“Congratulations on pulling it off. Now I can tell you something: Eric Mason also will be present tomorrow night. He was angry that we hadn’t been in touch with him for a few days, and I heard him out and let him vent. I did not tell him you would be present, so be prepared for a reaction.”
“I will steel myself,” she said.
“I’m sure you will. Come a little early tomorrow night. It would be good if you were already seated when the others arrive.”
Chapter 25
So we were set for tomorrow’s festivities. As usual, I had not caught up with Wolfe and his reasoning, although I had begun to have suspicions. He told me to make sure Saul Panzer would be present to welcome the guests and to serve drinks.
The next day dragged by as they always do when Wolfe is going to stage one of his show-and-tell sessions. I found a variety of ways to pass the time, including bringing the expense ledger up to date and making sure several bills got paid on time.
After a dinner in which Wolfe expounded on the generally positive impact immigration had made on American society in general, I set up the chairs in the office while Saul stocked the beverage cart with a variety of liquors and filled the ice bucket.
At eight thirty, Lily and Maureen arrived, each of them clearly on edge. “Because you are now the client, you get the place of honor, the red leather chair,” I told Maureen, who did not appear to be overly impressed. Then I turned to Lily. “And for you, this chair in the front row — the farthest from me, I’m sorry to say, but that’s how Mr. Wolfe wants it.”
“He probably thinks if I sit close to you, we will murmur sweet nothings to each other, and I don’t have to tell you how he feels about scenes like that.”
“We will just have to do our murmurings some other time. I can wait if you can.”
“It will be difficult,” Lily said, “but then, I’ve got a lot of willpower. Who will be sitting with me in this row?”
“Miles Hirsch, the gambler, and next to you, his bodyguard, Harley Everts.”
“Oh swell. Maybe I can strike up a conversation with this Everts about the brand of brass knuckles he uses.”
“Now don’t you go getting all sarcastic on me,” I told Lily.
“Me, sarcastic, never, my dear. I prefer to call myself a realist.”
“If I can interrupt this snappy patter, Archie,” Maureen said, “as the client, I would like to know the rest of the seating arrangements.”
“You certainly are entitled to that. The second row will have Stan Jurek closest to me, then Sofia and Eric Mason. And the two chairs in the back will be occupied by Inspector Cramer and his sergeant, Purley Stebbins. Oh, and Saul Panzer will be parked on the sofa against the wall as an onlooker.”
No sooner had I got those words out than the bell sounded, which sent Fritz to the front door. Seconds later, followed by the heavy-footed Stebbins, Cramer stepped in, looked around, noted the presence of Lily, Maureen, and Panzer, and scowled. “Miss Rowan, I have known you since you were a child, and as you are aware, I knew and respected your father — a fine man, and one who helped me early in my career. I can only guess how he would feel if he knew you were a party to these Wolfe-Goodwin shenanigans.”
“Oh, I think he would be just fine with them, Inspector, just like he was fine nurturing your career back when you were pounding the beat.” Cramer made a face but did not respond.
“And, Inspector,” Lily continued, “this is Maureen Carr, a very good friend of mine who is here to learn who killed her brother.”
Before Cramer could respond, the bell chimed again, and the Jureks came into the office, looking around nervously. They were followed immediately by Eric Mason, whose expression when he saw Maureen was one for the ages. His face went from shock to pleasure to anger in matter of seconds. “Why... you are... how...?”
To prevent the man from becoming a babbling idiot, Maureen quietly said, “We will talk later, Eric. Now is not the time.”
That shut him up, and he plopped down where I directed as the Jureks also sat without complaint and without uttering a word.
The next, and last, sounding of the doorbell brought Miles Hirsch and his sidekick Everts in, each of them looking like he would rather be anywhere else.
I got the pair seated in the front row. Hirsch started to speak, but he was interrupted by the arrival of Wolfe, who detoured around his desk and got seated. He surveyed the gathering and spoke each person’s name, ending with Cramer and Stebbins.
“What the hell are those two doing here?” Hirsch demanded as he looked over his shoulder and jabbed a gnarled finger at two of New York’s Finest. “You got the cops in your pocket?” he demanded of Wolfe.
“Shut up, or we’ll shut you up!” Cramer barked. “We are here as observers right now, although more outbursts from you might alter our role.”
“Mr. Cramer is correct that he and Sergeant Stebbins are here as observers, and they are present at my invitation and remain at my sufferance. Do you have any further questions, Mr. Hirsch?”
The gambler folded his arms across his chest and shook his head.
“Good, now if we may continue, I am going to have beer,” Wolfe said, pressing the buzzer in the leg-hole of his desk. “Would anyone else like something to drink? We have a well-stocked bar.”
“I didn’t realize this was to be a cocktail party,” Mason huffed, apparently still sore at Maureen for not having communicated with him.
“I’ll have some of Wolfe’s hootch like I did one other time here. Give me that good scotch again,” Hirsch said. “With a dash of water — and I mean only a dash.”
“Me, too,” grunted Everts.
“Oh, what the hell, I’ll play along,” Mason said. “Make mine a rye on the rocks.”
Wolfe nodded to Saul, who rose from his perch on the sofa, a tweed sports coat nicely hiding the S&W snub-nosed .38 nestled in his shoulder holster. He went to the bar cart and began preparing the drinks. After they had been delivered, Wolfe took a sip of the beer Fritz had brought in and again looked over the assemblage.
“I ask your patience, as we are dealing with a complex consecution.”
“What the hell is a consecution?” Hirsch demanded.
“A sequence of events,” Mason said irritably. “We had better not interrupt the man, or we may end up here all night.”
“Thank you, sir,” Wolfe said. “I will not keep any of you here longer than is necessary to explain the denouement.”
“What is a denou — oh, never mind,” Hirsch said. “This guy” — he gestured toward Mason — “is right. Can’t we move this along? We’ve all got places to be, I’m sure.”
“Let us then proceed,” Wolfe said. “This all began as a missing persons case, and that individual is Maureen Carr, who is now, ironically, my client.” Wolfe glanced in her direction. “I was hired by Lily Rowan and Eric Mason to locate Miss Carr, who had not been seen for days and who failed to appear at one or more social functions where she had been expected. She also had been absent from her own home for an extended period, which puzzled her housekeeper, Mrs. Jurek.
“Even with the help of Mr. Goodwin and other investigators I often employ, we were initially unsuccessful in locating our subject — that is, until through some dogged research we learned she had been up in the Albany area, dining with Mr. Hirsch.”
“Now wait a minute, damn it, whose word do you have for that?” Miles Hirsch demanded, rising halfway out of his chair.
“Do you deny the occurrence, sir? Perhaps we should ask Miss Carr about that meal at a roadhouse north of Albany.” Wolfe turned to Maureen.