It was easy to see how desperate Wolfe was from the way he confined himself, up to lunch time, to skating around the edges, getting her used to his voice and manner and to hearing him ask any and every kind of question. By the time Fritz summoned us to the dining-room I couldn't see that he had got the faintest flicker of light from any direction.
When we were back in the office and settled again, with Mom in her same chair and Nancylee dragging on a cigarette as if she had been at it for years, Wolfe resumed as before, but soon I noticed that he was circling in toward the scene of the crime. After getting himself up to date on the East Bronx Fraser Girls'
Club and how Nancylee had organized it and put it at the top, he went right on into the studio and began on the Fraser broadcasts. He learned that Nancylee was always there on Tuesday, and sometimes on Friday too. Miss Fraser had promised her that she could get on a live mike some day, at least for a line or two. On the network! Most of the time she sat with the audience, front row, but she was always ready to help with anything, and frequently she was allowed to, but only on account of Miss Fraser. The others thought she was a nuisance.
“Are you?” Wolfe asked.
“You bet I am! But Miss Fraser doesn't think so because she knows I think she's the very hottest thing on the air, simply super, and then there's my club, so you see how that is. The old ego mego.”
You can see why I'd like to be fair and just to her.
Wolfe nodded as man to man. “What sort of things do you help with?”
“Oh.” She waved a hand. “Somebody drops a page of script, I pick it up. One of the chairs squeaks, I hear it first and bring another one. The day it happened, I got the tray of glasses from the cabinet and took them to the table.”
“You did? The day Mr Orchard was a guest?”
“Sure, I often did that.”
“Do you have a key to the cabinet?”
“No, Miss Vance has. She opened it and got the tray of glasses out.” Nancylee smiled. “I broke one once, and did Miss Fraser throw a fit? No definitely. She just told me to bring a paper cup, that's how super she is.”
“Marvellous. When did that happen?”
“Oh, a long while ago, when they were using the plain glasses, before they changed to the dark blue ones.”
“How long ago was it?”
“Nearly a year, it must be.” Nancylee nodded. “Yes, because it was when they first started to drink Starlite on the programme, and the first few times they used plain clear glasses and then they had to change-”
She stopped short.
“Why did they have to change?”
“I don't know.”
I expected Wolfe to pounce, or at least to push. There was no doubt about it.
Nancylee had stopped herself because she was saying, or starting to say, something that she didn't intend to let out, and when she said she didn't know she was lying. But Wolfe whirled and skated off: “I suspect to get them so heavy they wouldn't break.” He chuckled as if that were utterly amusing. “Have you ever drunk Starlite, Miss Shepherd?”
“Me? Are you kidding? When my club got to the top they sent me ten cases.
Truckloads!”
“I don't like it much. Do you?”
“Oh…I guess so. I guess I adore it, but not too much at a time. When I get my programme and have Shepherd Clubs I'm going to work it a different way.” She frowned. “Do you think Nancylee Shepherd is a good radio name, or is Nan Shepherd better, or should I make one up? Miss Fraser's name was Oxhall, and she married a man named Koppel but he died, and when she got into radio she didn't want to use either of them and made one up.”
“Either of yours,” Wolfe said judiciously, “would be excellent. You must tell me some time how you're going to handle your clubs. Do you think Starlite has pepper in it?”
“I don't know, I never thought. It's a lot of junk mixed together. Not at all frizoo.”
“No,” Wolfe agreed, “not frizoo. What other things do you do to help out at the broadcasts?”
“Oh, just like I said.”
“Do you ever help pass the glasses and bottles around-to Miss Fraser and Mr Meadows and the guests?”
“No, I tried to once, but they wouldn't let me.”
“Where were you-the day we're talking about-while that was being done?”
Sitting on the piano bench. They want me to stay in the audience while they're on the air, but sometimes I don't.”
“Did you see who did the passing-to Mr Orchard, for instance?”
Nancylee smiled in good-fellowship. “Now you'd like to know that, wouldn't you?
But I didn't. The police asked me that about twenty million times.”
“No doubt. I ask you once. Do you ever take the bottles from the cabinet and put them in the refrigerator?”
“Sure, I often do that-or I should say I help. That's Miss Vance's job, and she can't carry them all at once, so she has to make two trips, so quite often she takes four bottles and I take three.”
“I see. I shouldn't think she would consider you a nuisance. Did you help with the bottles that Tuesday?”
“No, because I was looking at the new hat Miss Fraser had on, and I didn't see Miss Vance starting to get the bottles.”
“Then Miss Vance had to make two trips, first four bottles and then three?”
“Yes, because Miss Fraser's hat was really something for the preview. Utterly first run! It had-”
“I believe you.” Wolfe's voice sharpened a little, though perhaps only to my experienced ear. “That's right, isn't it, first four bottles and then three?”
“Yes, that's right.”
“Making a total of seven?”
“Oh, you can add!” Nancylee exclaimed delightedly. She raised her right hand with four fingers extended, then her left hand with three, and looked from one to the other. “Correct. Seven!”
“Seven,” Wolfe agreed. “I can add, and you can, but Miss Vance and Mr Meadows can't. I understand that only four bottles are required for the programme, but that they like to have extra ones in the refrigerator to provide for possible contingencies. But Miss Vance and Mr Meadows say that the total is eight bottles. You say seven. Miss Vance says that they are taken from the cabinet to the refrigerator in two lots, four and four. You say four and three.”
Wolfe leaned forward. “Miss Shepherd.” His voice cut. “You will explain to me immediately, and satisfactorily, why they say eight and you say seven. Why?”
She didn't look delighted at all. She said nothing.
“Why?” It was the crack of a whip.
“I don't know!” she blurted.
I had both eyes on her, and even from a corner of one, with the other one shut, it would have been as plain as daylight that she did know, and furthermore that she had clammed and intended to stay clammed.
“Pfui.” Wolfe wiggled a finger at her. “Apparently, Miss Shepherd, you have the crackbrained notion that whenever the fancy strikes you you can say you don't know, and I'll let it pass. You tried it about the glasses, and now this. I'll give you one minute to start telling me why the others said the customary number of bottles taken to the refrigerator is eight, and you say seven. Archie, time it.”
I looked at my wrist, and then back at Nancylee. But she merely stayed a clam.
Her face showed no sign that she was trying to make one up, or even figuring what would happen if she didn't. She was simply utterly not saying anything. I let her have an extra ten seconds, and then announced: “It's up.”
Wolfe sighed. “I’m afraid, Miss Shepherd, that you and your mother will not return to Atlantic City. Not today. It is-”
A sound of pain came from Mom-not a word, just a sound. Nancy cried: “But you promised-”
“No. I did not. Mr Goodwin did. You can have that out with him, but not until after I have given him some instructions.” Wolfe turned to me. “Archie, you will escort Miss Shepherd to the office of Inspector Cramer. Her mother may accompany you or go home, as she prefers. But first take this down, type it, and take it with you. Two carbons. A letter to Inspector Cramer.”