A Right To Die by Rex Stout

there earlier. You might even have met her, by design or accident, and gone to the apartment with her on some pretext.”
    “Possible.” Oster pursed his lips, considering it, then jerked his chin up, and I thought he had decided to take charge. But he only said, “Are you going to ignore the fact that someone besides Miss Tiger knew about the message?”
    “No. I was keeping that for later, but if you want it now& ” Wolfe’s eyes went right. “He means you, of course, Miss Jordan. You left the office at five-thirty. How did you spend the next three hours?”
    There was a flash in her eyes that I didn’t know she had. “I didn’t spend it killing anybody,” she snapped.
    “Good. Nor, I hope, at any other mischief. You must have told the police; why not tell me'Miss Tiger did.”
    “Oh, I’ll tell you. What I told them. I stopped at three places on the way home to buy some things-a book, and stockings, and cream and bread and pickles-and went home and cooked my supper, and ate it, and read the book until I went to bed.”
    “What book?”
    “_The Group._ By Mary McCarthy.”
    Wolfe made a face. He had read two chapters and ditched it. “Where do you live?”
    “I have a little apartment on Forty-seventh Street near Lexington Avenue. I’m alone in the world.”
    “At least you’re aware of it. Many people aren’t. Now, madam, a point we haven’t dealt with yet. What is your feeling about a Negro marrying a white woman?”
    The flash again. “That’s none of your business.”
    “My personal business, no. But it’s of urgent concern to me as the man hired by Mr. Whipple to find out who killed Susan Brooke. If you have a reason to refuse to answer, I-“
    “I have no reason. It’s impertinent, that’s all. Everyone at the ROCC knows how I feel about it, and other people too. Anyone has a right to marry anyone. It’s a right. Marrying the woman of your choice or the man of your choice is a God-given right.”
    “Then you didn’t resent the relationship between Mr. Whipple and Miss Brooke?”
    “It was none of my business. Except I thought if she married him all her money would be devoted to the cause, and that would be wonderful.”
    “We all thought that,” Cass Faison said. “Or nearly all.”
    “Not me,” Adam Ewing said. “I’m the exception. From the public-relations viewpoint, I thought it would be unwise. I knew it would be. I can say here exactly how I feel, I’ve said it to bigger crowds than this, and some of them mixed. Sex and money are at the bottom of all the opposition to civil rights, just as they’re at the bottom of everything else. Black and white marrying is like a red rag to a bull.” He gestured. “But I wouldn’t kill a woman to stop it. I’m not a killer. Let the opposition do the killing.”
    “I’m an exception too,” Beth Tiger said. “I didn’t think it would be wonderful.”
    “You agree with Mr. Ewing?”
    “That’s not it. I just say I didn’t think it would be wonderful. That’s all I’m going to say.”
    “Miss Kallman?”
    Rae Kaliman shook her head but didn’t open her mouth.
    “Does that mean you disapproved?”
    “No. It means I said to Susan what I had to say. She was the only one I had any right to say it to, and she’s dead. The police couldn’t drag it out of me, and neither can you.”
    “Then I won’t try. Mr. Henchy?”
    He cleared his throat. If I had been with him on the bourbon, I would have had to clear mine twice. “On the whole, I approved. Marriage is a very personal matter, but insofar as the interests of the organization were concerned I was in agreement with Mr. Faison. I thought the advantages would outweigh the disadvantages. In my position I must be realistic. Miss Brooke was a very wealthy woman.” He reached for his glass.
    “And you, Mr. Oster?”
    The lawyer cocked his head. “You know, Wolfe, I’m sitting here taking it in. I’m giving you all the rope you want. But asking me how I feel about a Negro