Over My Dead Body

The taxi bumped across Sixth Avenue and scooted ahead for Fifth, along Bryant Park. Nearing the library, he called to the driver, "Stop at the kerb and leave the meter on." As we rolled to a standstill I said, "You'd better kept the rest of your dough to pay the fare with."

He sat and glared at me in silence. Finally he blurted, "Look here, I can't take you to her. I can't do that. I'll tell you what I'll do: You wait right here, and I'll take another cab and be back here with her inside of twenty minutes."

I stared at him. "The reason I don't talk," I told him, "is because I'm speechless. Holy heaven!"

"What's wrong with that? I give you my word-"

"I don't want it. Cut the comedy and let's go."

He glared some more. I permitted it for a full minute and then got impatient. "I'll count up to twenty-nine," I said, "one for each year of my life and one to grow on and one to get married on, and then-"

"Wait a minute." He was approaching the pleading stage. "The reason I can't take you to her is a personal reason. I don't intend to try any deception; I can't. You know damn well the hole I'm in. What about this? You go with me to a phone booth, and I'll call her up and tell her to meet us-"

I shook my head emphatically. "No. A thousand times no. Quit trying to wiggle off the hook. How do I know but what you've got a code with her to use in emergencies? Remember I'm ignorant. I don't even know but what Wolfe has got it figured out that she killed Ludlow and, in that case…" I shrugged. "I'm only a puppet and I'm under orders. For God's sake, shut up and let's go."

He curled his fingers to make fists. "I can just open this door and beat it. You know?"

"Go ahead. Don't let me stop you. Then I could phone Wolfe and go on home."

"But, goddam it, if you hear me phone-"

"Shut up! I'm bored stiff."

He gave me one more good long glare and then leaned forward and gave the driver an address on Madison Avenue, not ten blocks away. The driver nodded and got going again.