Archie in the Crosshairs

by Robert Goldsborough

  Mason, whom I assumed to be the owner, rubbed his palms together and stood, a grin creasing his face. “I believe I may have just the thing, Mr. Goodwin,” he said, heading toward the back of the store as Marlene Peters got her purse from under the counter and ran a comb though her hair. Mason returned holding a small book with a calfskin binding and gilt edging. “This is a limited-edition number of Great Expectations that is as well made as any Dickens volume I’ve seen come through here in years,” he said. “It was printed in London about 1910. Here’s what I can let you have it for,” he said, naming a price. The amount was about what I normally spent on Wolfe’s birthday gift, so we had ourselves a deal. Marlene wrapped the book in silver gift paper with a red ribbon while I paid Mason.

  As we walked out, he said, “Marlene, why don’t you tell Mr. Goodwin about some of the other treasures that we have here? Who knows, maybe we can make a regular customer of him.”

  “Your boss seems like a nice guy,” I said as we walked along Second Avenue toward a coffee shop Marlene had suggested.

  “He is; he’s just wonderful to work for. His wife died about a year ago, and none of his children live anywhere near New York, so the shop is pretty much his whole life now.”

  “Have you been there for a long time?”

  “Not at all, I began just a couple of months ago,” she said as we entered the café. “I want to work for a publishing company, someday as an editor, I hope, and I’ve got a lot of résumés out. Mr. Mason knows that, but he agreed to hire me even if it’s only for a short time. The girl who was there before left to go back to college, so he needed someone as a replacement. The pay is not great, but I enjoy the place, and it’s close to where I live.”

  We settled into a booth, and I insisted that Marlene order dinner. “This is on me,” I told her. “I dragooned you into seeing me, so the least I can do is to feed you for your trouble.”

  “Dragooned. What an unusual term,” she said.

  “It means something like forced or coerced. My boss, Nero Wolfe, has a huge vocabulary, and I’ve learned all sorts of words from him. Some of them I may even use correctly.”

  That got a laugh out of Marlene. “Are you going to have something to eat, too?” she asked.

  “I’ve already had dinner, but to keep you company, I’ll have a piece of pie and a glass of milk.”

  She ordered a steak sandwich with fries and tied into her meal as if she hadn’t eaten in a week. I waited until she had finished before getting down to business. “Marlene, tell me about your trip to Florence.”

  “I had been in that city before, and on this vacation to Europe, the only place in Italy I had planned to visit was Rome. But when I learned that Cordelia was going to Florence for the first time, I thought it would be fun if we were there at the same time, at least for a week or so, and I ended up altering my plans.”

  “You had been classmates in college?”

  “Yes, at Vassar. We lived in the same hall and got to know each other early on. And we’ve been friends ever since, five or six years now.”

  “Nice to have long-running friendships like that. Cordelia said you got together several times in Florence.”

  She nodded. “We did, sometimes just the two of us and sometimes with … well, with a man she had met.”

  “Really? An Italian?”

  “Yes, his name is Carlo. He lives in Florence and comes from a very wealthy family in the leather business.”

  “Would you say this was a serious relationship?”

  Marlene bit a lip. “I know they seemed to get along, but … how well do you know Cordelia?”

  “Not very. I’ve only been with her a couple of times.”

  “I feel funny talking about a good friend like this, but Cordelia is really quite inexperienced with men, at least for someone her age.”

  “I was under the impression she had some sort of understanding with a man here in New York,” I said, improvising.

  “Lanny Mercer, yes. I haven’t talked to Cordelia lately, but I know they were beginning to make plans. He seems like a nice fellow, based on the few times I’ve met him. His family owns a business that makes airplanes, mostly for private companies, I believe.”

  “Do you feel her meeting this Carlo in Florence has had an effect on that relationship?”

  “I just don’t know, Mr. Goodwin.” She frowned and shook her head.

  “Well, do you think it is possible that the blackmailing has anything to do with this Carlo? And further, has Cordelia stayed in touch with him since she’s been back home?”

  Marlene ran a hand through her hair. “I wish I could answer your questions, but I haven’t talked to Cordelia in a few weeks now. I’ve called her for lunch a couple of times, but she’s always been busy. And she seems very distracted over the telephone, maybe because of this blackmailing business that you’re talking about.”

  “Maybe, but she refuses to get specific about it,” I said. “Her father, who hired us, knew something was bothering her and pushed her to tell him what it is. She finally did admit she was being blackmailed but would say nothing more about it. So it is up to us to figure out what’s going on.”

  “Poor Cordelia. I wish there was something I could do for her.”

  “You know her brother, Doug, don’t you?”

  “Well, yes, in a way,” she said. “Cordelia thought we would get along well and introduced us. We went out a few times a while back, but it just didn’t click, maybe because he’s quite a bit older than I am.”

  “So you don’t see him anymore?”

  She shook her head. “That is all in the past for me.”

  “Anything else you can think of that might help us understand what’s going on with Cordelia?”

  “As I said when you telephoned me, Mr. Goodwin, I really don’t think so. What I will do is call Cordelia again for lunch. Perhaps something will come of that.”

  “Please let me know if you learn something that is of interest.” I gave her my business card.

  “I will, as long as I am not betraying any confidences. And thank you very much for dinner,” Marlene said, sliding out of the booth and moving toward the door.

  “I would be happy to walk you home,” I said, but she told me she lived less than two blocks away. She seemed to be in a hurry to leave, and I was not about to slow her down.

  Chapter 22

  After breakfast the next morning, I welcomed a very attractive visitor—but don’t go getting any ideas. Doc Vollmer’s comely nurse, Carol Francis, had come to remove the last of my bandages, or so I hoped. My teres minor appeared to have healed, and now I could raise my left arm as high as ever—and most importantly, without pain.

  We went up to my room, where I stripped to the waist. Carol—we were now on a first-name basis—began pulling off the tape I had been swathed in several times since the shooting.

  “I wonder what my dear friend Lily would say if she could see us now?” I asked Carol.

  “She would say you are one lucky fellow to have such a capable nurse looking after you, Archie,” she said as she unwrapped me. “And she would also congratulate you on having such good recuperative powers.”

  “Does that mean no more bandaging?”

  “Not quite, big guy. I am going to wrap you up once more, but with less tape this time. We want to make sure the healing is complete. Based on what I’ve seen, two more weeks should do it, maximum, and I’ll come back for one session. You will be glad to see the last of me.”

  “That is where you are wrong. I’ll miss your visits.”

  “Hah, so you say, you sweet-talker. I know better. I have seen how you grimace each time I pull off the tape and rewrap you,” Carol said.

  “I guess I’m just a big sissy.”

  “Sissy? I really don’t think so. Not from what I have heard about your exploits.”

 
“Just who have you been talking to? I’ll bet it was your boss, that rascal Doc Vollmer.”

  “My lips are sealed. Now, you behave yourself and stay out of the line of fire in the future. It’s not healthy, do you hear?”

  “Yes, Nurse. I hereby promise to be more careful.”

  She rose to leave, and as she walked out of my room, she looked back over her shoulder and winked. I winked back, of course.

  I got dressed and went down to the office to go through the morning mail. One thing was puzzling me that I had put out of my mind over the last couple of days. Ever since Saul Panzer had dinner with Wolfe when I was out breaking bread with Annie Hutchinson, I hadn’t heard anything from him. This was unusual, as we normally talked nearly every day, even when he wasn’t doing a job for us. Even more unusual was Fred Durkin’s call to tell me that our weekly poker game at Saul’s had been canceled.

  “That is strange, given that he usually takes our money,” I told Fred. “Is our host ill?”

  “I don’t know, Archie. He just phoned me and asked that I tell the rest of you the game was off for this week.”

  As I mentioned earlier, Wolfe often gives Saul an assignment without bothering to inform me. Was this one of those times? I could ask, of course, but as has happened in the past, I likely would not get a straight answer from him.

  When Wolfe came down from the plant rooms at eleven and got settled in the reinforced chair behind his desk, I swiveled to face him. “I now have completed interviews with all of the principals in the Hutchinson case,” I told him.

  “All but one,” he contradicted.

  “Okay, who am I missing? I will get on it pronto.”

  “That is not necessary, Archie. It is being taken care of.”

  The little alarm bell that went off in my brain sent me the message that Saul Panzer was in some way involved, but I couldn’t figure out how, and I was damned if I was going to ask. Instead, I said to Wolfe, “Sounds like you have everything well in hand at the moment. If you don’t have need for me the rest of the day, as seems apparent, I thought I might go out to the Giants game at the Polo Grounds this afternoon. It is a beautiful day, and the Cardinals are in town with the great Stan Musial, who is currently batting almost .400. And it is fair to say I’m owed the time off, given all the evenings that I have been working lately. Unless, of course, you think otherwise.”

  “Archie, fits of pique do not become you. I realize you are eager to disencumber yourself of the information you have amassed, and I am eager to hear it. But haste is the enemy of the judicious. Let us discuss the matter after dinner. Go, enjoy the baseball game.”

  In fact, I did enjoy the game, even though the Giants got their ears boxed by a very good St. Louis team led by the superb Musial, who hit a home run and two doubles and drove in five runs, which was more than the entire New York team scored.

  I got back home before Wolfe’s descent from the plant rooms, which gave me time to mentally review all of the meetings I’d had with members of the Hutchinson clan and Marlene Peters. Following a dinner of squabs with sausage and sauerkraut, during which Wolfe extolled the essays of Montaigne, particularly his “Of the Education of Children,” we moved into the office for coffee. Since he makes it clear that he runs the show, I waited for him to say he was ready to hear from me. He finished his second cup of coffee, rang for beer, and set down that day’s Times crossword puzzle, which he had, as usual, completed. “Report,” he said.

  “Yes, sir.” I proceeded to give him my interviews in the order I had conducted them. As is my practice, I unloaded them to him verbatim, including hesitations, inflections, and pregnant pauses on the part of the interviewees. The business took more than an hour and a half, during which time Wolfe alternated between drinking beer and leaning back with hands interlaced over his middle mound. “That is the whole of it,” I told him when I had finished. “What do you think?”

  I got no answer and looked over at Wolfe, seeing why. He was leaning back, but this time with eyes closed and with his lips pushing in and out, in and out. I knew he was in a place where I couldn’t reach him; nobody could. Being one who likes to keep statistics at baseball games and séances, I checked my watch and waited. Forty-three minutes later, Wolfe opened his eyes and blinked twice.

  “Bah! I have been a consummate lackwit,” he said. “The answer was as plain as an elephant’s trunk, there before me, but I was too thickheaded to realize it. My private investigator’s license should be revoked by the state on the grounds of gross ineptitude.”

  “If you are done flagellating yourself, would you deign to share your discovery with me?” I asked.

  He did, slowly and thoroughly, and everything made perfect sense, complicated as it was. You may have figured out at least part of the puzzle by this time, but I had barely gotten beyond first base.

  “What do we do now?”

  Wolfe drew in his usual bushel of air and exhaled. “You will call them—every one—and have them here.”

  “When, pray tell?”

  “Day after tomorrow, nine in the evening.”

  “Why not sooner?”

  “I have reasons,” he said, “that need not trouble you at the moment.”

  “Okay, I’ll let that one pass, since you love to have your little secrets. You will concede that I have been pretty successful over the years in rounding up people for your gatherings here. I’m not as confident this time in being able to rope in all the members of the Hutchinson clan.”

  “I believe you can, Archie. You can tell them that we will lift the burden that Miss Hutchinson has been carrying, and that it is vital they all be here—and I include Miss Peters—to better understand the circumstances of Miss Hutchinson’s plight.”

  “I assume no mention should be made of the gunplay in Central Park and the death of Alan Marx.”

  “Your assumption is correct. However, when I call Inspector Cramer, my selling point to him will be the murders.”

  “Should I invite Saul to join me in hosting the festivities?”

  “That will not be necessary. I have made arrangements for Saul to be present,” he said.

  “And, of course, the reason for his presence should not trouble me?”

  Of course,” Wolfe replied.

  Chapter 23

  As I had feared, it was no picnic trying to bring everybody in for Wolfe’s little party. I started with our client, and even he balked initially. “I do not know why I can’t just come over there and meet with Wolfe alone,” Parkhurst Hutchinson said in a tone that indicated he was used to getting his way. He was reverting to his bullying ways.

  “This is not how Mr. Wolfe works,” I told him. “You have hired him for his brains, but in the deal you also get his eccentricities, which I concede are considerable.” The railroad tycoon was not satisfied, and we went back and forth for several minutes before I finally wore him down.

  “All right, dammit. I suppose my wife should be along as well?”

  “Yes, she should, and Cordelia, of course.”

  “Who else will be present?”

  “We are inviting all of your children, and also Cordelia’s friend, Marlene Peters.”

  “Is this really necessary, Goodwin? As I see it, the embarrassment to Cordelia will be acute.”

  “I am afraid some others may also be embarrassed, sir,” I said.

  “What can you tell me about the program?”

  “Nothing, as I don’t really know what Mr. Wolfe is planning,” I lied. “Other than to say there will be no further attempts to blackmail Cordelia, and that the blackmailer will be revealed, which should be a relief to everyone.”

  “Well, at least that is something,” Hutchinson huffed.

  “I believe that was the commission we were charged with,” I told him coldly.

  He huffed again and our conversation concluded. Of the clan other tha
n Cordelia, none seemed anxious to come to the brownstone. Annie tried to beg off, claiming another engagement. “Is it really necessary that I be there?” she asked plaintively.

  “Your parents and all your siblings will be present. Your absence would be noted, certainly by your parents.”

  That got me a grumble and a reluctant acceptance. Brother Tom was an only slightly easier sell. “I don’t see what I could possibly contribute by being there,” he said. “You know everything I do. I unloaded it all when we had lunch.”

  “Mr. Wolfe seems to think it is important that the whole family be there to present a united front in support of Cordelia,” I improvised. “I don’t have to tell you that she has been through a really rough time.”

  “Oh, all right, I surrender,” he sighed. “Can you give me directions? I’ll show up and try to behave myself.”

  Doug was a tough sell once I finally reached him. “I’m not sure what all this is supposed to prove,” he muttered. “I’m in the middle of working on a new oil, and I hate any kind of interruption when I’m doing well. What’s more, I’ve got a commission on this one—a chance to make some honest-to-goodness shekels for a change.”

  “You’re only being asked to give an hour or so on one night. I am sure your youngest sister would appreciate the support.”

  “Frankly, Mr. Goodwin, my youngest sister won’t give two hoots whether I’m there or not.”

  “However, it would not look good if you were the only absent Hutchinson,” I persisted.

  “Anybody besides the family going to be there?”

  “No,” I said, following Wolfe’s orders.

  “Oh, screw it, I’ll show up,” he groused before hanging up on me. Fortunately, I had already given him our address. I hoped he would remember it.

  Kathleen started by grumbling about the idea of coming into the city at night. “I really try to avoid New York these days, Archie,” she said. “Part of the reason is that I have to get a babysitter for my girls whenever I go into town.”