Archie Goes Home

Chapter 14

“Well, what did you think of Mr. Mapes?” my mother asked when we were in the car on our way home.

“Bitter, by his own admission. And far from regretful over the demise of one Logan Mulgrew.”

“Do you think Mr. Mapes had anything to do with that demise, Archie?”

“I would like to be able to give you a definitive answer, but I can’t. Do you know if Mulgrew ever foreclosed on any other farmers?”

“I don’t, but I suppose it wouldn’t be surprising. We had a couple of bad farming years a while back.”

“Yes, I remember that you wrote me about it at the time.”

“There is no reason I would have heard about any other foreclosures. I think that when that happens, most people are so embarrassed they try to keep it quiet. The reason I knew about the Mapes situation was that he was so public in his anger toward Mulgrew.”

“Well, it’s obvious that anger hasn’t gone away,” I said. “The man is seething just below the surface, like a volcano ready to erupt.”

“Or is it possible that he already has erupted?” my mother asked.

“Say, there could be a place for you in the detective business. You have just the right amount of skepticism, or is it cynicism? I can never get those two straight, but don’t tell Wolfe. He is forever critiquing my grammar and usage.”

“You poor thing. And yet you always got good grades in school.”

“Yeah, but I never had an English teacher who was as much of a stickler as Nero Wolfe, although you corrected me at home on occasion.”

“That does not seem to have scarred you emotionally.”

“I’ve learned to live with it,” I said as we returned to my mother’s home. No sooner were we inside than the telephone began ringing. “It’s for you,” Mom said, again cupping the phone. “Katie Padgett.”

“Hi, Archie,” she said when I was on the line. “I’m wondering what, if anything, you’ve been able to find out.”

“Not a lot. I have spent a little time with both Purcell and Mapes, but I can’t say I’ve learned much other than to find them both angry.”

“About Mulgrew, of course.”

“Of course. And what have you found out since we last talked?”

“I’ve got a lead on where Carrie Yeager is.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I finally used the brain I was given and talked to the woman who oversees the apartment building downtown that Carrie moved into after Mulgrew died. I told her that I was a friend of Carrie’s and needed to get hold of her because she had left some of her clothes and other personal items with me. It turns out Carrie had given the woman her forwarding address, which I had hoped. She’s living in Charleston, West Virginia, now, and I have the address.”

“Any idea why Charleston?”

“No, but she sure left this town quietly. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about Carrie lately, and I’m wondering if we haven’t overlooked her as a suspect.”

“Why would she have wanted to kill Mulgrew, Katie?”

“I don’t know. Maybe she hoped that he would marry her or at least leave her a nice chunk of his fortune, the latter of which didn’t happen from what I’ve heard.”

“I’ve also heard that Miss Yeager did not get anything from the Mulgrew estate,” I said. “But presuming she knew she wasn’t included in the will, what good would it do her to kill him?”

“As was once written, ‘Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,’” Katie said.

“I’ve heard that line, too, but I have to wonder if Carrie Yeager’s fury, if that’s indeed what it was, would have been enough to drive her to murder,” I observed.

“Maybe not, but don’t you think that it would be worthwhile to go down to Charleston?”

“Will your paper send you down there on assignment?”

“Not those cheapskates, Archie. But I am owed some time, and my editors don’t have to know what I do with my days off.”

“All in the interest of surprising your bosses with a scoop, right?”

“Could be. Are you game?”

“Why not? It’s not that long a drive. Any idea if Miss Yeager has gotten herself a job in Charleston?”

“No, but I have a feeling that it won’t be that hard to find out. Have you ever been to Charleston before?” Katie asked.

“We passed through it once when I was a kid. My father had entered his prize bull in a competition at the West Virginia State Fair, which is somewhere farther down in that state. He thought he’d have a better chance than at Ohio’s fair, which is much larger.”

“Did he win?”

“The bull took a second-place ribbon in its category, which was a damn sight better than it would have done up in Columbus, so I guess you could call it a successful trip. I recall that my father was unusually happy on the drive back home.”

“That’s better than my memory of West Virginia,” Katie said. “As a family, we took a driving vacation down there when I was in grade school, and it poured buckets with thunder and lightning for three solid days. We couldn’t go horseback riding or hiking or even canoeing.”

“Well, if you are serious about going to Charleston, we could do it tomorrow. There’s no rain in the forecast.”

“Sounds good, and it will give me a chance to see a real live detective at work.”

“Try to contain your excitement,” I told her.