Nero Wolfe 16 - Even in the Best Families (18 page)

I hung up and told Wolfe, “All set.”

Out of his chair, he grunted. “You overdid it a little, perhaps? Nightmare, for instance?”

“Yes, sir,” I agreed. “I get too enthusiastic.”

I glared at him, and he glared back.

S
ince I do not intend to use up paper reporting the five-hour conference I had with Wolfe that night in Lily Rowan’s living room, I could just as well go on to Wednesday morning, except for one thing. I have got to tell about their arrival at the door of Lily’s penthouse apartment on East Sixty-third Street. Wolfe didn’t speak and wouldn’t look at me. Lily shook hands with me, a form of greeting we hadn’t used for I don’t know how long, then unlocked the door, and we entered. When her wrap and Wolfe’s hat had been disposed of and we passed to the living room, she tossed her firecracker.

“Archie,” she said, “I knew darned well that something would happen someday to make up for all the time I’ve wasted on you. I just felt it would.”

I nodded. “Certainly. You’ll show a profit on the night even if you feed us sandwiches, especially since Pete is a light eater. He’s on a diet.”

“Oh,” she said, “I didn’t mean money, and you can go the limit on sandwiches. I meant the distinction you’ve brought me. I’m the only woman in America who has necked with Nero Wolfe. Nightmare, my eye. He has a flair.”

Wolfe, who had seated himself, cocked his head to frown at her—a first-rate performance.

I smiled at her. “I told Pete what you said on the phone, and he was flattered. Okay, woman of distinction.”

She shook her head. “Turn loose, my brave fellow. I’ve got hold of it.” She moved to Wolfe, looking down at him. “Don’t be upset, Pete. I wouldn’t have known you from Adam, no one would; that wasn’t it. It’s my hero here. Archie’s an awful prude. He has been up against some tough ones, lots of them, and not once has he ever called on me to help. Never! A proud prude. Suddenly he calls me away from revelry—I might have been reveling for all he knew—to get into a car and be intimate with a stranger. There’s only one person on earth he would do that for: you. So if I was pretty ardent in the car, I knew what I was doing. And don’t worry about me—whatever you’re up to, my lips are sealed. Anyway, to me you will always be Pete. The only woman in America who has necked with Nero Wolfe—my God, I’ll treasure it forever. Now I’ll go make some sandwiches. What kind of a diet are you on?”

Wolfe said through his teeth, “I care for nothing.”

“That can’t be. A peach? Grapes? A leaf of lettuce?”

“No!”

“A glass of water?”

“Yes!”

She left the room, leering at me as she went by. In a moment the sound of her movements in the kitchen came faintly.

I told Wolfe offensively, “It was you who said we needed a woman.”

“It was you who selected her.”

“You okayed her.”

“It’s done,” he said bitterly. “So are we. She’ll blab, of course.”

“There’s one hope,” I suggested. “Marry her. She wouldn’t betray her own husband. And apparently in that one short ride uptown with her—”

I stopped abruptly. The face as a whole was no longer his, but the eyes alone were enough to tell me when I had gone far enough.

“I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” I offered. “I know her quite well. Two things that could conceivably happen: first, you might go to Zeck tomorrow and tell him who you are, and second, Lily might spill it either thoughtfully or thoughtlessly. I’ll bet you ten bucks the first happens as soon as the second.”

He growled. “She’s a woman.”

“All right, bet me.”

The bet didn’t get made. Not that Wolfe came to my point of view about Lily Rowan, but what could the poor son of a gun do? He couldn’t even take to the bushes again and start all over. From that point on, though, up to the end, the strain was ten times worse for him than for me. It cramped his style some all that night, after Lily had gone off to bed and we talked in the living room until long after dawn. At six o’clock he went. Probably it would then have been safe for me to go too, since if they were enough interested in him to have posted a sentry outside the building he would almost certainly leave when Roeder did, but probabilities weren’t good enough now, not after the picture Wolfe had given me and the program he had drawn up, so I took a good two-hour nap before leaving for Thirty-fifth Street and a bath and breakfast.

At ten o’clock I was at 1019, starting at the phone to get hold of Saul and Orrie and Fred.

I did not like it at all. The way Wolfe was getting set to play it, it looked to me as if we had one chance in a thousand, and while that may be good enough to go ahead on when what you’re after is to nail a guy on a charge, and if you muff it the worst you get is a new start under a handicap, it’s a little different when a muff means curtains. I had of course told Wolfe all I knew, including Inspector Cramer’s visit and advice, but that only made him stubborner. With Zeck on Rackham’s tail, through me, it seemed likely that the murderer of Mrs. Rackham might get his proper voltage with Zeck’s blessing, and since that was all that Wolfe was committed to, why not settle for it? For now anyway, and then take a good breath. As for commitments, I had one of my own. I had promised myself to see Norway before I died.

So I didn’t like it, and I either had to lump it or bow out. I tossed a coin: heads I stick, tails I quit. It landed tails, but I had to veto it because I had already talked to Orrie Cather and he was coming at noon, and I had left messages for Fred Durkin and Saul Panzer. I tossed again, tails again. I tossed once more and it was heads, which settled it. I had to stick.

The tailing of Barry Rackham was a classic, especially after the first week. It was a shame to waste the talents of Saul Panzer on what was actually a burlesque, but it was good to have him around anyhow. I briefed them all together at 1019, Wednesday evening, with Saul perched on a corner of the desk because there were only three chairs. Saul was undersized, inconspicuous all but his nose, and the best all-round man alive. Fred Durkin was big and
clumsy, with a big red face, with no Doberman pinscher in him but plenty of bulldog. Orrie Cather was slender and muscular and handsome, just the man to mingle with the guests at a swell dinner party when circumstances called for it. After I had explained the job, with details as required, I supplied a little background.

“As far as you know,” I told them, “I’m only doing this for practice. Your only contact is me. There is no client.”

“Jesus,” Fred remarked, “a hundred bucks a day and more with expenses? I guess you ought to pay in advance.”

“Take it up with the NLRB,” I said stiffly. “As an employer, I do not invite familiarities from the help.”

“Of course,” Orrie stated with an understanding smile, “it’s just a coincidence that this Rackham was with you once at the scene of a murder. When you got tossed in the coop.”

“That’s irrelevant. Let us stick to the point, gentlemen. I want to make it clear that I do not actually care a damn where Rackham goes or what he does or who he sees. You are to hang on and report in full, since that’s the proper way to handle a dry run, but I don’t want anyone to get hurt. If he turns on you and starts throwing rocks, dodge and run. If you lose him, as of course you will, don’t bark your shins trying to hurdle.”

“You ought to have workmen’s compensation insurance,” Fred advised. “Then we could be serious about it.”

“Do you mean,” Saul Panzer asked, “that the purpose is to get on his nerves?”

“No. Play it straight. I only mean it’s not life and death—until further notice.” I pushed my chair back
and got up. “And now I wish to prove that being an employer hasn’t changed me any. You may continue to call me Archie. You may come with me to Thirty-fifth Street, where we will find a poker deck, and Fritz will make five, and when we have finished I’ll lend you carfare home.”

For the record, I lost twelve dollars. Saul was the big winner. One hand, I had three nines and—but I’d better get on.

Rackham was living at the Churchill, in an air-conditioned suite in the tower. During the first week we compiled quite a biography of him. He never stuck his nose outside before one o’clock, and once not until four. His ports of call included two banks, a law office, nine bars, two clubs, a barber shop, seven other shops and stores, three restaurants, three theaters, two night spots, and miscellaneous. He usually ate lunch with a man or men, and dinner with a woman. Not the same woman; three different ones during the week. As described by my operatives, they were a credit to their sex, to the American way of life, and to the International Ladies’ Garment Workers’ Union.

I took on a little of it myself, but mostly I left it to the help. Not that I loafed. There were quite a few hours with Lily Rowan, off and on, both as a substitute for the trip to Norway, indefinitely postponed, and as a check on the soundness of the estimate of her I had given Wolfe. She caused me no qualms. Once when we were dancing she sighed for Pete, and once at her apartment she said she would love to help some more with my work, but when I tactfully made it plain that the detective business was not on our agenda she took it nicely and let it lay.

There were other things, including the reports on
Rackham to be typed. Late every afternoon Max Christy called at my office to get the report of the day before, and he would sit and read it and ask questions. When he got critical, I would explain patiently that I couldn’t very well post a man at the door of Rackham’s suite to take pictures of all the comers and goers, and that we were scoring better than eighty per cent on all his hours outside, which was exceptional for New York tailing.

I had the advantage, of course, of having had the situation described to me by their Pete Roeder. They were worried a little about Westchester, but more about the city. Shortly after he had become a millionaire by way of a steak knife, whoever had used it, Rackham had got word to Zeck that he was no longer available for contacts. Brownie Costigan had got to Rackham, thinking to put the bee on him, and had been tossed out on his ear. The stink being raised in Washington on gambling and rackets, and the resulting enthusiasm in the office of the New York County District Attorney, had started an epidemic of jitters, and it was quite possible that if one of my typed reports had told of a visit by Rackham to the DA’s office, or of one by an assistant DA to Rackham’s suite, Rackham would have had a bad accident, like getting run over or falling into the river with lead in him. That was why Wolfe had given me careful and explicit instructions about what I should report and what I shouldn’t.

I had no sight or sound of Wolfe. He was to let me know if and when there was something stirring, and I had been told how to reach him if I had to.

Meanwhile I had my schedule, and on the ninth day, a Friday, the first of September, it called for a move. Things looked right for it. Saul, on instructions,
had let himself get spotted once, and Orrie twice, and Fred, without instructions, at least three times. I too had cooperated by letting myself be seen at the entrance of the Crooked Circle one night as Rackham emerged with companions. So Friday at five o’clock, when Saul phoned that the subject had entered the Romance Bar on Forty-ninth Street, I went for a walk, found Saul window-shopping, told him to go home to his wife and children, moseyed along to the Romance Bar entrance, and went on in.

Business was rushing, with as many as five at a table the size of a dishpan. Making no survey, I found a place at the long bar where two customers were carelessly leaving enough room for a guy to get an elbow through, and took the opening. After a while the bartender admitted I was there and let me buy a highball. I took a casual look around, saw Rackham at a table with a pair of males, turned my back that way, and got his range in the mirror.

I did not really expect a bite at the very first try. I thought it might take two or three exposures. But evidently he was ripe. I was in the middle of my second highball when my mirror view showed me the trio getting up and squeezing through the mob to the clear. I dropped my chin and looked at my thumb. They went on by, toward the door, and I turned to watch their manly backs. As soon as they were out I followed, and, on the sidewalk, immediately turned right, thinking to reconnoiter from the shop entrance next door. But I was still two paces from it when there was a voice at my elbow.

“Here I am, Goodwin.”

I turned to face him, looking mildly startled. “Oh, hello.”

“What’s the idea?” he demanded.

“Which one?” I asked politely. “There’s so many around.”

“There are indeed. You and three others that I know of. Who wants to know so much about me?”

“Search me.” I was sympathetic. “Why, are you being harassed?”

Color had started to show in his face, and the muscles of his jaw were called upon. His right shoulder twitched.

“Not here on the street,” I suggested. “A crowd will collect, especially after I react. See that man turning to look? You’re standing like Jack Dempsey.”

He relaxed a little. “I think I know,” he said.

“Good for you. Then I’m not needed.”

“I want to have a talk with you.”

“Go ahead.”

“Not here. At my place—the Churchill.”

“I think I have a free hour next Tuesday.”

“Now. We’ll go there now.”

I shrugged. “Not together. You lead the way, and I’ll tag along.”

He turned and marched. I gave him twenty paces and then followed. It takes the strain off of tailing a man to have a date with him, and since we had only a few blocks to go it would have been merely a pleasant little stroll if he hadn’t been in such a hurry. I had to use my full stride to keep my distance. As we neared the Churchill I closed in a little, and when he entered an elevator I was there ready for the next one.

He had a corner suite at the setback, which gave him a terrace and also a soundbreak for the street noises. It was cool and quiet in his big sitting room, with light blue summer rugs and pretty pictures and light blue slipcovers on the furniture. While he adjusted
Venetian blinds I glanced around, and when he was through I told him, “Very nice. A good place for a heart-to-heart talk.”