And Be a Villain by Rex Stout Page B

you what I was guessing I’ll have to tell you something I promised Miss Fraser I would never tell anybody.”
    Wolfe nodded. “As I said. Shielding Miss Fraser.”
    “I’m not shielding her! She doesn’t have to be shielded!”
    “Don’t get hysterical again. What was it you guessed?”
    “I want to phone her.”
    “Of course you do. To warn her. So she can get away.”
    Nancylee slapped a palm on his desk.
    “Don’t do that!” he thundered.
    “You’re such a stinker!”
    “Very well. Archie lock her in the bathroom and phone Mr. Cramer to send for her.”
    I stood up, but she paid no attention to me. “All right,” she said, “then I’ll tell her how you made me tell, and my mother can tell her, too. When they got the new glasses I didn’t know why, but I noticed right away, the broadcast that day, about the bottles too. That day Miss Vance didn’t take eight bottles, she only took seven. If it hadn’t been for that I might not have noticed, but I did, and when they were broadcasting I saw that the bottle they gave Miss Fraser had a piece of tape on it. And every time after that it has always been seven bottles, and they always give Miss Fraser the one with tape on it. So I thought there was some connection, the new glasses and the tape on the bottle, but I was just guessing.”
    “I wish you’d sit down, Miss Shepherd. I don’t like tipping my head back.”
    “I wouldn’t care if you broke your old neck!”
    “Now, Nan,” her mother moaned.
    Nancylee went to the red leather chair and lowered herself onto the edge of it.
    “You said,” Wolfe murmured, “that you promised Miss Fraser not to tell about this. When did you promise, recently?”
    “No, a long time ago. Months ago. I was curious about the tape on the bottle, and one day I asked Miss Vance about it, and afterward Miss Fraser told me it was something very personal to her and she made me promise never to tell. Twice since then she has asked me if I was keeping the promise and I told her I was and I always would. And now here I am! But you saying she should be arrested for murder … just because I said I didn’t know …”
    “I gave other reasons.”
    “But she won’t be arrested now, will she? The way I’ve explained?”
    “We’ll see. Probably not.” Wolfe sounded comforting. “No one has ever told you what the tape is on the bottle for?”
    “No.”
    “Haven’t you guessed?”
    “No, I haven’t, and I’m not going to guess now. I don’t know what it’s for or who puts it on or when they put it on, or anything about it except what I’ve said, that the bottle they give Miss Fraser has a piece of tape on it. And that’s been going on a long time, nearly a year, so it couldn’t have anything to do with that man getting murdered just last week. So I hope you’re satisfied.”
    “Fairly well,” Wolfe conceded.
    “Then may I phone her now?”
    “I’d rather you didn’t. You see she has hired me to investigate this murder, and I’d prefer to tell her about this myself—and apologize for suspecting her. By the way, the day Mr. Orchard was poisoned—did Miss Fraser’s bottle have tape on it that day as usual?”
    “I didn’t notice it that day, but I suppose so, it always did.”
    “You’re sure you didn’t notice it?”
    “What do you think? Am I lying again?”
    Wolfe shook his head. “I doubt it. You don’t sound like it. But one thing you can tell me, about the tape. What was it like and where was it on the bottle?”
    “Just a piece of Scotch tape, that’s all, around the neck of the bottle, down nearly to where the bottle starts to get bigger.”
    “Always in the same place?”
    “Yes.”
    “How wide is it?”
    “You know, Scotch tape, about that wide.” She held a thumb and fingertip about half an inch apart.
    “What color?”
    “Brown—or maybe it looks brown because the bottle is.”
    “Always the same color?”
    “Yes.”
    “Then it couldn’t have been very conspicuous.”
    “I