“I can’t promise to keep a secret if it is a guilty one — if it is a confession of a crime or knowledge of one.”
“It isn’t.”
“Then you have my promise, and Mr. Goodwin’s. We have kept many secrets.”
“All right. I stabbed Vincent Pyle with a knife and got blood on me.”
I stared. For half a second I thought she meant that he hadn’t died of poison at all, that she had sneaked upstairs and stuck a knife in him, which seemed unlikely since the doctors would probably have found the hole.
Apparently she wasn’t going on, and Wolfe spoke. “Ordinarily, Miss Iacono, stabbing a man is considered a crime. When and where did this happen?”
“It wasn’t a crime because it was in self-defense.” Her rich contralto was as composed as if she had been telling us the multiplication table. Evidently she saved the inflections for her career. She was continuing. “It happened in January, about three months ago. Of course I knew about him, everybody in show business does. I don’t know if it’s true that he backs shows just so he can get girls, but it might as well be. There’s a lot of talk about the girls he gets, but nobody really knows because he was always very careful about it. Some of the girls have talked but he never did. I don’t mean just taking them out, I mean the last ditch. We say that on Broadway. You know what I mean?”
“I can surmise.”
“Sometimes we say the last stitch, but it means the same thing. Early last winter he began on me. Of course I knew about his reputation, but he was backing Jack in the Pulpit and they were about to start casting, and I didn’t know it was going to be a flop, and if a girl expects to have a career she has to be sociable. I went out with him a few times, dinner and dancing and so forth, and then he asked me to his apartment, and I went. He cooked the dinner himself — I said he was very careful. Didn’t I?”
“Yes.”
“Well, he was. It’s a penthouse on Madison Avenue, but no one else was there. I let him kiss me. I figure it like this, an actress gets kissed all the time on the stage and the screen and TV, and what’s the difference? I went to his apartment three times and there was no real trouble, but the fourth time, that was in January, he turned into a beast right before my eyes, and I had to do something, and I grabbed a knife from the table and stabbed him with it. I got blood on my dress, and when I got home I tried to get it out but it left a stain. It cost forty-six dollars.”
“But Mr. Pyle recovered.”
“Oh, yes. I saw him a few times after that, I mean just by accident, but he barely spoke and so did I. I don’t think he ever told anyone about it, but what if he did? What if the police find out about it?”
Wolfe grunted. “That would be regrettable, certainly. You would be pestered even more than you are now. But if you have been candid with me you are not in mortal jeopardy. The police are not simpletons. You wouldn’t be arrested for murdering Mr. Pyle last night, let alone convicted, merely because you stabbed him in self-defense last January.”
“Of course I wouldn’t,” she agreed. “That’s not it. It’s my mother and father. They’d find out about it because they would ask them questions, and if I’m going to have a career I would have to leave home and my family, and I don’t want to. Don’t you see?” She came forward in the chair. “But if they find out right away who did it, who poisoned him, that would end it and I’d be all right. Only I’m afraid they won’t find out right away, but I think you could if I helped you, and you said last night that you’re committed. I can’t offer to help the police because they’d wonder why.”
“I see.” Wolfe’s eyes were narrowed at her. “How do you propose to help me?”
“Well, I figure it like this.” She was on the edge of the chair. “The way you explained it last night, one of the girls poisoned him. She was one of the first ones to take a plate in, and then she came back and got another one. I don’t quite understand why she did that, but you do, so all right. But if she came back for another plate that took a little time, and she must have been one of the last ones, and the police have got it worked out who were the last five. I know that because of the questions they asked this last time. So it was Peggy Choate or Nora Jaret or Carol Annis or Lucy Morgan.”
“Or you.”
“No, it wasn’t me.” Just matter-of-fact. “So it was one of them. And she didn’t poison him just for nothing, did she? You’d have to have a very good reason to poison a man, I know I would. So all we have to do is find out which one had a good reason, and that’s where I can help. I don’t know Lucy Morgan, but I know Carol a little, and I know Nora and Peggy even better. And now we’re in this together, and I can pretend I want to talk about it. I can talk about him because I had to tell the police I went out with him a few times, because I was seen with him and they’d find out, so I thought I’d better tell them. Dozens of girls went out with him, but he was so careful that nobody knows which ones went to the last ditch except the ones that talked. And I can find out which one of those four girls had a reason, and tell you, and that will end it.”
I was congratulating myself that I hadn’t got her phone number; and if I had got it, I would have crossed it off without a pang. I don’t say that a girl must have true nobility of character before I’ll buy her a lunch, but you have to draw the line somewhere. Thinking that Wolfe might be disgusted enough to put into words the way I felt, I horned in. “I have a suggestion, Miss Iacono. You could bring them here, all four of them, and let Mr. Wolfe talk it over with them. As you say, he’s very clever.”
She looked doubtful. “I don’t believe that’s a good idea. I think they’d be more apt to say things to me, just one at a time. Don’t you think so, Mr. Wolfe?”
“You know them better than I do,” he muttered. He was controlling himself.
“And then,” she said, “when we find out which one had a reason, and we tell the police, I can say that I saw her going back to the kitchen for another plate. Of course just where I saw her, where she was and where I was, that will depend on who she is. I saw you, Mr. Wolfe, when I said you could if I helped you, I saw the look on your face. You didn’t think a twenty-year-old girl could help, did you?”
He had my sympathy. Of course what he would have liked to say was that it might well be that a twenty-year-old hellcat could help, but that wouldn’t have been tactful.
“I may have been a little skeptical,” he conceded. “And it’s possible that you’re over-simplifying the problem. We have to consider all the factors. Take one: her plan must have been not only premeditated but also thoroughly rigged, since she had the poison ready. So she must have known that Mr. Pyle would be one of the guests. Did she?”
“Oh, yes. We all did. Mr. Buchman at the agency showed us a list of them and told us who they were, only of course he didn’t have to tell us who Vincent Pyle was. That was about a month ago, so she had plenty of time to get the poison. Is that arsenic very hard to get?”
“Not at all. It is in common use for many purposes. That is of course one of the police lines of inquiry, but she knew it would be and she is no bungler. Another point: when Mr. Pyle saw her there, serving food, wouldn’t he have been on his guard?”
“But he didn’t see her. They didn’t see any of us before. She came up behind him and gave him that plate. Of course he saw her afterward, but he had already eaten it.”