He looked at me, but I couldn’t meet him because he seemed to be focusing about a foot below my chin. “I do that sixteen times a day,” he said. “Every hour while I’m awake. It helps a little. A year ago I could barely stand, and now I can take five or six steps. Your name’s Goodwin?”
“Right.”
“My brother-in-law said you wanted to see me.”
I nodded. “That’s not strictly accurate, but it will do. He wanted me to see you. My name’s Archie Goodwin, and I work for Nero Wolfe, the detective, and your—”
“Oh! You’re that Goodwin?”
“Right. Your brother-in-law called at Mr. Wolfe’s office today and wanted to engage his services. He says that his sister—”
A door off to the right opened, and a young woman my age came stepping in, with papers in her hands. She was fair, with gray-green eyes, and as a spectacle there wasn’t a thing wrong with her, at a glance. Halfway across to the wheelchair she stopped and inquired, “Will you sign the letters now, Mr. Huck?”
“Later, Miss Riff.” He was a little crisp. “Later will do.”
“You said — I thought perhaps—”
“There’s no hurry.”
“Very well. I’m sorry if I interrupted.”
She turned and was gone, closing the door behind her so gently that there was no noise at all. I asked Huck, “That was Dorothy Riff?”
“Yes. Why?”
“I was telling you. Mr. Lewent says his sister promised him that in case of her death he would get a substantial sum. That was about a year before she died, and he is certain she would not have failed to arrange to keep her promise.”
Huck was shaking his head. “He heard her will read, and he saw it.”
“He says she told him she wouldn’t put it in her will because that would have violated a promise she had made her father. He thinks she left it in someone’s care for him — not you, he says, for you would have followed her instructions fully and promptly. He suspects it was Miss Riff or Miss Marcy or Mrs. O’Shea, and he wants Mr. Wolfe to investigate the matter, but he says it can be investigated only with your knowledge and consent, and that’s why he asked you to see me. Also Mr. Wolfe thought—”
Another door swung open, this time the one by which Lewent and I had entered from the hall, and another female was with us. On a guess she was somewhat younger than Dorothy Riff, but it was hard to tell with her nurse’s uniform setting off her big dark eyes and dark brown hair. Stopping for no questions, she crossed to a cabinet, got out a glass, a thermos carafe, and a bottle of Solway’s twenty-year liqueur striped-label scotch, put on ounce from the bottle and two ounces from the carafe into the glass, no ice, and went and handed it to Huck and got thanked.
She asked him in a low, cooing voice, “Everything under control?”
“Fine.”
“Your two-thirty exercise?”
“Of course.”
She left us, having given me just one swift glance. When the door was closed again Huck spoke. “This is medicine for me every two hours, but will you have some?”
“No, thanks. That was Sylvia Marcy?”
“Yes. You were saying that Mr. Wolfe thought—”
I resumed. “He thought that before I talk with the three women — with your permission, of course — you might be willing to let us have your opinion on a few points. For instance, do you think it likely that your wife made some such arrangement as Mr. Lewent suspects? Can you recall ever hearing her say anything hinting at such a thing? Her accounts for the months before she died — say a year — do they show a withdrawal of any unusual amount, either cash or securities? And most important, Mr. Wolfe thinks, which of those three women would your wife have been most likely to choose for such a purpose?”
Huck may have thought he was looking straight at me, but if so his aim was still low. “My brother-in-law has never mentioned this to me,” he said stiffly.
I nodded. “He says he was afraid of offending you. But now, since a year has passed and it is evident that all you have for him is the request in your wife’s will that his needs be considered, he feels that the matter should be looked into, so far as it can be without any inconvenience or embarrassment to you.”
“How could it embarrass me?”
“I don’t know. You’re a very wealthy man, and Miss Riff and Miss Marcy and Mrs. O’Shea work for you and live in your house, and I suppose Mr. Lewent thought you might not like my asking them an assortment of leading questions.”
“Miss Riff doesn’t live here.”
“The other two do?”
“Yes.”
“Do you regard them all as upright and trustworthy?”
“Yes.”
“This might help. Are you yourself so certain of the character of any one of them that you would eliminate her entirely from consideration in a matter of this kind?”
He twisted and stretched an arm to put his medicine glass on the table, and, turning back to me, was opening his mouth to reply when the door to the hall opened again and we had another visitor. This time I wasn’t sure. There had been no question about the secretary or nurse the moment they appeared, but I had not expected to see the housekeeper in a gay figured dress, white and two shades of blue. Also, though she was a little farther along than the other two, she was by no means a crone. She had medium brown hair and deep blue eyes, and there was a faint touch of hip-swinging in her walk. She came as for a purpose, straight to the front of the wheelchair, bent over from the hips, and tucked in the edge of the shawl around Huck’s feet. I watched Huck’s eyes. They went to her, naturally, but they seemed more preoccupied than pleased.
She straightened up and spoke. “All right, sir?”
“Yes, thank you, Mrs. O’Shea.”
“Any orders?”
“No, nothing.”
She wheeled a quarter-turn to face me, and did a take. Her look was too brief to be called deliberate, but there sure was nothing furtive about it. I thought I might as well let her have a grin, but before my muscles reacted to deliver it she was through and was on her way. From the rear the hip-swing was more perceptible than from the front. As I viewed it I reflected that they had certainly wasted no time in giving a stranger a once-over. Entering and ascending with Lewent, I had had sight, sound, or smell of none of them, but now all three had galloped in before I had been with Huck more than fifteen minutes. If they were too jealous for a mutual intelligence pact it must have been radar.
When the door was shut again Huck spoke. “You asked some questions. I think it very unlikely that my wife made any such arrangement as you describe. She certainly never hinted at it to me. As far as I know, during the last year of her life she made no withdrawal of cash or securities not accounted for, but I’ll be glad to tell the accountants to check it. Although I do not accuse my brother-in-law of fabrication, I strongly suspect that he grossly misunderstood something my wife said to him. However, since he has consulted Nero Wolfe and you are here, I’m willing to humor him, the poor devil. Do you want to see them separately or together?”
“Together for a start.”
“How long will it take? You’ll finish today?”
“I hope to. I want to, but I don’t know.”
He regarded me, started to say something, decided not to, and pressed a button. Instantly the shebang leaped forward like a bronco out of a chute, missing my feet by maybe eight inches with one of its big balloon tires as it swept by. Huck was steering with a lever. Stopping beside the door to the hall, he reached for the knob and pulled the door wide, and the chair circled and passed through. I was on my feet and following when his bellow came.