Rex Stout - Red Box, The

I leave here I'll come straight home but I can't tell now when that will be…Don't worry about that, and for heaven's sake give me credit for having a little sense…No…Good-bye…”

She had color in her face again as she arose and returned to her seat. Wolfe had narrow eyes on her. He murmured sympathetically: “You don't like people fussing about you, do you, Miss Frost? Even your mother. I know. But you must tolerate it. Remember that physically and financially you are well worth some fuss.

Mentally you are-well-in the pupa stage. I hope you don't mind my discussing you.”

“It would do me no good to mind it.”

“I didn't say it would. I only said I hoped you didn't. About your inheritance;

I presume it will be turned over to you when you come of age on May seventh.”

“I presume it will.”

“That is only five weeks off. Twenty-nine, thirty-six-five weeks from tomorrow.

Two million dollars. Another responsibility for you. Will you continue to work?”

“I don't know.”

“Why have you been working? Not for income surely.”

“Of course not. I work because I enjoy it. I felt silly not doing anything. And

Uncle Boyd-Mr. McNair-it happened that there was work there I could do.”

“How long-confound it. Excuse me.”

It was the telephone again. I swiveled and picked it up and started my usual salutation, “Hello, this is the office-”

“Hello! Hello there! I want to speak to Nero Wolfe!”

I made a face at my desk calendar; this was a voice I knew too. I turned on the aggressiveness: “Don't bark like that. Mr. Wolfe is engaged. This is Goodwin, his confidential assistant. Who-”

“This is Mr. Dudley Frost! I don't care if he is engaged, I want to speak to him at once! Is my niece there? Let me speak to her! Let me speak to Wolfe first!

He's going to be sorry-”

I roughened up: “Listen, mister, if you don't turn off that valve a little I'll hang up on you. I mean it. Mr. Wolfe and Miss Frost are having a conversation, and I refuse to disturb them. If you want to leave a message-”

“I insist on speaking to Wolfe!”

“You C, A, N, apostrophe, T, can't. Don't be childish.”

“I'll show you who's childish! You tell Wolfe-tell him that I am my niece's trustee. She is under my protection. I will not have her annoyed. I'll have

Wolfe and you too arrested as nuisances! She is a minor! I'll have you prosecuted-”

“Listen, Mr. Frost. Will you listen? What you say is okay. Let me suggest that you have Inspector Cramer do the arresting, because he's been here often and knows the way. Furthermore, I'm going to hang up now, and if you aggravate me by keeping this phone ringing, I'll hunt you up and straighten your nose for you. I mean that with all my heart.”

I cradled the instrument, picked up my notebook and turned and said curtly,

“More fuss.”

Helen Frost said in a strained voice, because she didn't like to have to ask,

“My cousin?”

“No. Your uncle. Your cousin comes next.”

Which was truer and more imminent than I knew. Her mouth opened at me as if for another question, but she decided against it. Wolfe resumed:

“I was about to ask, how long have you been working?”

“Nearly two years.” She leaned forward at him. “I'd like to ask…is this…going on indefinitely? You're just trying to provoke me…”

Wolfe shook his head. “I'm trying not to provoke you. I'm collecting information, possibly none of it germane, but that's my affair.” He glanced at the clock. “It's a quarter past three. At four o'clock I shall ask you to accompany me to my plant rooms on the roof; you'll find the orchids diverting. I should guess we shall be finished by six. I assure you, I'm going through with this. I intend to invite Mr. McNair to call on me this evening. If he finds that inconvenient, then tomorrow. If he refuses, Mr. Goodwin will go to his place in the morning and see what can be done. By the way, I need to be sure that you will be there tomorrow. You will?”

“Of course. I'm there every- Oh! No. I won't be there. The place will be closed.”

“Closed? A Thursday? April second?”

She nodded. “Yes, April second. That's why. That's the date Mr. McNair's wife died.”

“Indeed. And his daughter born?”

She nodded again. “He…he always closes up.”

“And visits the cemetery?”

“Oh, no. His wife died in Europe, in Paris. Mr. McNair is a Scotsman. He only came to this country about twelve years ago, a little after mother and I came.”

“Then you spent part of your childhood in Europe?”

“Most of it. The first eight years. I was born in Paris, but my father and mother were both Americans.” She tilted up her chin. “I'm an American girl.”

“You look it.” Fritz brought more beer, and Wolfe poured some. “And after twenty years Mr. McNair still shuts up shop on April second in memory of his wife. A steadfast man. Of course, he lost his daughter also-when she was two, I believe you said-which completed his loss. Still he goes on dressing women…well. Then you won't be there tomorrow.”

“No, but I'll be with Mr. McNair. I…do that for him. He asked it a long time ago, and mother let me, and I always do it. I'm almost exactly the same age his daughter was. Of course I don't remember her, I was too young.”

“So you spend that day with him as a vicar for his daughter.” Wolfe shivered.

“His mourning day. Ghoulish. And he puts diamonds on you. However…you are aware, of course, that your cousin, Mr. Llewellyn Frost, wants you to quit your job. Aren't you?”

“Perhaps I am. But that isn't even any of my business, is it? It's his.”

“Certainly. Hence mine, since he is my client. Do you forget that he hired me?”

“I do not.” She sounded scornful. “But I can assure you that I am not going to discuss my cousin Lew with you. He means well. I know that.”

“But you don't like the fuss.” Wolfe sighed. The foam had gone from his beer, and he tipped a little more in the glass, lifted it, and drank. I sat and tapped with my pencil on my notebook and looked at Miss Frost's ankles and the hint of shapeliness ascending therefrom. I wasn't exactly bored, but I was beginning to get anxious, wondering if the relapse germ was still working on Wolfe's nerve centers. Not only was he not getting anywhere with this hard-working heiress, it didn't sound to me as if he was half trying. Remembering the exhibitions I had seen him put on with others-for instance, Nyura Pronn in the Diplomacy Club business-, I was beginning to harbor a suspicion that he was only killing time.

At anything like his top form, he should have had this poor little rich girl herded into a corner long ago. But here he was…

I was diverted by the doorbell buzz and the sound of Fritz's footsteps in the hall going to answer it. The idea popped into my head that Mr. Dudley Frost, not liking the way I had hung up on him, might be dropping around to get his nose straightened, and in a sort of negligent way I got solider in my chair, because