Over My Dead Body

The two Balkans were there, three paces off. The glances that passed back and forth among the four of them, in one second, obviously meant something to them but not to me. Belinda Reade said, "Come on, Don," and he followed her in the direction of the office. I surveyed the pair of girls. Carla had put a long loose thing with buttons over her fencing costume. Neya had on the green robe, carelessly closed as before, with one hand inside its folds apparently clinging to it.

"There is no time to talk," I snapped. "You may be a couple of goons. I don't know. But I'm asking you a damn straight question, and maybe your life depends on giving me a straight answer." I took Neva's eyes with mine. "You. Did you kill that man?"

"No."

"Say it again. You didn't?"

"No."

I switched to Carla. "Did you?"

"No. But I must tell you-"

"There's no time to tell me anything. That's the hell of it. But anyhow you can-there they are! Beat it! Quick, damn it!"

They scampered down the hall towards the office and were gone by the time the cops got through the vestibule. It was a pair of flatfeet. I opened the glass-panelled door and when they were in the hall let it close again.

"Hello. Precinct?"

"No. Radio patrol. Who are you?"

"Archie Goodwin, private detective from Nero Wolfe's office, happened to be here. I was sitting on the lid. I'll keep." I pointed. "Back in the office is Mrs Miltan and others, and two flights up is a corpse."

"God, you're snappy. Sit on the lid a little longer, will you? Come on, Bill."

They tramped to the rear. I stood and played with my fingers. In about two minutes one of them tramped down the hall again and went upstairs. In another two minutes there were fresh arrivals in the vestibule, three dicks in plain clothes, but one glance was enough to tell that they were precinct men, not homicide squad. I gave them a brief picture of it. One of them relieved me at the door, another went for the stairs, and the third went to the office and took me with him.