leather chair.
She sat, still clutching her bag, and gazed at him. Wolfe told me to get my notebook and I did so. A man getting a notebook and pen ready sometimes makes quite an effect.
Wolfe returned her gaze. “I suppose Mr. Goodwin told you that I wanted to speak with you about Mrs. Whitten.”
She nodded. “Yes, that’s what he said — no, he said on behalf of Mrs. Whitten.”
Wolfe waved it away with a finger. “He may have used that phrase. He likes it. In any case, I’ll come straight to the point. I think I can arrange it so that Mrs. Whitten will not prosecute, if you’ll help me.”
“Prosecute?” She was only so-so at faking surprise. “Prosecute who?”
“You, Miss Alving. Have you no notion of what charge Mrs. Whitten can lay against you?”
“Certainly not. There isn’t any.”
“When did you last see her?”
“I never have seen her — that is, I’ve never met her.”
“When did you last see her?”
“I don’t know — a long while — months ago. I only saw her two or three times — never to speak to.”
“That was months ago?”
“Yes.”
“Do you owe her anything?”
“No.”
“Does she owe you anything?”
“No.”
“Have you ever had anything to do with her — anything at all?”
“No.”
“Have you any reason to expect or fear anything from her, good or bad?”
“No.”
“Then will you please tell me why, when Mr. Good win told you I wanted to speak with you on behalf of Mrs. Whitten, you left your work immediately and came here with him?”
Julie looked at him, and then at me as if it was up to me to answer that one. Seeing that I was no nearer ready with something adequate than she was, she went back to Wolfe.
“Why wouldn’t I?” she demanded. “After what has happened, wouldn’t I want to know what she wanted?”
Wolfe nodded approvingly. “That was much the best you could do, and you did it. But it’s not good enough. If you maintain this attitude, Miss Alving, I’m afraid I’m out of it, and you’ll have others to deal with. I would advise you to reconsider. I think you’re wrong to assume that they will believe you, and not Mrs. Whitten, when she tells them that you attacked her with a knife and your target was her heart.”
“I didn’t!” Julie cried. That was only so-so too.
“Nonsense. Of course you did. I can understand your reluctance, since nothing has been published about it, and for all you know Mrs. Whitten may be at the point of death. But she isn’t. Your blade didn’t get beyond the rib, and twelve stitches were all that was necessary to make her capable of riding here to my office. Except for a little loss of blood she’s as good as ever. She hasn’t even reported it to the police, not wishing to give the public another mouthful to chew on — a mortal assault on her by the former friend of her murdered husband. So the limit of a charge against you would be assault with intent to kill.”
Wolfe waved that aside as if it were a mere peccadillo. “And if you’ll be frank with me and answer some questions, I undertake to arrange that Mrs. Whitten will not prosecute. If you had achieved your purpose, if she were dead, that would be different and I wouldn’t be so foolish as to expect frankness from you. I wouldn’t ask you to confess a murder, Miss Alving.”
She was doing her best and I admired her for it. But the trouble was that she had to decide on her line right there facing us, and having to make up your mind with Nero Wolfe’s eyes, open an eighth of an inch, on you, is no situation for an amateur.
However, she wasn’t made of jelly. “When did this — when and where was Mrs. Whitten attacked?”
“I’ll refresh your memory,” Wolfe said patiently, “if you want it that way. A quarter to ten last evening, in front of her house, as she got out of her car.”
“It wasn’t in the papers. I should think a thing like that would be in the papers.”
“Only if the papers heard of it, and they didn’t. Naturally you searched for it. I’ve told you why Mrs. Whitten didn’t report it.”
Julie was still making up her mind. “It seems to me you’re expecting a good deal — I mean, even if I did it, and I didn’t. If I had, the way it looks to me, I wouldn’t know whether you were trying to get me to confess to a murder or not. I wouldn’t know whether she were dead, or had just lost some blood as you said. Would I?”
She had him there. He sat and gazed at her a long moment, grunted, and turned to me.
“Archie. Bring that witness down here. Only the one. If the other one is importunate, remind her that I said our talk about Miss Alving must be tête-à-tête.”