I laid the pencil and notebook on the desk and got up.
Llewellyn arose and stood like a pigeon.
I noticed that all his aunt did was lift one brow a little.
Dudley Frost laughed.
“Now, Mr. Wolfe.
Sit down boys.” He goggled at Wolfe. “God bless me, I don't blame you for trying to make an impression. Quite a natural-”
“Mr. Frost.” Wolfe wiggled a finger. “Your suggestion that I need to fake a phone call to impress your son is highly offensive.
Retract it, or go.”
Frost laughed again. “Well, let's say you did it to impress me.” “That, sir, is worse.” “Then my sister-in-law. Are you impressed, Calida? I must admit I am.
This is what it looks like.
Mr. Wolfe wants ten thousand dollars.
If he doesn't get it he intends to see Inspector Cramer-where and when doesn't matter-and tell him that Helen has said she saw that box of candy before Molly Lauck did. Of course Helen didn't tell him that, but that won't keep the police from tormenting her, and possibly the rest of us, and it might even get into the papers.
In my position as the trustee of Helen's property, my responsibility is as great as yours, Calida, though she is your daughter.”
He turned to goggle at his son.
“It's your fault, Lew. Absolutely.
You offered this man Wolfe his opportunity.
Haven't you time and time again-”
Wolfe leaned far forward in his chair and reached until the tip of his finger hovered delicately within an inch of the brown tweed of Mrs. Frost's coat. He appealed to her:
“Please. Stop him.”
She shrugged her shoulders.
Her brother-in-law was going right on.
Then abruptly she rose from her chair, stepped around behind the others, and approached me.
She came close enough to ask quietly,
“Have you any good Irish whiskey?”
“Sure,” I said. “Is that it?”
She nodded.
“Straight. Double. With plain water.”
I went to the cabinet and found the bottle of Old Corcoran. I made it plenty double, got a glass of water, put them on a tray stand, and took it over and deposited it beside the orator's chair.
He looked at it and then at me.
“What the deuce is it?
What?
Where's the bottle?”
He lifted it to his off-center nose and sniffed.
“Oh!
Well.” His eyes circled the group. “Won't anyone join me?
Calida?
Lew?” He sniffed the Irish again. “No?
To the Frosts, dead and alive, God bless 'em!”
He neither sipped it nor tossed it off, but drank it like milk.
He lifted the glass of water and took a dainty sip, about half a teaspoonful, put it down again, leaned back in his chair and thoughtfully caressed his moustache with the tip of his finger.
Wolfe was watching him like a hawk.
Mrs. Frost asked quietly,
“What is that about Inspector Cramer?”
Wolfe shifted to her.
“Nothing, madam, beyond what your nephew has told you.”
“He is coming here to consult with you?”
“So he said.”
“Regarding the…the death of Miss Lauck?”
“So he said.”
“Isn't that…” She hesitated. “Is it usual for you to confer with the police about the affairs of your clients?”