A Family Affair

by A Family Affair (lit)

  He laughed. Always laugh at a customer's joke, even a bum one. "There certainly ought to be. 111 tell Mr. Ohrbach. So you took him up and left him."

  He laughed. "Good thing you left."

  "It sure was. I may be dumb, but not that dumb."

  Following him down the two flights, I would have liked to plant a foot on his fanny and push but controlled it.

  The office chores were done, but I had been interrupted on a job of research-a phone call to Nathaniel Parker to ask for a report on the lawyers, Judd and Ackerman, one to our bank for a report on Hahn, the banker, and one to Lon Cohen about Roman Vilar, security, and Ernest Urquhart, lobbyist. I had enough on Igoe unless there were developments. Huh. Also [76] one of the bottom shelves had seven directories, not counting the telephone books for the five boroughs and Westchester and Washington, and I had the Directory of Directors open at N to see if any of them were on the NATELEC list when Wolfe came down.

  Three days' mail was on his desk, and he went at it. First, as usual, a quick once-through, dropping about half in the wastebasket. Of course I had chucked most of the circulars and other junk. He answers nearly all real letters, especially handwritten ones, because, he once told me, it is a mandate of civility. Also, I said, all he had to do was talk to me and he loved to talk, and he nodded and said that when he had to write them by hand he hadn't answered any. I said then he wasn't civilized, and that started him off on one of his hairsplitting speeches. We answered about twenty letters, three or four from orchid collectors and buffs as usual, with a few interruptions, phone calls from Parker and Lon Cohen and Fred Durkin. When I swiveled to my desk I was surprised to see him go to the shelves for a book-Fitzgerald's translation of the lliad. In the mail there had been an inscribed copy of Herblock's new book. Special Report, with about a thousand cartoons of Nixon, but apparently he no longer needed to read or look at pictures about it because he was working on it. So he sat and read about a phony horse instead of a phony statesman.

  He tasted his lunch all right. First marrow dumplings, and then sweetbreads poached in white wine, dipped in crumbs and eggs, sauteed, and doused with almonds in brown butter. I had had it at Rusterman's, where they call it ris de veau amandine, and Fritz's is always better. I know I haven't got Wolfe's 'palate. I know it because he has told me.

  After lunch you might have thought we were back to normal. Theodore brought down a batch of statistics on germination and performance, and I en- [77] tered them on the file cards. Week in and week out, that routine, about two per cent of which-the few he sells-applies to income and the rest to outgo, takes, on an average, about a third of my time. Wolfe, after listening to my reports on my morning's research, which contributed absolutely nothing, worked hard at comparing Fitzgerald's Illiad with the three other translations he brought over from the shelf. That was risky because they were on a high shelf and he had to use the stool. On the dot at four o'clock he left for the plant rooms. You might have thought we hadn't a care in the world. There hadn't been a peep from the members of the family. Wolfe hadn't even glanced at Herblock's Special Report. The only flaw was that when I finished typing the letters my legs and lungs wanted to go for a walk, and Saul and Fred and Orrie didn't have walkie-talkies.

  At six o'clock the sound came of the elevator complaining as it started down, but it only lasted four seconds. He had stopped off for a look at the South Room, which he hadn't seen since one-thirty Tuesday morning. It was a good ten minutes before it started again, so he gave the ruins more than a glance. When he came and crossed to his desk and got settled, he said my guess of fifteen hundred dollars was probably too low with the bloated prices of everything from sugar to shingles, and I said I was glad to hear him having fun with words, tossing off an alliteration with two words that weren't spelled the same. He said it had been casual, which was a lie, and started reading and signing the letters. He always reads them, not to catch errors because he knows there won't be any, but to let me know that if I ever make one it will be spotted.

  It was ten minutes to seven and I was sealing the envelopes when the phone rang and I got it.

  "Nero Wolfe's residence, Archie Goodwin speaking."

  Up to six o'clock it's "office."

  After six, "resi- [78] dence."

  I don't want people to think my nose is on the grindstone. Most offices close at five.

  "May I speak to Mr. Wolfe, please? My name is Roman Vi-lar. V-I-L-A-R."

  I covered the mouthpiece and turned. "Fred has flushed one. Roman Vilar, euphemistic security. He asks permission to speak to Mr. Wolfe, please. Only he makes it Vi-lar."

  "Indeed."

  Wolfe reached for his receiver. I kept mine.

  "Nero Wolfe speaking."

  This is Roman Vilar, Mr. Wolfe. You have never heard of me, but of course I have heard of you. But that isn't correct-you have heard of me, or at least your man Goodwin has. Yesterday, from Benjamin Igoe."

  "Yes. Mr. Goodwin has told me."

  "Of course. And he told you what Mr. Igoe told him. Of course. And Mr. Igoe has told me what he told Goodwin. I have told others, and they are here with me now in my apartment. Mr. Igoe and four others. May I ask a question?"

  "Yes. I may answer it."

  "Thank you. Have yon told the police or the District Attorney what Mr. Igoe told Goodwin?"

  "No."

  "Thank you. Do you intend to? No, I withdraw that. I can't expect you to tell me what you intend to do. We have been discussing the situation, and one of us was going to go and discuss it with you, but we decided we would all like to be present. Of course not now-it's your dinnertime, or soon will be. Would nine o'clock be convenient?"

  "Here. At my office."

  "Certainly."

  "You know the address."

  "Certainly."

  "You said four others. Who are they?"

  [79] "You have their names. Mr. Igoe gave them to Goodwin."

  "Yes. We'll expect you at nine o'clock."

  Wolfe hung up. So did I.

  "I want a raise," I said. "Beginning yesterday at four o'clock. I admit it will be more inflation, and President Ford expects us to voluntarily lay off, but as somebody said, a man is worth his hire. It took me just ten minutes to get Igoe to spill that."

  " "The laborer is worthy of his hire.'

  The Bible. Luke. They offered to work for nothing, all three of them, and you want a raise, and it was you who took him up to bed."

  I nodded. "And you said to me with him there on the floor and plaster all around him and on him, 1 suppose you had to.'

  Someday that will have to be fully discussed, but not now. We're talking just to show how different we are. If we were just ordinary people we would be shaking hands and beaming at each other or dancing a jig. It's your turn."

  Fritz entered. To announce a meal he always comes in three steps, never four. But seeing us, when he stopped, what he said was, "Something happened."

  Damn it, we were and are different. But Fritz knows vs. He ought to.

  Before going to the dining room I rang Saul's number, got his answering service, and left a message that I couldn't make it to the weekly poker game and give Lon Cohen my love.

  [80] 9 The only visible evidence in the office that we had company was six men on chairs. Since this was a family affair, not business, it could be mentioned at the table, and after the cognac flames on a roast duck Mr. Richards had died, and Wolfe had carved it, and Fritz had brought me mine and taken his, we had discussed the question of setting up a refreshment table and had vetoed it. It would have made them think they were welcome and we wished them well, which would have been only half true. They were welcome, but we did not wish them well-at least not one of them.

  To a stranger entering the office it's obvious at a glance that the red leather chair is the place. I had intended to put Benjamin Igoe in it, but a bishop with a splendid mop of white hair and quick gray eyes went to it even before he pronounced his name. Ernest Urquhart, the lobbyist. They all pronoun
ced their names for Wolfe before they sat-the other five or two rows of yellow chairs facing Wolfe's desk, three in front and two back. Like this: WOLFE URQUHAOT Me JUDD ACKERMAN VILAB IGOE HAHN "I'm not really arrogant or impudent, Mr. Wolfe," [81] Urquhart said. "I took this chair only because these gentlemen decided that, since we are all willing talkers, it would be wise to name a spokesman, and they chose me. Not that their tongues are tied. Two of them are lawyers. I can't say with Sir Thomas More, 'and not a lawyer among them.'

  " Not a good start. Wolfe didn't like quoters, and he was down on More because he had smeared Richard III. I was wondering whether Urquhart was a lobbyist because he looked like a tolerant and sympathetic bishop, or looked like that because he was a lobbyist. He had the voice for it, too.

  "I have all night," Wolfe said.

  "It shouldn't take all night. We certainly hope not. As you must have gathered from what Mr. Vilar said on the phone, we're concerned about what Mr. Igoe told Mr. Goodwin about Mr. Bassett-and what Mr. Goodwin told him. Frankly, we think it was unnecessary and indiscreet, and-" "Leave that out! Goddam it, I told you."

  It was Igoe's strong baritone, even stronger.

  "That was understood, Ernie."

  Ackerman. Francis Ackerman, lawyer, Washington. I am not going to drag in Watergate, it certainly doesn't need any dragging in by me, but when they had single-filed in from the stoop he had struck me as a fairly good take-off of John Mitchell, with his saggy jowls and scanty chin. His calling Ackerman "Ernie" showed that he was the kind of Washington lawyer who is on nickname terms with lobbyists. Anyhow, one lobbyist.

  Urquhart nodded. Not to Ackerman or Igoe or Wolfe; he just nodded. "That slipped out," he told Wolfe. "Please ignore it. What concerns us is the possible result of what Mr. Igoe told Mr. Goodwin. And he gave him our names, and today men have been making inquiries about two of us, and apparently they were sent by you. Were they? Sent by you?"

  "Yes," Wolfe said.

  [82] "You admit it?"

  Wolfe wiggled a finger. That was regression-1 just looked it up. He had quit finger-wiggling a couple of years back. "Don't do that," he said. "Calling a statement an admission is one of the oldest and scrubbiest lawyers' tricks, and you're not a lawyer. I state it."

  "You'll have to make allowances," Urquhart said. "We are not only concerned, we are disturbed. Apprehensive. Mr. Goodwin told Mr. Igoe that at that dinner at Rusterman's one of us handed Mr. Bassett a slip of paper, and-" "No."

  "No?"

  "He told Mr. Igoe that Pierre Ducos had told him that he had seen one of you hand Mr. Bassett a slip of paper. Also that that was the one fact that Pierre had mentioned, and that therefore we considered it significant."

  "Significant of what?"

  "I don't know. That's what I intend to find out. One week after that dinner Mr. Bassett was shot and killed. Ten minutes after Pierre told Mr. Goodwin that he saw one of you hand Mr. Bassett a slip of paper at that dinner-told him that and nothing else-he was killed by a bomb in his house. Mr. Urquhart, did you hand Mr. Bassett a slip of paper at that dinner?"

  "No. And I want to make-" "No is enough."

  Wolfe's head turned. "Did you, Mr.Judd?"

  "No."

  "Did you, Mr. Ackerman?"

  "No."

  "Did you, Mr. Vilar?"

  "No. I am -" "Did you, Mr. Hahn?"

  "No."

  [83] "You told Mr. Goodwin no, Mr. Igoe. I ask you again. Did you?"

  "Huh. No" Wolfe's head went left and right to take them in. "There you are, gentlemen. Rather, there I am. Either Pierre lied to Mr. Goodwin or one of you lies. I don't think Pierre lied; why would he? Another question: did any of you see one of the others hand Mr. Bassett a slip of paper? I don't need another round of nos; I invite a yes. Any of you?"

  No yes. Roman Vilar said, "We can't ask Pierre about it. He's dead."

  Vilar, euphemistic security, was all points-pointed chin, pointed nose, pointed ears, even pointed shoulders. He was probably the youngest of them-at a guess, early forties. His saying that they couldn't ask Pierre also pointed, for me, to the fact that when Wolfe had told me Wednesday morning what to say to them, or one of them, if I got the chance, I hadn't fully realized how much dust could be kicked up by one little lie. One more mention by anybody that Pierre had told me that he had seen one of them hand Bassett a slip of paper and I would begin to believe it myself.

  "Yes," Wolfe said, "Pierre Ducos is dead. I saw him, on his back, with no face. I can't ask him either. If I could, almost certainly you would not be here, not all of you. Only one."

  He focused on Urquhart. "You said you are concerned not only about what Mr. Goodwin told Mr. Igoe but also about what Mr. Igoe told him. So am I. That's why I am having inquiries made about you-all of you. Mr. Igoe used the term 'obsession.'

  I don't have obsessions, but I too am attentive to the skulduggery of Richard Nixon and his crew. And the purpose of that gathering, arranged by Mr. Bassett, was to discuss it. Yes?"

  "I suppose you might-" "Hold it, Urquhart. Is this being recorded, Wolfe?"

  [84] Albert 0. Judd, the other lawyer. He was about the same age as Vilar. He looked like a smoothie, but not the oily kind, and he had paid somebody a good four C's for cutting and fitting his light-gray coat and pants, the kind of fabric that suggests stripes but doesn't actually have any. Marvelous.

  Wolfe eyed him. "You must know, Mr. Judd, that that question is cogent only if the one who asks it can rely on the one who answers, and why should you rely on me? It isn't to be expected that I'll say yes, and what good is my no? However, I say it. No."

  His eyes took them in, from Judd around to Urquhart. "Mr. Vilar asked me on the telephone if I had told the police or the District Attorney what Mr. Igoe told Mr. Goodwin, and I said no. He asked me if I intended to but withdrew the question because he couldn't expect me to answer. But I will answer. Again no. At present I intend to tell no one. I do intend to learn who killed Pierre Ducos, and I have reason to surmise that in doing so I'll also learn who killed Harvey Bassett."

  He turned a palm up. "Gentlemen. I know why you're here, of course. At present the officers of the law have no reason to assume that any of you were implicated in a homicide. Two homicides. Naturally they have inquired about Mr. Bassett's movements and activities immediately prior to his death, but he was a busy man of affairs, and they probably know nothing of that dinner a week earlier. If they knew what I know, they would not merely assume that one or more of you might be implicated; you would be the main focus of their investigation."

  He turned to me. "Your notebook, Archie."

  I got it, and a pen. He had closed his eyes. He opened them to see that I was equipped, and closed them again. "Not a letterhead, plain paper. Merely a list of questions. How long had you known Mr. Bassett and what were your relations with him? Why [85] were you included in a meeting called by him to discuss Richard Nixon's use or abuse of tape recorders? Did you know that Mr. Bassett felt that Mr. Nixon had debased and polluted tape recorders, comma, and did you agree with him? Have you ever been involved in any activity connected with the phenomena called Watergate, comma, and if so what and how and when? Have you ever had any contact with anyone connected with Watergate? To your knowledge, comma, even hearsay, comma, have any of the other five guests ever been connected in any way with Watergate, comma, and if so who? Where were you and what were you doing last Friday night, comma, October twenty-fifth, comma, from six P.M. to two A.M.? Where were you and what were you doing last Monday, comma, October twenty-eighth, comma, from twelve noon to twelve midnight?"

  He opened his eyes. "Six carbons. No, only five, we won't need one. No hurry."

  He turned to them. "That, gentlemen, is a sample of the questions you are going to be asked. Either by me or by the police. You have a choice. You realize that-" "This has gone far enough. Too far. Wolfe, I am a senior vice-president of the fourth largest bank in New York. We will pay you one hundred thousand dollars to represent our interests. One half tomo
rrow in cash, and the remainder guaranteed-probably by us jointly and certainly by me personally. Orally. Not in writing."

  Willard K. Hahn's voice was soft and low, but the kind of soft and low you don't have to strain to hear. He was a square. He would have been obviously a square even without his square jaw and square shoulders-the opposite of Vilar with his points.

  Wolfe was looking down his nose at him. "Not a good offer, Mr. Hahn. If as payment for services, too much. If as a bribe to muzzle me, not enough."

  [86] It's for services. Too much? You saying too much, when you have just said we would be the main focus of a murder investigation? Vilar says you charge the highest fees in New York. If I need something, I buy it and I pay for it. I knew Harvey Bassett for twenty years. He was a good customer of my bank. And he's dead. Ben Igoe says he had an obsession about Richard Nixon and the tapes, and that's true, he did, but that wasn't his only obsession. When I heard of his death, how he died, my first thought was his wife -his obsession about her. Have you-" "Goddam it, Hahn, you would!"