The Mother Hunt (Rex Stout Library)

That you have hired me to make an investigation for you, and I wish to talk with them.

But then… She was frowning. Archie told me to tell no one, not even my best friend.

Mr. Goodwin was following instructions. On further consideration I have concluded that the risk must be taken. You say that your husband knew hundreds of people you have never met. I trust that the hundreds' was an overestimate, but if there are dozens I must have every name. You say you hate it the way it is now. Confound it, madam, so do I. If I had known the job would develop thus a murder, and my involvement, and routine fishing in a boundless sea I wouldn't have taken it. I must see the three or four men who are best qualified to complete the list of your husband's acquaintances, and to give me information about him which you do not have. After you and Mr. Goodwin select them, will you get them here?

She was hating it even more. What do I say when they ask what you're investigating for me?

Say I'll explain to them. Of course that will be ticklish. Certainly there will be no mention by me of the baby left in your vestibule with that message. That there is a baby in your house is probably more widely known than you suspect, but if one or more of them asks about it I shall say that is immaterial. When I decide precisely what I'll tell them you will be informed, before I see them, and if you have objections they will be considered. He swiveled to look at the clock. Half an hour till dinner. He swiveled back. You and Mr. Goodwin will decide this evening on the three or four men to be chosen from among your husband's familiars. I would like to see them either at eleven tomorrow morning or at nine tomorrow evening. You will also compile the list of women's names. But one question now: will you please tell me where you were last Friday evening? From eight o'clock on?

Her eyes widened. Friday?

He nodded. I have no ground whatever, madam, to doubt your good faith. But I now have to deal with someone who doesn't flinch from murder, and it isn't wholly inconceivable that you are a Jezebel. Ellen Tenzer was killed Friday around midnight. Where were you?

Lucy stared. But you don't… you couldn't think…

Wildly improbable but conceivable. You should be gratified that I consider it imaginable that you have gulled me by a superb display of wile and guile.

She tried to smile. You have a strange idea of what gratifies people. She looked at me. Why didn't you ask me this yesterday?

I meant to but forgot.