“Sorry,” I said, turning to the ladies. “I would rather be driving you in the convertible, but Art is right. This isn’t the weather for it.”
“He seemed kind of cute,” Maureen remarked. “Too bad he doesn’t have a girl.”
“Hah, don’t let Art fool you. He doesn’t have a girl because he has a wife, and a damned nice-looking one, too. Along with two kids.”
“Enough of this idle chatter,” Lily said. “Onward, Jeeves.”
I dropped the women off at Maureen’s Park Avenue palace and idled at the curb while they went upstairs to gather some of her clothes. The doorman, Seamus, strode up to the Heron wearing his big, toothy Irish grin and said, “Hello, Mr. Goodwin. It is so nice to see Miss Carr back again. She has been away for some time now.”
“She has, and I suspect she will be in and out for a while, but I agree that it’s good that she has returned.” I jawed with Seamus about such topics as the weather and the Giants’ chances of getting into the World Series for close to a half hour. When the ladies finally came down, they were carrying a pair of suitcases and several dresses on hangers in zippered bags.
“How long before you have to come back here and replenish your wardrobe?” I asked Maureen.
“Oh, just ignore him,” Lily countered. “Men love to see us looking nice, but they never appreciate how hard we work to please them.”
My answer was a sigh as I pulled away and drove to Lily’s building, where, to show that I was not the churl Lily likes to make me out to be, I helped cart the clothes up to the penthouse. After bidding the women good-bye and getting hugs of thanks and even a kiss from Lily, I returned home.
Chapter 24
When I walked into the office, I saw that Wolfe had returned from his afternoon session with the orchids and was leaning back at his desk as if asleep.
“I certainly hope I am not disturbing you,” I said.
He opened his eyes, blinked at me, and sniffed. “I have procrastinated,” he announced. “Call Miss Carr. I wish to speak to her.”
I called Lily’s number, and when she answered, I told her Nero Wolfe wanted words with Maureen. “Really? I will get her,” Lily replied.
Wolfe picked up his phone, and I stayed on. “Miss Carr, you earlier said you wanted to hire me to name the killer of your brother. Is your offer still on the table?”
“It certainly is, Mr. Wolfe. And I assure you that you will not find me a difficult negotiator regarding fees.”
“That can wait for a later discussion, madam. For me to proceed, I may request help of a nonfinancial nature.”
“All you have to do is ask,” Maureen replied, “and I will do whatever I can.”
“Satisfactory. Expect to hear from Mr. Goodwin.”
After we all hung up, I turned to Wolfe. “What did I miss?”
“Miss? Nothing significant I am aware of.”
“When I was gone did you...?”
“Did I what, Archie?” Wolfe snapped.
“Never mind.” What I was about to ask him: Did you do that lip trick of yours while I was gone? (I was referring, of course, to when Wolfe was in the process of solving a case, he would go into some sort of trance and his lips world go out and in, out and in before he awoke with the solution.) I never brought the subject up later, and I suppose I will never find out what he was up to in my absence. I shifted gears. “What kind of help are you going to need from Maureen Carr?”
Wolfe pulled in air and exhaled. “I want her to use what persuasive powers she possesses to get Stanley and Sofia Jurek to the brownstone at a time to be determined. Also, I want you to do likewise regarding Miles Hirsch and his bodyguard, Harley Everts.”
“An interesting challenge. This begins to sound suspiciously like what Inspector Cramer refers to as one of your seances. Who else needs to be roped in?”
“Miss Rowan and Eric Mason, our former clients. By the way, it is possible Mr. Mason does not know that Miss Carr has returned.”
“He probably isn’t aware of it, unless Maureen herself has informed him. Okay, we know who you want present, now as to the when.”
“Tomorrow night, nine o’clock,” Wolfe said.
“Easy for you to say. When we make our calls, do we tell the invitees the purpose of the meeting?”
“The naming of Everett Carr’s murderer.”
I was not surprised. “And I suppose you will want Cramer present as well.”
“I will personally offer him the opportunity to attend.”
“Any suggestions on what I can use as bait to get Hirsch and his thug to make an appearance?”
“Over the years, I have been impressed by your persuasive powers. Bring those powers into play once again.”
“All right, next question: Are you going to give Maureen Carr her assignment, or do you expect me to?”
“You always have had a good understanding of young women and how they think.”
“Hah! You are giving me far too much credit. But I see that I have been given yet another task.” Wolfe’s response was to open an orchid catalog that had arrived in the morning mail. There was to be no further discussion, as is so often the case.
I figured I might as well start on the hardest task first, and I was hardly surprised to find that Miles Hirsch was not listed in the Manhattan phone directory. That meant a call to Lon Cohen.
“Yeah?” he answered after a couple of rings.
“I need some information,” I told him.
“I’ll try to mask my surprise. What is it this time?”
“Hey, don’t get all uppity,” I told him. “There may be a scoop here for you.”
“Talk is cheap, Archie. What is it you need?”
“An unlisted phone number. And I believe you have the resources at your mighty journal to accommodate me.”
“Flattery won’t get you anywhere. Give me the name.”
“Miles Hirsch.”
“Why am I not shocked? The very same fellow you had me pull the clips on. Now I really do begin to smell a scoop.”
“Stop salivating. Can you get me his phone number?”
“I’ll call you back — soon,” Lon said and hung up.
“Soon” turned out to be ten minutes, and Lon fed me the number. “Just remember who your friends are,” he said.
“How can I forget, as often as you keep reminding me?”
I dialed the number Lon had given me, and the call was answered by a male in what seemed to be an English accent, or some approximation. “Mr. Hirsch’s residence,” he intoned.
“I would like to speak to Miles Hirsch,” I said after getting the standard who-may-I-ask-is-calling response and giving my name.
There was silence on the line for close to a half minute, and then the English voice was back. “I am so sorry, sir, but Mr. Hirsch is indisposed.”
“Oh dear, I’m sorry as well. I do hope it is nothing serious. Please tell Mr. Hirsch that we were so hoping he might be able to attend an important meeting at Mr. Nero Wolfe’s residence at nine o’clock tomorrow night. It promises to be very important to Mr. Hirsch’s business interests, and to his standing in the community.”
Another silence, this time shorter. “Goddamn it, Goodwin, just what are you trying to pull? And how did you get this number?” Hirsch shouted as I jerked the receiver away from my ear.
“Pull? I am not sure what you mean, Mr. Hirsch. Mr. Wolfe was concerned that you might regret missing a gathering at his home that could affect your future.”
“Now listen to me, and listen good, you two-bit private peeper. Nobody, and I mean nobody, tells me where I’ve got to be and when. You got that?”
“I certainly do, Mr. Hirsch. Mr. Wolfe will be sorry for your absence, as will Police Inspector Cramer, who I understand was looking forward to meeting you.”