Over My Dead Body

There was the explanation of the second police car. Over in a corner was a dick looking bored, and on one of the yellow leather chairs sat Neya Tormic, not looking bored. The way her eyes darted at me, I had to control an impulse to side-step to get out of the line of fire.

The dart was a question, and I knew what it was, but I ignored it and spoke to Fred Durkin, who was seated at my desk:

"Get out of my chair, you big bum, and come out here and help me a minute."

He arose and lumbered across, and I steered him into the hall and shut the office door.

"Are Wolfe and Cramer upstairs?"

"Yes."

"Anyone in the front room?"

"No."

"Stand here and hold this door-knob, in case that dick should get a sudden notion to stretch his legs."

He got his paw on it, and I went to the kitchen. Fritz put down a pan he was stirring and came close to me and whispered, "In the pantry." I pushed the swinging door and there she was, on a chair he had put there for her, with the parcel at her feet. I got the parcel and told her to follow me and keep quiet. In the hall Fred was hanging on to the door-knob and I winked at him as we passed. Up one flight of stairs, down the hall six paces, through a door-and I closed it behind us, turned on the light, put the parcel on a table, and shut the window curtains.

"Hvala Bogu," I said. "This is Mr Wolfe's room. Don't leave it. If you open a window, bells ring all over the house. It's five thirty-five, and he will be here shortly after six. You might as well put your own clothes on. That door there is a bathroom. Okay?"

She just looked at me, and I saw she was concentrating so hard on keeping a stiff jaw that she couldn't even nod her head, so I went on out. At the head of the stairs I called down, "All right, Fred, go back in and try another chair," and then proceeded to the next flight up. Two of them took me to the narrow door at the top which opened into the plant-rooms. I had to go all the way through to the potting-room to find Wolfe. He was at the bench with Theodore, inspecting some recent sprouts with a magnifying glass, and Cramer was on a stool with his back propped against the wall, chewing on a cigar.

I hoisted myself on to the free end of the bench and sat swinging my legs. In a few minutes Wolfe came out of a coma, shook his head disapprovingly at something he saw through the glass, sighed, and muttered at me, "Did you get the goose?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good."