“Like the clerk, he said he had never seen the guy before. But he did tell me that the next day, after she had checked out, he hailed a cab for her, and she took it to, of all places, the railroad station.”
“Which means she could either have got a train south down the Hudson, in the direction of New York City, or west, in the direction of Chicago.”
“You must have gotten good grades in geography,” Saul said.
“In high school, I memorized the names of all the Ohio counties, and in alphabetical order no less.”
“Okay, serves me right for bringing up the subject. Do I need to report to Wolfe, or can I trust you to accurately deliver the information to him?”
“When can you take the next rattler back?”
“Funny you should ask. I’m at the Albany depot right now, and a southbound express, not a rattler, is due in fifteen minutes. The trip takes just over three hours.”
“Which means you should get in by a little before nine. When you get in, give me a call from Grand Central. Instructions to follow. And go easy on the drinks in the bar car.”
“Wow, spoken like an executive. I’m impressed.”
“As well you should be.”
When Wolfe descended, I told him Saul could be here to report after our dinner of pork tenderloin in casserole. He dipped his chin an eighth of an inch in approval, rang for beer, and dove into his latest book, Berlin Diary, by William L. Shirer.
Saul phoned when we were in the office with coffee, and I told him to come ahead and said I would give him a scotch if he hadn’t overimbibed on the train.
Saul must have wanted that scotch badly, because he rang the doorbell twelve minutes later. “The bar car was too raucous for my taste,” he said as he came in and peeled off his coat. “A bunch of commuting types from Upstate who couldn’t wait to begin celebrating the end of the workweek. I retired to a quiet coach with a newspaper.”
“Good evening, Saul,” Wolfe said as he dog-eared a page in his book and set it down. “I hope your trip was not too onerous.”
“I survived it, sir,” Saul responded and nodded his thanks when I handed him a scotch. “I am not proud of my results in Albany. You probably should have sent someone else.”
“I will be the judge of that,” Wolfe said. “Proceed.”
Saul gave the same summary I had heard from him, with one addition. “Just before I boarded the train back to Grand Central, I showed the ticket agent in the Albany station the picture of Maureen and gave him the date and the approximate time she would have been in the depot.
“‘Nope, I was here all that day, and I didn’t see her,’ the agent said, handing the photo back. ‘And I sure as heck would have remembered the face.’”
“What does that tell you?” Wolfe asked.
“One of two things. That Maureen paid for her ticket on the train going south out of Albany, or she had bought a round-trip fare at Grand Central.”
“You like to give odds, Saul. Where was she going?”
“Twenty to one, south from Albany. What’s to the west? Syracuse? Rochester? Buffalo? Even Chicago? I see her going only south, getting off somewhere in Westchester County, possibly, or much more likely, back to New York.”
Wolfe turned to me. “Might she have returned to her residence?”
“Hard to believe,” I said. “Lily has been calling her number every three hours for days, without a response. Oh, I suppose it’s possible she’s there and isn’t answering her phone, but that seems unlikely. Want me to go and take a look?”
“Not yet,” Wolfe said, “although we may call upon Miss Rowan soon to investigate. Does either of you have a theory as to why Miss Carr went to Albany?”
“Beats me,” Saul said. “Archie, you are said to be an expert on attractive women and their foibles. Any thoughts?”
“I don’t know who credited me with such expertise, but whatever insights I am supposed to have about the fairer sex have been greatly overrated, as Lily will be only so happy to point out. I pass.”
“I am at a loss as well,” Saul said. “Miss Carr’s trip to Albany left us with more questions than answers.”
Wolfe drew in air and exhaled. “Archie, we need to keep our clients apprised of the latest developments — Mr. Jurek’s rancorous visit and Miss Carr’s decamping to Albany and her subsequent evaporation. Can you arrange to have them here tomorrow at eleven a.m.?”
Arrange I did. Lily said she was anxious for the opportunity to get caught up, while Mason grumped that he should have heard from us sooner.
When our clients arrived at the brownstone the next morning, their moods of the previous day had not changed. Lily was eager and questioning, while Eric Mason crossed his arms over his chest and stewed. Wolfe entered the room, detoured around his desk, and favored our guests with the slightest of bows.
“Will either of you have something to drink, coffee perhaps? Fritz has brewed a fresh pot.” Lily said yes to coffee, Mason shook his head.
“I have asked Mr. Panzer to be present with us this morning, as he, along with the two of us, have some developments to report, although you will not find them to be wholly satisfactory.”
“I hope I haven’t come here for nothing,” Mason said.
“I echo that hope,” Wolfe replied. “Let us begin with a visit paid here by Stanley Jurek, Sofia’s husband, a couple of days ago.”
“That must have been interesting,” Lily said.
“There are myriad definitions of interesting, Miss Rowan,” Wolfe responded. “I will leave it to you to determine which of them best describes the situation. The gentleman was less than pleased with me because of his contention that my questioning of his wife was overzealous and demeaning. He vigorously disputed my version of events, became violent, and had to be forcibly restrained.”
“Bravo to Archie!” Lily said, clapping.
“No, bravo to Fred Durkin,” I corrected her.
“Back to Mr. Jurek,” Wolfe said. “He entered this office unhappy, and he left it unhappy. Also, he seemed to have little interest in Miss Carr’s disappearance. Has either of you had occasion to meet him?”
“Not me,” Mason said. “I’ve only met Sofia once, when I picked Maureen up to go to the theater. And we only exchanged a few words.”
“I’ve never met Mr. Jurek, and I have seen Sofia several times,” Lily put in. “She has often served drinks and hors d’oeuvres at gatherings of our women’s groups. But like Eric, I have barely spoken to her. She seems pleasant but shy and is very self-effacing.”
“That would be natural,” Wolfe said, “given the duties she is asked to perform in her employer’s residence. Now we come to a trip Miss Carr has taken.”
That got the attention of Lily and Mason, and they started talking over each other with their shocked questions. “Please!” Wolfe said, silencing the cacophony, turning to Saul, and saying, “You will want to hear from Mr. Panzer.”
Saul proceeded to describe his encounter with the doorman at Maureen’s building that led to his learning that a taxi had taken her to Grand Central a while back.
“That was lucky,” Mason remarked.
“Mr. Panzer has a way of making events appear to be lucky,” Wolfe remarked, nodding to Saul to continue.
“The real credit goes to Fred Durkin, whose name you heard a couple of minutes ago,” Saul said. “Given the time of day that Miss Carr headed for the big station, I had guessed she might have taken the Twentieth Century Limited. Armed with her photo, Fred followed up and found a redcap at Grand Central who hauled her bag and remembered she was going to Albany.”
“Why would Maureen go to Albany?” Mason asked. “Seems strange.”
“Do you have any thoughts, Miss Rowan?” Wolfe posed.