Some Buried Caesar

I propped myself against the edge of the dahlia table across the aisle and yawned. Dissatisfaction filled my breast. I had failed to bring what I had been sent for, which was infrequent and irritating. I had been relieved of $66.20 of Wolfe's money. We were going to dine and sleep that night in a house where family and relatives were preparing for a funeral. Wolfe had just stated that in the murder case we were supposed to be solving we had nothing left but shreds. Alto- gether, the outlook was not rosy. Wolfe and Shanks went on chewing the rag, paying no attention to the visitors passing up and down the aisle, and I stood propped, with no enthusi- asm for any effort to combat the gloom. I must have shut my eyes for the first I knew there was a tug at my sleeve and a voice:

"Wake up, Escamillo, 'and show me the flowers."

I let the lids up. "How do you do. Miss Rowan. Go away. I'm in seclusion."

"Kiss me."

I bent and deposited a peck on her brow. "There. Thank you for calling. Nice to see you."

"You're a lout."

"I have at no time asked you to submit bids."

The comer of her mouth went up. "This is a public ex- position. I paid my way in. You're an exhibitor. Go ahead and exhibit. Show me."

"Not exhibitionist. Exhibitor. Anyway, I'm only an em- ployee." I took her elbow and eased her across the aisle. "Mr. Wolfe, you know Miss Rowan, She wants to be shown the orchids."

He bowed. "That is one compliment I always surrender to."

She looked him in the eye. "I want you to like me, Mr. Wolfe. Or not dislike me. Mr. Goodwin and I are probably going to be friends. Will you give me an orchid?"

"I rarely dislike women, and never like them. Miss Rowan. I have only albinos here. I'll give you orchids at 5 o'clock, after the judging, if you'll tell me where to send them."

"I'll come and get them."

The upshot of that was that she went to lunch with us.