The Twelve Crimes of Christmas by Martin H. Greenberg et al (Ed) Read Free Book Online Page B

head. “You, with so much sense. You must see that it’s
no use. If I tell them, even if they don’t like to believe me they will investigate.
I know they can’t investigate as well as you can, but surely they will find
something.”
    He
shut his eyes, tightened his lips, and leaned back in his chair. I kept mine
open, on her. She weighed about a hundred and two. I could carry her under one
arm with my other hand clamped on her mouth. Putting her in the spare room
upstairs wouldn’t do, since she could open a window and scream, but there was a
cubbyhole in the basement, next to Fritz’s room, with an old couch in it. Or,
as an alternative, I could get a gun from my desk drawer and shoot her.
Probably no one knew she had come here.
    Wolfe
opened his eyes and straightened up. “Very well. It is still fantastic, but I
concede that you could create an unpleasant situation by taking that yarn to
the police. I don’t suppose you came here merely to tell me that you intend to.
What do you intend?’
    “I
think we understand each other,” she chirped.
    “I
understand only that you want something. What?”
    “You
are so direct,” she complained. “So very abrupt, that I must have said
something wrong. But I do want something. You see, since the police think it
was the man who acted Santa Claus and ran away, they may not get on the right
track until it’s too late. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”
    No
reply.
    “I
wouldn’t want it,” she said, and her hands on her lap curled into little fists.
“I wouldn’t want whoever killed Kurt to get away, no matter who it was, but you
see, I know who killed him. I have told the police, but they won’t listen until
they find Santa Claus, or if they listen they think I’m just a jealous cat, and
besides, I’m an Oriental and their ideas of Orientals are very primitive. I was
going to make them listen by telling them who Santa Claus was, but I know how
they feel about you from what I’ve read, and I was afraid they would try to
prove it was you who killed Kurt, and of course it could have been you, and you
did run away, and they still wouldn’t listen to me when I told them who did
kill him.”
    She
stopped for breath. Wolfe inquired. “Who did?”
    She
nodded. “I’ll tell you. Margot Dickey and Kurt were having an affair. A few
months ago Kurt began on me, and it was hard for me because I—I—” She frowned
for a word, and found one. “I had a feeling for him. I had a strong feeling.
But you see, I am a virgin, and I wouldn’t give in to him. I don’t know what I
would have done if I hadn’t known he was having an affair with Margot, but I did
know, and I told him the first man I slept with would be my husband. He said he
was willing to give up Margot, but even if he did he couldn’t marry me on
account of Mrs. Jerome, because she would stop backing him with her money. I
don’t know what he was to Mrs. Jerome, but I know what she was to him.”
    Her
hands opened and closed again to be fists. “That went on and on, but Kurt had a
feeling for me too. Last night late, it was after midnight, he phoned me that
he had broken with Margot for good and he wanted to marry me. He wanted to come
and see me, but I told him I was in bed and we would see each other in the
morning. He said that would be at the studio with other people there, so
finally I said I would go to his apartment for breakfast, and I did, this
morning. But I am still a virgin, Mr. Wolfe.”
    He
was focused on her with half-closed eyes. “That is your privilege, madam.”
    “Oh,”
she said. “Is it a privilege? It was there, at breakfast, that he told me about
you, your arranging to be Santa Claus. When I got to the studio I was surprised
to see Margot there, and how friendly she was. That was part of her plan, to be
friendly and cheerful with everyone. She has told the police that Kurt was
going to marry her, that they decided last night to get married next week. Christmas
week. I am a