And Be a Villain by Rex Stout

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 back 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 program, 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.”
    Wolfe leaned back, closed his eyes, pursed his lips, and in a moment began:
    “Regarding the murder of Cyril Orchard, I send you this information by Mr. Goodwin, who is taking Miss Nancylee Shepherd to you. He will explain how Miss Shepherd was brought to New York from Atlantic City. Paragraph.
    “I suggest that Miss Madeline Fraser should be arrested without