“I asked if he is an alcoholic,” Saul continued, “and she said that seems likely. But she added that given what she had learned from Maureen, he had a serious addiction, not to drugs but to gambling, particularly horse racing, which is no surprise to us, of course.”
“Did Miss Musgrove say she had met Everett Carr?” Wolfe asked.
“She had, but only on a few occasions. To her, he seemed withdrawn, sullen, possibly suffering from some sort of depression, and he obviously was not interested in his appearance. ‘Seeing him, it was hard to believe that he had come from a wealthy family,’ she said, adding that his sister had a pained look when she was with him.”
“I should think so,” I said. “It’s hard to see someone going down the drain before your eyes.”
“Well, from what you have told me, he is all the way down that drain now,” Saul observed. “Give me the details.”
We filled him in on the Greenwich Village shooting and on Cramer’s visit to the brownstone. “Maybe Everett’s death will flush his sister out from her hideaway, or is that wishful thinking?”
“No, I do not believe it is,” Wolfe said. “Word will by some channel reach Miss Carr about her brother’s death, if it has not already, and she will emerge from what may be a self-imposed exile.”
“Good point,” Saul said. “By the way, I should have mentioned this sooner — Elaine Musgrove gave me a key to her house.”
I started to bark Yes, damn it, you really should have mentioned it sooner! but before I could spit the words out, Wolfe said, “I was hoping to hear that, Saul. A visit to that residence is in order.”
“You heard the man, Archie. Let’s go.”
“Saul, I must intercede here,” Wolfe said. “There will be plenty of time to make that trip to Greenwich Village after lunch. Today’s carte is broiled shad with sorrel sauce and Fritz’s special bread. There will be enough for three.”
“Now you heard the man, Mr. Panzer,” I said. “I vote with my employer.”
“I gracefully yield to the majority,” Saul said with a salute, and we went to the dining room.
It was after two thirty when we climbed out of a cab at Elaine Musgrove’s home on Eleventh Street. “Looks quiet,” I remarked and Saul nodded. He pulled out the key he had gotten in France and opened the front door. We tiptoed in, guns drawn, as if we were expecting company, but we were met only with silence.
By preagreement, I took the ground floor while Saul went upstairs to do his prowling. From everything I saw, the place appeared to be immaculate. Living room, formal dining room, den, and kitchen all were for company. Not even a layer of dust, which would have been expected in the time the lady of the house had been absent.
I went one up one flight and found Saul in what looked like a sitting room, opening drawers and turning over cushions. “Did Miss Musgrove ever tell you that she had a cleaning woman?”
“I asked, and she said, ‘Why should I bother? Each time I come back from France or elsewhere, I have someone come in and do a thorough dusting and sweeping, and she then comes every week after that. Why should I bother keeping the house in pristine condition when I am away? After all, who is here to appreciate it?’”
“The lady has a solid argument,” I told Saul. “But that being the case, why do things seem so spotless here now?”
“Archie, I have been asking myself that for the last few minutes. So far, I haven’t seen any signs of dust.”
“Which means someone — presumably Maureen Carr — has been here recently, very recently.”
“And yet, when I went through the bedrooms, everything was neat and tidy,” Saul said. “I couldn’t see any sign of recent habitation — except...”
“Habitation, now there’s a word Nero Wolfe would use. Wait — what do you mean, except?”
“No matter how well a place gets swept and cleaned up, one thing that is damned near impossible to get rid of is cigarette smoke, and it was definitely in the air in one of the guest bedrooms.”
“So maybe Maureen is a smoker,” I said, “although in the few times I have seen her, I don’t recall seeing her with a cigarette.”
“What about her late brother?” Saul asked.
“Yes, of course!” I said, slapping my forehead. “When Carr’s body was searched, the cops found an opened package of cigarettes, Luckies.”
“Which makes it highly possible that both sister and brother had been camping out in the Musgrove residence.”
“And before they made their exit — maybe because Hirsch and his thug had paid them a visit — Maureen must have done some fast tidying up.” Saul and I continued going through the house from top to bottom without turning up anything significant, although for the record, I also smelled cigarette smoke in one of the rooms.
“Sorry to say this, Archie, but I don’t think that we are any closer to finding Maureen Carr than we were before.”
“Maybe not, although it’s just possible that she has returned to her Park Avenue digs.”
Saul lifted a shoulder. “Hey, it’s worth a visit, at least to see the guy who works in front, the one you said you’ve met.”
We hailed a taxi, whose driver seemed to be in training for the Indianapolis 500 auto race. I shouldn’t complain, though, because he never hit a car, a bus, or another cab, although at least part of the reason for that good fortune was the skill and the honking of the other drivers on the streets he raced along, changing lanes as if he were indeed on that storied Indiana “brickyard.”
When, with a screech of brakes, we pulled up in front of Maureen Carr’s building, I paid the hackie. I was pleased to see Seamus, the doorman, standing erect at his post out front. “You may not remember me,” I told him as the taxi roared away.
“Ah, but I do,” he said with a pleasant Irish lilt and a tip of his billed cap. “I have been told that I have a good eye for faces, and a good memory as well. You would be Mr. Goodwin, if I am not mistaken, and you were here not so very long ago with Sofia and Miss Rowan.”
“You are correct. This is my very good friend Mr. Panzer, and we are here to ask if you have seen Miss Carr since the last time I came.”
“Ah, I of course know Mr. Panzer and have for years, I am happy to say. As for Miss Carr, I have not encountered the lady now for several weeks. I do hope her absence from here is not a cause for concern. She has been away before, of course, but usually not for this long a period.”
“Has Sofia come during that time, other than when we were here along with Miss Rowan?”
“Yes, once, and Miss Rowan also came again, to pick up mail on two occasions. I hope I was not overstepping my authority by allowing her to go upstairs. She showed me a key.”
“Oh no, not in the least,” I assured him and thanked him. He then flagged us a cab, and as we pulled away, I looked out of the back window, seeing the concern etched on his usually smiling face.
Chapter 20
After dropping Saul off at his apartment on Thirty-Eighth Street, I got home to find that Fritz had left a note on my desk informing me that Lily had called.
“Goodwin reporting,” I said when she answered.
“I talked to Sofia a little while ago to see how she was,” Lily said in a subdued tone, “and she was extremely upset.”
“Uh-oh. Has she heard from Maureen?”
“If she has, she didn’t say so. No, it is more that she is worried about her husband and his... troubles.”
“What kind of troubles?”
“It seems that Stan has been gambling away his paychecks on the horses.”