“I had come to talk to Mr. Wolfe — or you, of course — I understand you report everything to him more or less verbatim?”
“Not more or less.”
“Uh... yes, verbatim. Anyway, Megan called me today — about... last Wednesday night.” Pamsett fiddled with the dimpled knot of his tie and glanced around the office, expecting me to respond. Not wanting to be predictable, I remained silent, watching him fidget.
“Anyway,” he said, making a production out of clearing his throat, “she told me that she and Doyle had been here earlier today and that she mentioned her visit to see me Wednesday night.”
“Correct.”
“Yes, well, the reason I’m here, basically, is to corroborate that she was with me from... as nearly as I can recall, a little after ten until about right around midnight. You understand, those are approximate times, but I think they’re pretty close. When she left, I went down with her to the lobby of my building to make sure she was safely in a taxi.” He smiled self-effacingly and turned his palms up, as if indicating there was nothing more to be said on the matter.
“Mr. Pamsett, one thing puzzles me: You could have told me this over the phone in seconds; why come all the way across town and wait for — what? — two hours without an appointment or any guarantee that Mr. Wolfe or I would even be here?”
I got another one of Pamsett’s humble smiles and more of the palms-up business. “That’s an appropriate question, Mr. Goodwin. I can only say in my defense that I invariably prefer face-to-face contact to the telephone. But there’s more to it than that.”
“I felt sure that there was,” I told him.
“Yes, well, Megan was unsettled by today’s meeting with Mr. Wolfe, to say the least. I think she felt her call on me on Wednesday night needed, as I said before, some sort of corroboration. From my perspective, the situation was important enough to warrant this visit.”
“Did Mrs. James ask you to come here?”
“Actually, no,” Pamsett said. This time the smile was sheepish. “And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell her about this visit. She might view it as meddling, although it surely isn’t meant as such.”
“All right, you’ve made the visit, and your corroboration is duly noted. Is there anything else?”
“Well... I guess not. I thought perhaps you would have some questions.”
“Questions? Let me see... All right, one thing you might be able to clarify: Did Mrs. James call you before she came to see you Wednesday night?”
Pamsett leaned back and folded his arms across his chest, looking up and making a production out of recollecting. “I... Yes, yes, she did,” he said slowly. “Megan called me earlier in the evening and asked if she could come by.”
“Is that a common occurrence?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Is Mrs. James’s calling you to ask if she can stop by a common occurrence?”
“No,” he said stiffly, looking as if he was straining to keep a smile on his face.
“What did she say when she called you?”
“Just that she needed to talk. We spend a lot of time talking.”
“About what?”
An elegant shrug. “All manner of things: her children, my children, politics, charitable organizations, the theater — all manner of topics.”
“And what did she want to talk about Wednesday night?”
“Mr. Goodwin, is this confidential?” Pamsett said in a low voice, leaning forward and fixing me with a look that was meant to communicate that we were men of the world discussing elemental problems.
“Not necessarily,” I replied. “I am a private investigator, licensed by the State of New York. If I learn that a crime has been committed, I am by law required to report what I know to the proper authorities. Beyond that, I honor the confidences of clients. As far as nonclients are concerned, however, I operate on a case-by-case basis.”
“Understood,” he said tightly, realizing that his “we’re-both-men-of-the-world” approach wasn’t working on me. “All right. I am going to elect to trust you.”
“That’s your choice, of course.”
“Of course. When Megan came to my apartment Wednesday night, it was to talk about Noreen and... what had happened to her. She was concerned that, and I know this sounds ridiculous, that she might be viewed by Wolfe as a suspect in Linville’s killing.”
“I don’t mean to sound either disrespectful or cynical, Mr. Pamsett, but how did Mrs. James think you could be of help in this area?”
“I think it was mainly that I have a sympathetic ear,” he answered. “She knows that she can talk candidly to me without being judged or criticized.”
“How would you describe your relationship with Mrs. James?”
“How do you mean?” What was left of his smile had evaporated.
“I thought the question was clearly stated. Answer it in whatever way seems natural. If I have a problem with your response, I’ll say so.”
“I find that a somewhat intrusive posture,” Pamsett said, still trying to sound chummy, but with irritation showing around the edges.
“Suit yourself,” I told him, “but remember, you’re the one who urged me to ask you questions, and that was only a few minutes ago. Okay, now I’m asking. You can answer or not, that’s your draw.”
Pamsett crossed one leg over the other and contemplated the back of his hand. “Megan and I have known each other for... six, maybe seven years now. I am a widower, my children grown and gone to live in other parts of the country — and the world. Megan is of course divorced. We spend a good deal of time together. We eat out, go to concerts, shows, various civic and benefit functions. Quite simply, we have a lot in common and enjoy each other’s company. If I may venture a comment — and not a disrespectful one, I assure you — I suspect our relationship, to use your term, is not wholly unlike the one you have with Megan’s very charming and attractive half-sister.”
He had me there. In fact, as he had been describing what the two of them do together, I was struck by the similarity to so many of my activities with Lily. “Point taken,” I said, grinning to show that there were no hard feelings on my part. “Care to speculate on who might have bumped off Linville?”
Pamsett tugged on his ear, then shook his head. “I simply cannot believe it was Michael. The act is totally out of character for him, even given the enormity of the act committed by the Linville boy. But I certainly can think of no one else to nominate. Might I inquire as to what progress you and Mr. Wolfe are making in this direction?”
“Mr. Wolfe pretty much keeps his own counsel in these matters. For all I know, he may already have things figured out, but if that’s the case, he hasn’t chosen to share his thoughts with me.”
Pamsett frowned, running a hand along the wavy gray-white hair on the side of his head. The guy really did look — and act — like something out of an English movie. “Do you have any idea at all when, or if, he is likely to make a determination?”
“Look, I’m sorry to be so vague, but one, you’re not our client, and two, I’m not kidding when I say that Mr. Wolfe is pretty damn tight-lipped regarding his thought processes. I’m not even going to speculate on when he will choose to say something, let alone on what he will have to say.”
“I see. All right, you’ve been most generous with your time, especially at this late hour,” Pamsett said, making a move to get up.
“Oh, before you go, I have a question,” I said casually.
“Yes.”
“I wonder how you happened to be at the funeral services for Sparky Linville. And also at the cemetery.”