Rex Stout: Red Box, The

McNair frowned at her and demanded, “What?”

She took a breath. “That 1241 resort-”

“Oh. I heard you. It cannot. The line stands, Mrs. Lament. You know that.”

“I know. Mrs. Frost wants it.”

McNair straightened up. “Mrs. Frost? Is she here?”

The woman nodded. “She's ordering. I told her you were engaged. She's taking two of the Portsmouth ensembles.”

“Oh. She is.” McNair had suddenly stopped fidgeting, and his voice, though still thin, sounded more under command. “I want to see her. Ask if it will suit her convenience to wait till I'm through here.”

“And the 1241 in two shades of Shetland-”

“Yes. Of course. Add fifty dollars.”

The woman nodded, excused herself again, and departed.

McNair glanced at his wrist watch, shot a sharp one at young Frost, and looked at Wolfe. “You can still have ten minutes.”

Wolfe shook his head. “I won't need them. You're nervous, Mr. McNair. You're upset.”

“What? You won't need them?”

“No. You probably lead too active a life, running around getting women dressed.”

Wolfe shuddered. “Horrible. I would like to ask you two questions. First, regarding the death of Molly Lauck, have you anything to add to what you have told Mr. Cramer and Mr. Frost? I know pretty well what that is. Anything new?”

“No.” McNair was frowning. He picked up his handkerchief and wiped his forehead.

“No. Nothing whatever.”

“Very well. Then it would be futile to take up more of your time. The other question: may I be shown a room where some of your employees may be sent to me for conversation? I shall make it as brief as possible. Particularly Miss Helen

Frost, Miss Thelma Mitchell, and Mrs. Lament. I don't suppose Mr. Perren Gebert happens to be here?”

McNair snapped, “Gebert? Why the devil should he be?”

“I don't know.” Wolfe lifted his shoulders half an inch, and dropped them. “I ask. I understand he was here one week ago yesterday, the day Miss Lauck died, when you were having your show. I believe you call it a show?”

“I had a show, yes. Gebert dropped in. Scores of people were here. About talking with the girls and Mrs. Lament- if you make it short you can do it here. I have to go down to the floor.”

“I would prefer something less-more humble. If you please.”

“Suit yourself.” McNair got up. “Take them to one of the booths, Lew. I'll tell

Mrs. Lamont. Do you want her first?”

“I'd like to start with Miss Frost and Miss Mitchell. Together.”

“You may be interrupted, if they're needed.”

“I shall be patient.”

“All right. You tell them, Lew?”

He looked around, grabbed his handkerchief from the desk and stuffed it in his pocket, and bustled out.

Llewellyn Frost, rising, began to protest, “I don't see why you didn't-”

Wolfe stopped him. “Mr. Frost. I endure only to my limit. Obviously, Mr. McNair is sick, but you cannot make that claim to tolerance. Don't forget that you are responsible for this grotesque expedition. Where is this booth?”

“Well, I'm paying for it.”

“Not adequately. You couldn't. Come, sir!”

Frost led us out and back down the corridor, and opened the door at the end on the left. He switched on lights, said he would be back soon, and disappeared. I moved my eyes. It was a small paneled room with a table, a smoking stand, full-length mirrors, and three dainty silk chairs. Wolfe stood and looked at the mess, and his lips tightened.

He said, “Revolting. I will not-I will not.”

I grinned at him. “I know damn well you won't, and for once I don't blame you.

I'll get it.”

I went out and strode down the corridor to McNair's office, entered, heaved his chair to my shoulder, and proceeded back to the booth with it. Frost and the two goddesses were going in as I got there. Frost went for another chair, and I planked my prize down behind the table and observed to Wolfe, “If you get so you like it we'll take it home with us.” Frost returned with his contribution, and I told him, “Go and get three bottles of cold light beer and a glass and an opener. We've got to keep him alive.”

He lifted his brows at me. “You're crazy.”

I murmured, “Was I crazy when I suggested that letter from the orchid guys? Get the beer.”

He went. I negotiated myself into a chair with the blonde pippin on one side and the sylph on the other. Wolfe was sniffing the air. He suddenly demanded:

“Are all of these booths perfumed like this?”

“Yes, they are.” The blonde smiled at him. “It's not us.”

“No. It was here before you came in. Pfui. And you girls work here. They call you models?”

That's what they call us. I'm Thelma Mitchell.” The blonde waved an expert graceful hand. “This is Helen Frost.”

Wolfe nodded, and turned to the sylph. “Why do you work here, Miss Frost? You don't have to. Do you?”

Helen Frost put level eyes on him, with a little crease in her brow between them. She said quietly, “My cousin told us you wished to ask us about-about

Molly Lauck.”

“Indeed.” Wolfe leaned back, warily, to see if the chair would take it. There was no creak, and he settled. “Understand this, Miss Frost: I am a detective.

Therefore, while I may be accused of incompetence or stupidity, I may not be charged with impertinence. However nonsensical or irrelevant my questions may seem to you, they may be filled with the deepest significance and the most sinister implications. That is the tradition of my profession. As a matter of fact, I was merely making an effort to get acquainted with you.”

Her eyes stayed level. “I am doing this as a favor to my cousin Lew. He didn't ask me to get acquainted.” She swallowed. “He asked me to answer questions about last Monday.”

Wolfe leaned forward and snapped, “Only as a favor to your cousin? Wasn't Molly

Lauck your friend? Wasn't she murdered? You aren't interested in helping with that?”

It didn't jolt her much. She swallowed again, but stayed steady.

“Interested-yes. Of course. But I've told the police-I don't see what Lew-I don't see why you-” She stopped herself and jerked her head up and demanded,

“Haven't I said I'll answer your questions? It's awful-it's an awful thing-”

“So it is.” Wolfe turned abruptly to the blonde. “Miss Mitchell. I understand that at twenty minutes past four last Monday afternoon, a week ago yesterday, you and Miss Frost took the elevator together, downstairs, and got out at this floor. Right?”

She nodded.

And there was no one up here; that is, you saw no one. You walked down the corridor to the fifth door on the left, across the corridor from Mr. McNair's office, and entered that room, which is an apartment used as a rest room for the four models who work here. Molly Lauck was in there. Right?”