Archie Goes Home

Chapter 28

On the one hand, I was both surprised and pleased that Nero Wolfe had gone against the grain, traveling several hundred miles in an automobile, an almost unthinkable and reckless enterprise for him. On the other hand, I was frustrated with his inertia, to use the man’s own term.

I was hired by Wolfe years ago at least in part to serve as a burr under his saddle. He knows damned well that he often needs to be goaded into action, and I see myself as the goader-in-chief. It can be a thankless task, however, because he is every bit as stubborn as I am. At this time, I saw us as being in a war of wills — a war that I was determined to win.

I was back downstairs when my mother and Saul came in carrying a bunch of bulging grocery bags. “Well, that was interesting,” she said.

“What was interesting, Mom?”

“We were at Kroger’s, in the meat department, when who did we run into but your aunt Edna.”

“Uh-oh.”

“Yes, uh-oh. As will not surprise you, she was very curious as to why I was with Saul. I had no choice but to introduce them to each other, and she said, ‘Saul Panzer, my, what an unusual name. And where do you happen to be from, Mr. Panzer?’

“Saul, bless him, let me do all the talking. So I told Edna that Saul was staying with us, along with Nero Wolfe. And I wish you could have seen her eyes — bigger than saucers, they were. I’m sorry that I let the cat out of the bag, but I did not feel that I had any other choice.”

“You really didn’t, Mom.”

“And now, of course, thanks to our family’s very own town crier, word will be all over town and throughout the county that Mr. Wolfe is here.”

“It was bound to happen sooner or later, Mrs. Goodwin,” Saul said. “Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.”

“I agree with Saul,” I said. “It saves us having to pussyfoot around until Wolfe finally starts kicking his gray matter into high gear. By the way, what’s he making for dinner tonight?”

“Planked porterhouse steak,” Mom said. “Saul and I were able to get a fine cut, two inches thick as specified by Mr. Wolfe, to be served with mashed potatoes, mushrooms, and slices of fresh lime. Fortunately, I have an oak cooking plank that I haven’t used in ages.”

“I’ve eaten Wolfe’s planked steak, although not for several years, and I can tell you that we are all in for a fine dinner tonight,” I said. “Even Fritz Brenner, who does not always approve of the dishes his boss cooks, has praised this one.”

Mom and Saul put away the groceries and gave me two out-of-town newspapers I had requested for Wolfe, the New York Times and the Chicago Tribune, the New York Gazette not being available at the local magazine and cigar shop; I took them up to him and said, “The grocery items you requested have been purchased and will be ready for you — after lunch, of course.” He gave me his version of a nod and began tackling the newspapers.

“Oh, and speaking of lunch, it will be served at one, chicken with mushrooms and tarragon.” Another nod. He really was resting on that cushion of hospitality, thanks to my overindulgent mother.

I went down to the living room and sat with my last cup of coffee of the morning, wondering who would be the first to call as word of Wolfe being in town got around. I gave odds of three-to-two for Katie Padgett, two-to-one for Aunt Edna, and three-to-one for Police Chief Blankenship.

Twenty minutes later, I declared myself a winner. “Telephone for you, Archie,” my mother said, handing me the receiver and stretching the cord as far as it would reach.

“Hello, Archie,” Katie Padgett said in a decidedly cool tone. “I understand there is a newsworthy visitor in your mother’s house.”

“It depends on how you define newsworthy,” I responded.

“Well, I define the most-famous private detective in America as being newsworthy,” she said in a snappish tone.

“Actually, I believe Nero Wolfe would prefer to be referred to as the most-famous private detective in the world.”

“Have it your way, Archie. Why does he happen to be here?”

“I’m curious by nature. How did you learn that he’s in town?”

“That’s unimportant. Answer me.”

“I think you can guess the answer to your own question.”

“This is big news, Archie. I need to interview him, and as soon as possible.”

“Sorry, but I can speak for Mr. Wolfe when I say he is not available to the press.”

“Then I will write that he is here to investigate Logan Mulgrew’s death and refuses to comment.”

“Really? I thought your bosses had declared a moratorium on articles about the Mulgrew death. How are you going to get around that?” The silence on the other end continued for several seconds.

“I’ll... figure something out,” she finally replied, which told me that she felt stymied, at least for the moment. “Good-bye, Archie,” she said before I heard the click. I had been dismissed, but I knew I had not heard the last of the intrepid young female reporter.

I barely had time to finish my coffee when the phone squawked again, and my mother answered. She was getting used to the traffic over the wire.

“Yes, yes, he is right here,” she said, handing me the receiver and rolling her eyes. “It’s Chief Blankenship.”

“Goodwin speaking,” I said.

“Tom Blankenship.” I waited for him to say more, but no words were forthcoming. Finally, I broke the silence. “Yes, sir?”

“You know of course why I’m calling.”

“I am not sure that I do.”

“Don’t try to get cute with me, Mr. Goodwin. Let’s get straight to the point, shall we?”

“By all means.”

“I have heard that Nero Wolfe is in town, and that he is staying at your mother’s house. Is that true?”

“It is.”

“Just why is he here?”

“I will answer a question with a question, Chief. Is he being accused of breaking a law?”

“Of course not, but it seems most unusual that a famous — make that legendary — private investigator from New York has chosen to spend time in what to him must seem like a very small community. I would like to talk to Mr. Wolfe.”

“I certainly will tell him of your desire, but knowing him, I can’t guarantee that he will wish to speak to you, unless there is an extremely good reason.”

“It is my belief that he is here to investigate the gunshot death of Logan Mulgrew.”

“A death you have steadfastly claimed to be a suicide.”

“You are correct.”

“Such being the case, I fail to understand what you have to discuss with Nero Wolfe. It seems you are comfortable with your decision regarding the death.”

“I am concerned that Mr. Wolfe might be interfering with a police investigation.”

“I was unaware that any sort of police investigation into Mulgrew’s death is in progress.”

Blankenship’s sigh was loud enough that it came over the wire. “Mr. Goodwin, I warn you — and by extension, Nero Wolfe — that despite the fame that both of you possess, I will act decisively if I feel the authority of my police department is being superseded.”

“That is quite a speech, Chief. I will convey your feelings to Mr. Wolfe. Is there anything else?”

“Nothing else, sir. Good-bye.”

I went up to Wolfe’s room and found him reading his book, having gone through both newspapers, which lay neatly folded on a bedside table. “I just got off the telephone with both Miss Padgett of the Trumpet and Chief Blankenship of the local constabulary. They each seem interested in talking to you.”

“Pfui. What would be gained by such interactions at this point?”

“That is essentially what I told them,” I said, repeating each of my conversations.

“Satisfactory. I will doubtless meet them eventually.”