“You are a perceptive individual,” Wolfe said. “Do you have any idea as to why Miss Carr has disappeared?”
“No, I don’t, and this is sounding like what you did with Sofia, grilling her.”
“I did not grill your wife, to use a police term, nor am I grilling you. I am merely probing. And I should think both you and she should be concerned about Miss Carr’s whereabouts, first as caring people, and second, albeit less important, because the woman is a source of income for your family.”
That seemed to stymie Jurek, but he was still in a pout, with his arms folded across his chest. “We’ll get along one way or another.”
“I understand you work in the scrap metal business.”
“It’s a living, and I’m with a company I started with before I went to war.”
“There is something to be said for job security,” Wolfe acknowledged. “I assume you are happy there.”
“Yeah. Anything else you want to know?”
“Not at the moment. If either you or your wife hear from Miss Carr, or learn where she is, I would appreciate you telling me.”
Jurek didn’t respond, just slugged back the rest of his drink, stood up, and headed for the office door with me not far behind. No words were exchanged as I followed him down the hall, gave him his coat, and closed the front door behind him, locking it. When I got back to the office, Wolfe had just picked up a book as I said, “So much for Mr. Personality.”
That was met with what I would best describe as a snort. “How did Fred happen to be here?” he demanded.
“It was my idea. Call it a premonition, but I didn’t like the sound of Jurek over the phone, and I felt there might be trouble, so I arranged for backup.”
Another snort. “I did not realize Fred had been a boxer.”
“As an amateur only. He had been in Golden Gloves tournaments years ago. To hear him tell it, he wasn’t bad, but said he just got tired of getting hit and knew he wasn’t good enough to become a professional.”
“When did you smuggle him in here?”
“I would hardly term it ‘smuggling,’ but it was while you were in the kitchen with Fritz.”
“And what was this nonsense with the word Geronimo?”
“That was a prearranged signal. Fred was in the front room with the door slightly open when Jurek came in. If he heard me speak that word, he was to come to the office — as he did.”
“And why did you invoke the name of the most famous of Apache tribal leaders?”
“Just caprice on my part. It’s a word that US paratroops use when they jump out of planes.”
Wolfe looked like he could chew nails. “Is Fred still here?”
“He’s in the front room.”
“Pay him one hundred dollars.”
“What about Mr. Jurek?”
“It is safe to assume we have not heard the last of the man,” Wolfe said as he rose and walked out of the office.
Chapter 14
The next morning as I was at my desk with coffee after breakfast, Wolfe called from his bedroom. “Telephone Saul,” he said, “and see if he can be here this morning at eleven.”
“Do I tell him what it’s about?”
“No, we will leave that until he is here,” Wolfe said, hanging up abruptly. The man has never learned phone etiquette and never will. I reached Saul Panzer on the first try, and he also was curious as to the reason for the summons, but I told him he would just have to wait, because I was in the dark, as is often the case.
Panzer had planted himself in the red leather chair with a cup of coffee when Wolfe walked in and rang for beer. “Thank you for coming, Saul. How well do you know Albany?”
“Not very. Oh, I’ve been there a few times, including one forgettable occasion when I did a job for a longtime state senator who said he was being followed and wanted me to find out who was dogging him. I ended up spending a cold night on dark Albany streets trailing the guy who was trailing the senator.”
“Don’t leave us in suspense. What happened?” I asked.
“Turned out the stalker, a hardware salesman, had been on wild goose chase. He thought the senator was having an affair with his wife, but when I got them to meet face-to-face, the cuckold realized he had followed the wrong man and apologized profusely. I was paid, but given my time plus the travel, the assignment was only barely profitable.”
“I hope the experience in that city has not soured you on the possibility of revisiting it,” Wolfe said.
“As Bugs Bunny might say, ‘I’m all ears,’” Saul responded.
If anyone else had delivered that line, Wolfe would have reacted with a scowl or a pfui, but given the esteem with which he holds Saul Panzer, he did not react. “As you know, we have learned through Fred that Maureen Carr took a train to Albany and has not been heard from or seen since.”
“Yeah, good work on his part, not that I’m surprised. I’m guessing you want me to hunt the lady down.”
“Your guess is correct. Do you see any impediments to such an undertaking?”
Saul shrugged. “The good news is that Albany is not all that big. Armed with a photo of Miss Carr, I can easily canvass the downtown hotels, and outlying ones as well, if needed. The bad news is twofold: one, we don’t know if she even stayed in a hotel; and two, it has been more than three weeks since she hopped that train north, so she might not even be in Albany anymore. But I’ve faced worse obstacles before, so I am ready to go.”
“Excellent. Archie, do you have anything to add?”
“Saul’s pretty well covered the situation. I’ll give Lily a call, though, just to find out whether she knows if Maureen has any friends or connections in Albany.”
“I can take a train up there today,” Saul said.
Wolfe nodded his approval and I called Lily, who said she knew no one or nothing to connect Maureen Carr to our state capital.
We did not hear from Saul until the next day, when he telephoned while Wolfe was having his afternoon session with the orchids. “I now can write a guidebook about the lobbies of Albany’s hotels,” he said, “although I wouldn’t bet on what kind of sales it would get. On the fifth place I visited, which is probably the best one in town, the desk clerk immediately recognized Miss Carr’s picture.”
“So she stayed there?”
“Right, Archie, for a grand total of two nights.”
“Did she use her own name when she checked in?”
“I’m getting to that. I asked to see the guest register, and, no surprise, I was told rather primly that peeking at that sacred book was against the hotel’s regulations. But the double sawbuck I slid across the counter to the clerk overrode those regulations as well as that primness. Our lady did indeed check into room 419 as Maureen Carr of New York City, and she checked out at noon on the third day.
“I then asked if she had visitors or got any telephone calls, and because the Andrew Jackson I had given the clerk still had wheels, he told me, albeit reluctantly, that a man had come into the lobby, and that he and the woman who’d registered as Maureen Carr left the hotel, and that she returned later — about an hour and a half later — the clerk thought. He described the man to me as ‘fiftyish, rather short, thin, well dressed, and balding.’ In answer to the question that you are about to ask, he said he’d never seen the man before.”
“Well, that’s something of a start. Got anything more to add?”
“The desk clerk, still impressed by the double sawbuck, introduced me to the switchboard operator, who said she had no record of the guest in 419 receiving any calls, and then he put me in touch with the bellhop, who remembered Maureen.”
“Did he also know anything about the man who came to pick up her up?”