I picked up the phone and called Carolyn Kaiser. When she answered I said, “Miz Kaiser, this is Jimmie. I’m up at Miz Tremaine’s at the Charlemagne.”

“You got the wrong number,” my quick-witted henchperson said. “Wait a minute. Did you say-Bernie? Is that you?”

“Right, the delivery,” I said. “Same as before. She says she don’t know any Donald Brown and she don’t think the flowers are for her. Right.”

“You’re calling from somebody’s apartment.”

“That’s the idea,” I said.

“Is she suspicious of you?”

“No, the thing is she doesn’t know who this guy is.”

“What’s it all about, Bern? Are you just killing time?”

“Right.”

“You want me to talk to her? I’ll tell her What’s-his-face paid cash and he gave her name and address. Gimme the names again.”

“Donald Brown. And she’s Leona Tremaine.”

“Gotcha.”

I handed the phone to Ms. Tremaine, who’d been hovering. She said, “Hello? to whom am I speaking, please?” and then she said things like “Yes” and “I see,” and “But I don’t-” and “It’s so mysterious.” And then she gave the phone back to me.

“Someday,” said Carolyn, “all of this will be crystal clear to me.”

“Sure thing, Miz Kaiser.”

“Same to you, Mr. Rhodenbarr. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I hung up. Leona Tremaine said, “‘Curiouser and curiouser, said Alice.’ Your Donald Brown is a tall, gray-haired gentleman, elegantly dressed, who carried a cane and paid for both deliveries with a pair of crisp twenty-dollar bills. He did not give his address.” Her face softened. “Perhaps it’s someone I knew years ago,” she said quietly. “Under another name, perhaps. And perhaps I’ll hear further from him. I’m sure to hear further from him, wouldn’t you say?”

“Well, if he went to all this trouble-”

“Exactly. He would scarcely go to such lengths merely to remain forever mysterious. Oh, dear,” she said, and fluffed her auburn hair. “Such unaccustomed excitement.”