Archie Goes Home

Chapter 24

The next call to the house came as no surprise to me. “It’s Katie Padgett,” my mother said, again giving me the receiver. “I appreciate your handling my calls,” I told her as I cupped the mouthpiece.

“Hi, Katie, you have certainly been one busy young lady.”

“What did you think of it all, Archie?’ she asked in an anxious tone.

“I must say I have mixed feelings. It’s quite a package, and I am glad to see the Trumpet is not buying Blankenship’s position. But it seems like the paper has opened itself up to all sorts of lawsuits, in the areas of both libel and privacy, although I am no expert on press law. Also, it looks like you are trying to drop a noose over Carrie Yeager’s head, to use a phrase.”

“How can you say that?”

“You certainly did not portray her in a very good light.”

“She does not deserve to be put in a very good light, Archie. After all, you were there when I interviewed her in Charleston.”

“Has Blankenship called you? He must have seen the paper by now.”

“He telephoned Marty, not me.”

“That would be Martin Chase, your crusading young editor, right?”

“Don’t be sarcastic, Archie. Yes, the chief called him, and he was mad as hell. He said the Trumpet was behaving, and I quote, ‘like one of those big-city tabloids, the kind that you would find in New York or Chicago.’”

“He does have a point there. Did he also indicate that he would begin a murder investigation, based on today’s issue?”

“Marty asked him that question and was told that our coverage has done nothing whatever to change his mind.”

“Is it too early to ask what kind of reaction the Trumpet is getting from its readers?”

“No, Archie, and that’s really exciting. Marty figured there would be plenty of reaction, and he brought in two operators to run our small switchboard, starting at eight o’clock. They can’t keep up with the calls.”

“Did he tell you how the pros and cons were running?”

“Yes, I talked to him just before I called you, and he said people who didn’t approve of what we wrote were outnumbering the ones who liked it by about two to one.”

“That must not make him very happy.”

“On the contrary. Marty says it’s okay to get people angry as long as they talk about you. And right now, he says that we are the talk of the town.”

“I am sure you are. But you may be the talk of the legal community, as well.”

“Marty says it’s possible we might get sued by somebody who we’ve written about, but he claims that’s the risk one takes when one stakes out a strong position. Oh, and one other thing: People have been streaming into the office off the street buying copies of the paper at the front counter, several dozen folks so far. One woman bought four copies, another took three, and others took more than one. I’m told that has almost never happened before.”

“Do you have any idea how the Trumpet’s owners feel about all this notoriety?”

“I don’t, Archie. The editor, if you want to call him that, is Mr. Ferguson, who doesn’t do any editing. He’s really the publisher and owner, and he’s the one who okayed hiring Marty. I’ve heard that some of the other newsroom people who have to report to Marty think he’s too rash and impulsive. But I happen to think he’s just what the paper needs to be relevant.”

“You could be right about that, but I happen to believe both Blankenship and your boss are wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“Blankenship is wrong in believing Mulgrew’s death was a suicide, and the Trumpet is wrong in pushing for Carrie Yeager as his killer.”

“Okay, then do you care to nominate a killer?”

“I do not.”

“Well, Archie, we will just have to see how it all plays out. I for one think this is incredibly energizing,” Katie said in a smug tone. “And after all, we did not use any names.”

“You really didn’t have to,” I said. “The great majority of your readers will be able to recognize each of the so-called suspects by the way they were described. As I said earlier, I don’t claim to know anything about libel laws, but I will be surprised if somebody doesn’t sue the Trumpet over this story.”

“Marty says that we and our lawyers will be ready for them,” Katie replied.

I couldn’t think of a response to that, so I just told her that I had to take my mother shopping and we hung up.

“I’m sorry to have been eavesdropping, Archie, but I don’t have to go shopping.”

“I know you don’t, but I’d had enough of the girl reporter for now. This Mulgrew business is not going well.” I then repeated to her what I’d told Katie about both Blankenship and the Trumpet being on the wrong track.

“So you believe Logan Mulgrew was murdered, and that the Yeager woman is not his killer?”

“That’s it, Mom,” I said, leaning back and shaking my head. “But I can’t figure out who did the killing, and it scares the daylights out of me that Carrie Yeager might end up getting nailed for it.

“Factor number one: Blankenship may be both earnest and honest; but brilliant he is not, and stubborn he is. He has claimed so often that Mulgrew killed himself that now he can’t bear to admit that he could be wrong. He doesn’t want to lose face.

“Factor number two: This hotshot new editor of the Trumpet wants to be able to crack the case and claim some glory. And Katie, who’s also looking for some glory, has been pushing Carrie Yeager as the killer.”

My mother sat at the dining room table with me and poured a fresh cup of coffee for each of us from the pot. “What makes you think Miss Yeager didn’t do the shooting, Archie?”

“I can’t explain it, Mom. It’s just a feeling I’ve got. If Nero Wolfe were here, he would probably figure it all out like that,” I said, snapping my fingers. “But at the risk of stating the obvious, I am no Nero Wolfe, not by a country mile. Other than getting the chance to spend time with you, which has been delightful, I don’t know why I came down here. Well... yes I do. I was too damned full of myself, and when dear Aunt Edna laid out her suspicions about Mulgrew’s death, I thought I would just wade in and find the shooter within a day or two. Well, you now see the result of my pride...”

“I’m glad you came, but I’m sorry that things have turned out this way. What do you plan to do now?”

“I think, if you don’t mind, I’ll hang around for a couple more days, if only to see how this business plays out. If nothing else, it will be interesting to see the community’s reaction to the Trumpet coverage, which I gather so far from Aunt Edna and Katie has been mixed.”

“Why would I mind, for heaven’s sake? This is the longest you’ve stayed here with me in years, and I happen to be enjoying it.”

“Even though you’ve turned into a glorified telephone answerer for me?” My mother didn’t have time to respond, because, as if on cue, the instrument rang.

“Hello? Oh yes, Chief, yes. That will be all right. And he does happen to be here now.”

She hung up and turned to me. “As I’m sure you could tell, that was Chief Blankenship. He’s coming over, and he wanted to be sure you were around.”

“That spells trouble of some sort. All right, I will gird myself and prepare for the worst.”

Fifteen minutes later, the doorbell rang, and Mom admitted the police chief in his crisply pressed uniform. “Please come in,” she said. “I am just brewing a fresh pot of coffee.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Goodwin. I am sorry to intrude, but I felt this visit was necessary.” Blankenship sat on the living room sofa as directed, and my mother served him coffee as I walked in. “Good morning, Chief,” I said, taking a chair facing him.

“I don’t happen to think this is such a good morning,” the policeman said, his square-jawed face locked in a grim expression. “I am sure you’ve had a chance to read the paper.”

“We both have,” Mom said as she sat and eyed Blankenship. “What do you think?”

“I think the coverage is a disgrace,” he said. “And I’m sorry to say this, Mrs. Goodwin, but I lay a large part of the blame on your son.”

“Really? And just why is that, Chief Blankenship?”

“He has been a bad influence on that young reporter. He’s been a real Svengali.”

“As a onetime English teacher, I am glad to learn that you must have read Mr. du Maurier’s novel Trilby, but I can hardly see my son in the role of that controlling, manipulating fictional character you mentioned.”

“Don’t be too sure of that. It seems that since Mr. Goodwin arrived in town, Katie Padgett has been energized to the point that she is determined to stir up trouble over the death of Logan Mulgrew.”

“If I may put my two cents’ worth in,” I said, “you should know that I have had almost nothing to do with Miss Padgett’s reporting. She is now being spurred on by that new young editor at the Trumpet.”

“That may very well be,” Blankenship said, “but you also seem to have taken a great interest in Mr. Mulgrew’s death. I continue to believe your presence here is an unsettling factor. Now I know the limits of my authority, and I realize that I can’t force you to leave, but I really wish you would, for the overall good of the community.”

“Chief Blankenship, I gather that you continue to believe Logan Mulgrew killed himself,” I said.

“I do. And I gather that you continue to believe he was murdered. Do you have a suspect in mind?”

“No, it could be one of several people.”

“That is far from helpful, Mr. Goodwin. It would appear that the Trumpet would have us believe, although they did not use her name, that the caregiver is the most likely suspect. How do you feel about that?”

“I don’t believe it.”

“All right. Tell me why you think Mulgrew was killed.”

“By all accounts, the man seemed to be enjoying life, and there did not appear to be any indication that he was devastated by his wife’s death. Although I do not subscribe to the Trumpet’s somewhat breathless tabloid treatment of the Mulgrew story, it seems to me they did a fairly thorough job of suggesting people — and not just Miss Yeager — who had strong reasons to dislike the banker. It seems clear that you do not agree.”

“No one has yet to show me a compelling case for murder. Or a compelling case for any one individual as the killer, for that matter,” Blankenship said, rising. “Thank you for the coffee, Mrs. Goodwin. I hope to continue seeing you around town, in less-tense circumstances.”

It was obvious that, by “less-tense circumstances,” Blankenship meant with me no longer present in the community.