Black Orchids

"Nothing to brag about," I told her. "There's a slew of fingerprints on that letter and envelope, but since you discussed it with your brother and nephew and the girls and Dr. Brady, I suppose they all handled it. Did they?"

"Yes."

I shrugged. "So. Maryella showed Mr. Wolfe how to make corned beef hash. The secret is chitlins. Aside from that, nothing to report. Except that Janet knows that you think she's it. Also she wanted that picture."

"What picture?"

"The snapshot of her you told me to throw in the wastebasket. It caught her eye and she wanted it. Is there any objection to her having it?"

"Certainly not."

"Is there anything you want to say about it? That might help?"

"No, that picture has nothing to do with it. I mean that wouldn't help you any."

"Dr. Brady was requested to call at our office at two o'clock today but was too busy."

Bess Huddleston went to a window and looked out and came back. "He wasn't too busy to come and ride one of my horses," she said tartly. "They ought to be back soon-I thought I heard them at the stable…"

"Will he come to the house?"

"He will. For cocktails."

"Good. Mr. Wolfe told me to say that there is a remote chance there might be prints on the other letter. The one the rich man got."

"It isn't available."

"Couldn't you get it?"

"I don't think so."

"Has he turned it over to the police?"

"Good heavens, no!"

"Okay. I've played tag with Mister and had a talk with your nephew. Now if I could see where Janet keeps her stationery, and take a sample from that typewriter. Is that the one?"

"Yes. But first come to Janet's room. I'll show you."

I followed her. It was at the other end of the house, on that floor, one flight up, a pleasant little room and nice and neat. But the stationery was a washout. It wasn't in a box. It was in a drawer of a writing table with no lock on it, and all you had to do was open the drawer with a metal ring for a puller, which couldn't possibly have had a print, and reach in and take what you wanted, paper and envelopes both. Bess Huddleston left me there, and after a look around where there was nothing to look for, I went back to the office. Daniel was still there on the chair where we had left him. I ran off some sample lines on the typewriter, using a sheet of Janet's paper, and was putting it in my pocket when Daniel spoke:

"You're a detective."

I nodded. "That's what they tell me."

"You're finding out who sent those anonymous letters."

"Right." I snapped my fingers. "Just like that."