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246 pages, Paperback
First published October 12, 1951
She stood far enough off so that I would have had to make three good bounds to grab her, and it is only fair to say that it might have been worth the effort. She was three inches shorter, some years older, and at least ten pounds plumper than my ideal for grabbing, but with her dark twinkling eyes in her round little face she was by no means homely.
I phoned Wolfe at 3:23 from a booth in a drugstore somewhere in Glendale. It is always a pleasure to hear him say ‘Satisfactory’ when I have reported on an errand. This time he did better. When I had given him all of it that he needed, including the letter written by Dykes that I had in my pocket and the one written by Mrs. Potter that I had just put an air mail stamp on and dropped in the slot at the Glendale Post Office, there was a five-second silence and then an emphatic ‘Very satisfactory.’
Suddenly I blew up. I sprang to my feet and roared, ‘G____m it, go to work! Think of something! Do something!’
Without opening his eyes, he muttered, ‘And I said it was satisfactory to have you back.’
There was just a chance she might fake indignation, or she might be coy, or she might even pretend not to know who it was. Nothing doing. She was still her – too short, too plump, and too old, but the one and only Mrs. Potter. . . What the hell, I thought, in another twenty years Bubblehead [Archie’s name for Mr. Potter] may be dead, and age and contours won’t matter much, and I’ll grab her.