Rex Stout - Red Box, The

“No. She doesn't go until one o'clock.”

“Is she inside?”

“Sure.” He glanced at his watch. “She won't go for nearly half an hour.”

“Okay.” I nodded thanks and moseyed off. I had a notion to hunt up some oats for a gobble, but decided it would be better to stick around. I lit a cigarette and strolled to the corner of Fifth Avenue, and across the street, and back toward

Madison a ways. Apparently the public was still interested in the place where the beautiful model was poisoned, for I noticed people slowing up and looking at the McNair entrance as they passed by, and now and then some stopped. The mounted cop was hanging around. I went on sauntering in the neighborhood, not getting far away.

At five minutes after one she came out, alone, and headed east. I tripped along, and crossed the street, and got behind her. A little before she got to Madison I snapped out:

“Miss Frost!”

She whirled on a dime. I took off my hat.

“Remember me? My name's Archie Goodwin. I'd like to have a few words-”

“This is outrageous!” She turned and started off.

She was quite a sketch. As independent as a hog on ice. I took a hop, skip and jump, and planted the frame square in front of her. “Listen. You're more childish even than your cousin Lew. I merely need, in performance of my duty, to ask you a couple of questions. You're on your way to get something to eat. I'm hungry and have to eat myself sooner or later. I can't invite you to lunch, because I wouldn't be allowed to put it on my expense account, but I can sit at a table with you for four minutes and then go elsewhere to eat if that is your desire. I am a self-made man, and am a roughneck but not rowdy. I graduated from high school at the age of seventeen and only a few months ago I gave two dollars to the Red Cross.”

On account of my firm aggressive talk people were looking at us, and she knew it. She said, “I eat at Moreland's, around the corner on Madison. You can ask your questions there.”

One trick in. Moreland's was one of those dumps where they slice roast beef as thin as paper and specialize on vegetable plates. I let Helen Frost find a table, and trailed along and slid into a chair opposite her after she had sat down.

She looked at me and said, “Well?”

I said, “The waitress will hover. Order your lunch.”

“I can order later. What do you want?”

A sketch all right. But I stayed pleasant. “I want to take you to 918 West 35th

Street for a conversation with Nero Wolfe.”

She stared at me. “That's ridiculous. What for?”

I said mildly, “We have to be there at two o'clock, so we haven't much time.

Really, Miss Frost, it would be much more human if you'd get something to eat and let me do the same, while I explain. I'm not something revolting, like a radio crooner or an agent for the Liberty League.”

“I…I'm not hungry. I can see you're funny. A month ago I would have thought you were a scream.”

I nodded. “I'm a knockout.” I beckoned to a waitress and consulted the card.

“What will you have, Miss Frost?”

She ordered some kind of goo, and hot tea, and I favored the pork and beans, with a glass of milk.

With the waitress gone, I said, “There are lots of ways I could do this. I could scare you. Don't think I couldn't. Or I could try to persuade you that since your cousin is our client, and since Nero Wolfe is as square with a client as you would be with your twin if you had one, it's to your own interest to go and see him. But there's a better reason for your going than either of those.

Ordinary decency. Whether Wolfe was right or wrong about what you said yesterday at McNair's doesn't matter. The point is that we've kept it to ourselves. You saw this morning what terms we're on with the police; they had me handling that test for them. But have they been ragging you on what you said yesterday? They have not. On the other hand, are you going to have to discuss it with someone-sooner or later? You're darned tooting you are, there's no way out of it. Who do you want to discuss it with? If you take my advice, Nero Wolfe, and the sooner the better. Don't forget that Miss Mitchell heard you say it too, and although she may be a good friend of yours-”

“Please don't talk any more.” She was looking at her fork, which she was sliding back and forth on the tablecloth, and I saw how tight her fingers gripped it. I sat back and looked somewhere else.

The waitress came and began depositing food in front of us. Helen Frost waited until she was through, and gone, and then said more to herself than to me, “I can't eat.”

“You ought to.” I didn't pick up my tools. “You always ought to eat. Try it, anyhow. I've already eaten, I was only keeping you company.” I fished for a dime and a nickel and laid them on the table. “My car is parked on 52nd, halfway to

Park Avenue, on the downtown side. I'll expect you there at a quarter to two.”

She didn't say anything. I beat it and found the waitress and got my check from her, paid at the desk, and went out. Across the street and down a little I found a drug store with a lunch counter, entered, and consumed two ham sandwiches and a couple of glasses of milk. I wondered what they would do with the beans, whether they would put them back in the pot, and thought it would be a crime to waste them. I didn't wonder much about Helen Frost, because it looked to me like a pipe, all sealed up. There wasn't anything else for her to do.

There wasn't. She came up to me at ten minutes to two, as I stood on the sidewalk alongside the roadster. I opened the door and she got in, and I climbed in and stepped on the starter.

As we rolled off I asked her, “Did you eat anything?”

She nodded. “A little. I telephoned Mrs. Lament and told her where I'm going and said I'd be back at three o'clock.”

“Uh-huh. You may make it.”

I drove cocky because I felt cocky. I had her on the way and the sandwiches hadn't been greasy and it wasn't two o'clock yet; and even down in the mouth and with rings under her eyes, she was the kind of riding companion that makes it reasonable to put the top down so the public can see what you've got with you.

Being a lover of beauty, I permitted myself occasional glances at her profile, and observed that her chin was even better from that angle than from the front.

Of course there was an off chance that she was a murderess, but you can't have everything.

We made it at one minute past two. When I ushered her into the office there was no one there, and I left her there in a chair, fearing the worst. But it was okay. Wolfe was in the dining-room with his coffee cup emptied, doing his postprandial beaming at space. I stood on the threshold and said:

“I trust the fritters were terrible. Miss Frost regrets being one minute late for her appointment. We got to chatting over a delicious lunch, and the time just flew.”

“She's here? The devil.” The beam changed to a frown as he made preparations to arise. “Don't suppose for a moment that I am beguiled. I don't really like this.”