Rex Stout - Nero Wolfe by Three at Wolfe's Door Page A

the next twenty years, or even twenty hours. Wolfe owned the house but not everything in it, for the furniture in my room on the third floor had been bought and paid for by me. That would have to wait until I found a place to move it to, but I would get my clothes and other items tomorrow, and would I come for them before eleven o’clock and learn from Fritz whether a visitor named Anderson was expected, or would it be better strategy to come in the afternoon and learn if Anderson had been admitted and given his fifteen minutes? Facing that problem as I pulled the door open, I was immediately confronted by another one. A female was coming up the seven steps to the stoop.
II
    I couldn’t greet her and ask her business, since it was a cinch she would say she wanted to see Nero Wolfe and I couldn’t carry on with a job I no longer held by returning to the office to ask Wolfe if he would receive acaller. Anyway I wouldn’t. I couldn’t step aside and let her enter by the door I had opened with no questions asked, since there was a possibility that she was one of the various people who had it in for Wolfe, and while I might have considered shooting him myself I didn’t want to get him plugged by a total stranger. So I crossed the sill, pulled the door shut, sidestepped to pass her, and was starting down the steps when my sleeve was caught and jerked.
    â€œHey,” she said, “aren’t you Archie Goodwin?”
    My eyes slanted down to hers. “You’re guessing,” I said.
    â€œI am not. I’ve seen you at the Flamingo. You’re not very polite, shutting the door in my face.” She spoke in jerks, as if she wasn’t sure she had enough breath. “I want to see Nero Wolfe.”
    â€œThis is his house. Ring the bell.”
    â€œBut I want to see you too. Let me in. Take me in.”
    My eyes had adjusted enough to the poor light to see that she was young, attractive, and hypped. She had on a cap with a beak. In normal circumstances it would have been a pleasure to escort her into the front room and go and badger Wolfe into seeing her, but as things stood I didn’t even consider it. “I’m sorry,” I said, “but I don’t work here any more. I just quit. I am now on my way to bum a bed for the night. You’ll have to ring the bell, but I should warn you that in Mr. Wolfe’s present mood there’s not a chance. You might as well skip it. If your trouble is urgent you ought to—”
    â€œI’m not in trouble.”
    â€œGood. You’re lucky.”
    She touched my sleeve. “I don’t believe it. That you’ve quit.”
    â€œI do. Would I say so if I hadn’t? Running the risk that you’re a journalist and tomorrow there will be afront-page spread, ‘Archie Goodwin, the famous private detective, has severed his connection with Nero Wolfe, also a detective, and it is thought—”’
    â€œShut up!” She was close to me, gripping my arm. She let loose and backed up a step. “I beg your pardon. I seem to be … you think Nero Wolfe wouldn’t see me?”
    â€œI don’t think. I know.”
    â€œAnyway I want to see you too. For what I want I guess you would be better than him. I want some advice—no, not advice exactly, I want to consult you. I’ll pay cash, fifty dollars. Can’t we go inside?”
    Naturally I was uplifted. Since I had left Wolfe, and since there was no other outfit in New York I would work for, my only possible program was to set up for myself, and before I even got down to the sidewalk here was a pretty girl offering me fifty bucks just for consultation.
    â€œI’m afraid not,” I told her, “since I no longer belong here. If that’s your taxi waiting that will do fine, especially with the driver gone.” A glance had shown me that there was no one behind the wheel of the cab at the curb. Probably, having been told to