Come and show me which drawer the money was in.”
She moved ahead of me, led the way to Muir’s desk, and pulled open one of the drawers, the second one from the top on the right.
There was nothing in it but a stack of envelopes.
I reached out and closed it, then opened and closed it again, grinning as I remembered Perry’s suggestion about fingerprints.
Then I left the desk and strolled around a little.
It was just a vice-president’s office, smaller and modester than Perry’s but still by no means a pigpen.
I noticed one detail, or rather three, a little out of the ordinary.
There was no portrait of Abraham Lincoln nor replica of the Declaration of Independence on the walls, but there were three different good-sized photographs of three different good-looking women, hanging framed.
I turned to Miss Barish, who was still standing by the desk.
“Who are all the handsome ladies?”
“They are Mr. Muir’s wives.”
“Nol Honest to God?
Mostly dead?”
“I don’t know.
None of them is with him now.”
“Too bad.
It looks like he’s sentimental.”
She shook her head.
“Mr. Muir is a sensual man.”
She was having another frank spell.
I glanced at my watch.
It was a quarter to six, giving me another five minutes, so I thought I might as well use them on her.
I opened up, friendly, but although she seemed to be willing to risk a little more chat with me, I didn’t really get any facts.
All I learned was what I already knew, that she had no reason to suppose that Clara Fox had lifted the jack, and that if there was a frame-up she wasn’t in on it.
When the five minutes was up I turned to go, and at that moment the door opened and Muir came in.
Seeing us, he stopped, then came on again, to his desk.
“You may go, Miss Barish.
If you want to talk with me, Goodwin, sit down.”
Miss Barish disappeared into her room.
I said,
“I won’t keep you now, Mr. Muir.
I suppose you’ll be here in the morning?”
“Where else would I be?”
That kind of childishness never riles me.
I grinned at the old goat, said, “Okay,” and left him.
Outside in the corridor, down a few paces toward the directors’ room, a group of four or five men stood talking.
I saw Perry was among them, and approached.
He saw me and came to meet me.
I said,
“Nothing more tonight, Mr. Perry.
Let’s let Mr. Muir have a chance to cool off.
I’ll report to Nero Wolfe.”
Perry frowned.
“He can phone me at my home any time this evening.
It’s in the book.” “Thanks. I’ll tell him.”
As I passed Miss Vawter on my way out, still sitting in the corner with her magazine, I said to her out of the side of my mouth,
“See you at the Rainbow Room.”
Chapter 4
Down on the sidewalk the shades of night were not keeping the metropolitan bipeds from the swift completion of their appointed rounds.
Striding north toward 3^ th Street, I let the brain skip from this to that and back again, and decided that the spot Clara Fox was standing on was probably worse than hot, it was sizzling.