In the Best Families

One afternoon when I went to Rusterman's Restaurant to see Marko Vukcic he signed the cheques I had brought for telephone and electricity bills and my weekly salary, and then asked me what the bank balance was. I told him a little over twenty-nine thousand dollars, but I sort of regarded Mrs Rackham's ten grand as more or less in bond, so I would rather call it nineteen.

“Could you bring me a cheque for five thousand tomorrow? Drawn to cash.

“Glad to. But speaking as the book-keeper, what do I charge it to?

“Why-expense.

“Speaking as a man who may some day have to answer questions from an internal revenue snoop, whose expense and what kind?

“Call it travel expense.

“Travel by whom and to where?

Marko made some kind of a French noise, or foreign at least, indicating impatience, I think. “Listen, Archie, I have a power of attorney without limit.

Bring me a cheque for five thousand dollars at your convenience. I am stealing it from my old friend Nero to spend on beautiful women or olive oil.

So I was not entirely correct when I said that I got no word at all from Wolfe during those weeks and months, but you must admit it was pretty vague. How far a man gets on five grand, and where he goes, depends on so many things.

When I returned to the office from a morning walk on the third day of May, a

Wednesday, and called the phone-answering service as usual, I was told there had been three calls but only one message-to ring a Mount Kisco number and ask for

Mrs Frey. I considered the situation, told myself the thing to do was skip it, and decided that I must be hard of hearing when I became aware that I had dialled the operator and asked for the number. Then, after I had got it and spelled my name and waited a minute, Annabel Frey's voice was in my ear. At least the voice said it was her, but I wouldn't have recognised it. It was sort of tired and hopeless.

“You don't sound like you, I told her.

“I suppose not, she conceded. “It seems like a million years since you came that day and we watched you being a detective. You never found out who poisoned the dog, did you?

“No, but don't hold it against me. I wasn't expected to. You may have heard that that was just a blind.

“Yes, of course. I don't suppose Nero Wolfe is back?

“Nope.

“You're running his office for him?

“Well, I wouldn't call it running. I'm here.

“I want to see you.

“Excuse me for staring, but do you mean on business?