She is short and is wearing a negligee that permits her to widen out freely all the way around and she has straw-colored hair and a large smile and while she is by no means a beautiful, still you cannot say she is a crow. In fact, I am somewhat surprised when Ambrose asks her if she is Mrs. Bidkar and she states that she is, as I am expecting a genuine old komoppo. We enter an elegantly furnished living room and she asks our business, and Ambrose says:
"Well, Mrs. B.," he says, "you almost get a good break when old Doc News drops dead after you stake his wife to the poison because it looks as if you have her where she can never wiggle off no matter what she says. But," Ambrose says, "my friend Mrs. News is cute enough to seek my advice and counsel."
"Yes?" Mrs. Bidkar says. "And who are you?" "Never mind," Ambrose says. "I am here to tell you that if you are present in these parts tomorrow morning you will find yourself in the canneroo."
At this, Mrs. Bidkar stops smiling and a very hard look indeed comes into her eyes and she says:
"Listen, guy, whoever you are," she says. "If you are a friend of Mrs. News you will tell her to get it on the line at once and save herself trouble. I may go to jail," she says, "but so will she and I can stand it better than she can because I am there before, and anyway the charge against me will not be poisoning my husband."
"Mrs. Bidkar," Ambrose says, "you know Mrs. News does not poison her husband."
"No?" Mrs. Bidkar says. "Who does, then? They cannot pin it on me because Mrs. News herself claims she spills the stuff I give her and which she thinks is cyanide but which is really nothing but water, so she must get something else to do the job. Her own statement lets me out. But if you take her story that she does not poison him at all, you must be dumber than she is, although," Mrs. Bidkar says, "I will never believe such a thing is possible."
"Water, hey?" Ambrose says. 'Well, Mrs. Bidkar," he says, "I can see that you really believe Mrs. News is guilty of this poisoning, so I will have to show you something I have here," he says, "a little document from the medical examiner stating that an autopsy on the remains of the late Dr. Brumby News discloses no sign of poison whatever. You can confirm this by calling up the district attorney, who has the autopsy performed and who is still very angry at me for putting him to a lot of bother for nothing," Ambrose says.
"An autopsy?" Mrs. Bidkar says, taking the paper and reading it. "I see. Tomorrow morning, do you say? Well," she says, "you need not mind looking in again as I will be absent. Good day," she says.
Then Ambrose and I take our departure and when we are going along the street I suddenly think of something and I say to him like this:
"An autopsy, Ambrose?" I say. "Why, such an action indicates that you never entirely believe Mrs. News yourself, does it not?"
"Oh," Ambrose says, "I believe her, all right, but I always consider it a sound policy to look a little bit behind a beautiful's word on any proposition. Besides, cyanide has an odor and I do not remember noticing such an odor in the Canary Club and this makes me wonder somewhat about Mrs. News when I begin looking the situation over. But," Ambrose says, "of course Mrs. Bidkar clears this point up. Do you know what I am wondering right this minute? I am wondering what ever happens to Mrs. Bidkar's husband," he says.
Well, personally I do not consider this a matter worth thinking about, so I leave Ambrose at a corner and I do not see him again for weeks when we get together in the Canary Club for another dinner, and while we are sitting there who comes past our table without her mourning and looking very gorgeous indeed but Mrs. Brumby News.
When she sees Ambrose she stops and gives him a large good evening and Ambrose invites her to sit down and she does same but she states that she is on a meet with a friend and cannot remain with us long. She sits there chatting with Ambrose about this and that and he is so attentive that it reminds me of something and I say to him like this:
"Ambrose," I say, "I understand the course of your true love with Hilda may soon be smoothed out. I hear Hiffenbrower is in a hospital and may not be with us much longer. Well," I say, "let me be the first to congratulate you."
Now Mrs. News looks up and says:
"Hilda?" she says. "Hiffenbrower?" she says. "Why, this is the name of the other girl at Mrs. Bidkar's I am never able to remember. Yes, Hilda Hiffenbrower."
Naturally, I am greatly surprised and I gaze at Ambrose and he nods and says:
"Yes," he says, "I know it from the day I begin my investigation, but," he says, "I am too greatly shocked and pained to mention the matter. She becomes acquainted with Mrs. Bidkar the same way Mrs. News does. Hilda is always quick to learn and personally I feel that Hiffenbrower makes a mistake in not canceling her out as the beneficiary of his insurance when they first separate. It is unfair to place great temptation before any beautiful and," Ambrose says, "especially Hilda."
"Well," he says, "Hiffenbrower is suffering from prolonged doses of powdered glass in his cereal but you are wrong about his condition. They are laying even money he beats it, although of course his digestion may be slightly impaired. I hear the cops trace Hilda to South America. Oh, well," Ambrose says, "I am through with the beautifuls forever. Mrs. N., do you care to push a rumba around with me?"
"No," Mrs. News says, "here comes my friend. I think you meet him before. In fact," she says, "you are responsible for us gettingm together by sending me to the theater on the free tickets that night."
And who is the friend but this Brogan Wilmington, the playwright, whose play is now running along quite successfully and making plenty of beesom in spite of what Ambrose states about it, and as Mrs. News gets up from the table to join him, Brogan Wilmington gazes at Ambrose and says to him like this:
"Bah," Brogan Wilmington says.
"Bah right back to you," Ambrose says, and then he begins going through his pockets looking for something.
"Now where do I put those phone numbers of Mrs. Smythe and Mrs. Brown?" Ambrose says.