Archie in the Crosshairs

Chapter 16

Two days passed in which we did not hear either from our phantom caller or from Cordelia. But on the third morning, a surprising call came. I was in the office alone, entering orchid germination records, when I answered the phone.

“Mr. Goodwin, this is Parkhurst Hutchinson.” Based on the voice alone, it was hard to believe this was the same bullying, blustering man who had stormed in and stormed out of the office so recently. He spoke in a voice only a couple of levels above a whisper.

“What can I do for you?” I asked in my we-don’t-need-any-of-whatever-you’re-selling tone.

“I don’t blame you for wanting to hang up on me. I behaved poorly the other day, and for that I am sorry. I want to make an appointment to see Mr. Wolfe — along with my daughter.”

“And for what purpose?” I snapped, still angry about having been called a dogsbody, a word I now knew the meaning of. I now also understood his Jeeves reference.

Parkhurst continued: “She and I wish to hire Mr. Wolfe to get to the bottom of this ugly blackmailing business.”

“I cannot speak for Mr. Wolfe, but I will discuss the matter with him later this morning.”

“I... we... are willing to pay whatever he charges,” Hutchinson said, still sounding like a chagrined schoolboy.

“I will pass that information along to Mr. Wolfe.”

“Will you call me when he has made a decision? We can come to see him whenever it is convenient for him.”

I asked for the best number to reach him and said it was likely, but by no means definite, that we would get back to him later in the day.

When Wolfe came down at eleven and got himself firmly planted in the only chair in which he is truly comfortable, I swiveled to face him. “Well, you have done it again,” I said.

“Indeed?”

“Indeed is right. As you predicted, we got a call this morning from his eminence Parkhurst Hutchinson.”

“He was chagrined about his earlier behavior and now desires to hire us,” Wolfe stated as he rang for beer.

“Correct again, oh great reader of minds, although he seeks to become a client in tandem with his daughter. They want to see you together, at any time you specify. It could be a nice payday.”

“You are now singing a far different song than you were after Mr. Hutchinson left here. When I asked how you would feel about having him as a client, you said ‘lousy.’”

“We may have on our hands the ‘new and improved’ version of the man, to use words normally associated with products that are being advertised.”

“Perhaps. Call Mr. Hutchinson and tell him and his daughter to be here at nine tonight.”

As my boss sampled his first beer of the day, I dialed Hutchinson, who picked up before the first ring had ended. “Mr. Wolfe will see you and Cordelia here at nine. Be prompt. Mr. Wolfe has an extremely busy schedule.”

“Oh, we will, Mr. Goodwin, you can be sure of it. Thank you, and please thank Mr. Wolfe.”

After I hung up, Wolfe paused between sips of beer and said, “You seem to have abandoned your usual cordiality.”

“Okay, so I hereby admit that Hutchinson brings out the worst in me. ‘Dogsbody’ my foot.”

“I agree the gentleman is not always tactful. But you already have sensed a change in his demeanor. We will see tonight whether that change can survive our discussion.”

At eight fifty-five, the bell rang. I opened the door to Mr. Hutchinson and his daughter, both of whom smiled and stepped in. He seemed meek and she seemed meeker as I walked them down the hall to the office, where I gave him the red leather chair and her one of the yellow ones. “Mr. Wolfe will be with you shortly,” I said. “Can I get you something to drink?” I asked, motioning to the bar cart against one wall. “As you already know,” I said to Hutchinson, “we have everything from scotch and rye to beer and wine.”

“I believe I will have a scotch on the rocks,” he said, nodding. “What about you, honey?”

Cordelia looked up at me, down at her lap, then up again. “Would you have a dry sherry, by any chance?”

“I would, and it is a good one,” I told her, going to the bar. After I had served them, Wolfe walked in, nodded, sat, and rang for beer. “Good evening. I see you have refreshments. Let us begin.”

“Before we do,” Hutchinson said, holding up a fleshy hand, “I want to apologize for my behavior here on my previous visit. I can only say, in my defense, that I was terribly worried about Cordelia.” He reached over and squeezed his daughter’s hand. “Since then, she and I have had some long and very meaningful father-daughter talks, and I have come to realize the terrible pressures she has been under.” As he talked, Cordelia said nothing, nodding once or twice and studying her hands in her lap.

“She told me everything,” Hutchinson continued, “including her understanding of that gun battle in Central Park, in which I understand Mr. Goodwin was wounded.” He looked at me with what I took to be a sympathetic expression. “She also opened up to us about her... minor indiscretion in Italy,” Hutchinson continued, “and both her mother and I let her know that we support her one hundred percent. As for whomever it is that’s blackmailing her, we want him stopped.”

“What prevents you from going to the police?” Wolfe asked.

“We desire to avoid the publicity, don’t we, darling?” he said. Cordelia nodded, still silent and looking as if she would rather be almost anywhere but here.

“As you may know, my daughter is engaged to a fine young man, Lance Mercer, and she understandably does not want anything to jeopardize their relationship. Even though she did nothing that I consider in any way sinful in Florence, appearances can be damning, including that photograph she showed to her mother and me yesterday. We are hoping that you can find and stop this evil man, and do so as quietly as possible.”

“If I agree to accept this commission, it must be upon my terms and without reservation,” Wolfe said.

“I understand,” Hutchinson said.

“No, sir, I do not believe you do. My agents and I, including Mr. Goodwin, must be free to meet with anyone remotely connected with your daughter. That includes her siblings and her friends.”

“Oh, no!” Cordelia yelped, suddenly coming alive.

“That is my proviso,” Wolfe said. “Without it, I cannot be expected to conduct an effective investigation.”

“But, you don’t have to talk to Lanny, do you?” Cordelia said, sniffling and beginning to tear up.

“We will try to avoid meeting with him,” Wolfe said, turning to me. “How do you feel about that, Archie?”

“I believe we can work around the young man,” I said.

“And must my brothers and sisters know why I am being blackmailed?”

“Mr. Goodwin is a skilled interviewer,” Wolfe said. “When necessary, he can be the very soul of discretion. He will make every effort to avoid specifics.”

I nodded my assent.

“Before we go any further, you need to understand that there is always the possibility we might uncover information you find distasteful, unpleasant, and embarrassing to you and your family,” Wolfe said.

“I’m not sure I follow you,” Hutchinson replied, frowning.

“I am being candid, and I assume you want candor in anyone you hire. You must be prepared for whatever we uncover.”

The tycoon sighed. “We’ll take our chances, won’t we, honey?”

Cordelia nodded, biting a lip.

“Before we conclude, I need something else from you, sir,” Wolfe added. “Without prior warning, Mr. Goodwin may find it difficult to talk to your offspring. You can pave the way for him by explaining to them that your daughter has been threatened — you need not get more specific than that — and that you have hired an investigator in hopes of unearthing the miscreant, and that the investigator may wish to speak to them.”

“Oh, but they might think they are somehow being accused,” Cordelia said.

“Not necessarily,” Wolfe said. “Mr. Goodwin can say he is interviewing everyone who knows you in hopes that one or more of them may have an idea as to who might seek to harm or intimidate you.”

“I believe that is a legitimate approach,” Hutchinson said to his daughter. “These men have had a lot of experience in a world we know nothing of. I will take it upon myself to call your brothers and sisters.” He turned to Wolfe. “We will pay whatever you charge.”

“That will depend on how the investigation progresses,” Wolfe said, “but I can assure you my fee will be no less than fifty thousand dollars, plus expenses. And based upon what I know and anticipate, some of those expenses may run to a considerable amount.”

Neither father nor daughter flinched at the figure, and why should they? I thought. I felt Wolfe was letting them off easy.

“Would you like a check now?” Hutchinson asked.

“For half the amount,” Wolfe said, “with the other half, plus the expenses due, on completion of the assignment.”

America’s most famous railroad executive smoothly drew an alligator-skin checkbook and a gold fountain pen from his breast pocket and wrote out a check to America’s most famous private investigator, placing it on the corner of Wolfe’s desk. “I assure you the money is in my account,” he said. “Do you need to ask questions of either of us now?”

“I think not,” Wolfe said. “Mr. Goodwin will need to get addresses and numbers of all those we feel it necessary to talk to. That can be done by telephone in the morning.”

“Why wait?” Hutchinson said. “We can do that right now. We are anxious to have you start in.”

“Just so,” Wolfe remarked. “I regret that I have another engagement, but you may stay right here and supply Mr. Goodwin with everything he needs.”

With that, he rose, tugged down the points on his vest, and strode out of the room to that other engagement, which I knew to be in the kitchen. We had not consumed all of the shrimp bordelaise Fritz served for dinner, and Wolfe would see to it that there were no leftovers.

I refreshed Hutchinson’s drink, but Cordelia said no to a refill of the sherry. The father was much more forthcoming with supplying information than his daughter. She bridled when I asked her how to reach her friend Marlene Peters. “I really don’t see why you would need to talk to her,” she said plaintively.

“Pumpkin, we need to trust Mr. Goodwin and Mr. Wolfe on this,” her father said softly, reaching over and squeezing her shoulder. “Didn’t you tell us a while back that Marlene’s back in town, and that you had lunch with her? After all, she is probably your best friend and would want what’s in your best interests. You will have to call her and give her a reason a detective needs to talk to her. It wouldn’t make any sense for me to telephone her.”

Cordelia nodded, sighed, and pulled an address book out of her purse. She read off a phone number and an address on the Lower East Side, along with the number of the bookstore where Marlene worked. She even gave me the particulars on how to reach Lance Mercer, though more reluctantly. I tried to assuage her concern by stressing that I would make every effort to avoid talking to him.

Hutchinson himself rattled off the information on Cordelia’s siblings, although when he came to the ne’er-do-well son, Doug, he tightened up noticeably. Apparently, the rift was still there.

I thanked them both for their help and said Wolfe and I would keep them apprised as to our progress. As I escorted them to the front door, Hutchinson seemed bent on playing the role of the hail-fellow-well-met, perhaps to make up for his earlier behavior. Cordelia, on the other hand, seemed even more withdrawn than when they had arrived, which I ascribed to her fear that somehow our investigation would complicate her future with one Lance Mercer.

After the pair rode away in the chauffeur-driven Lincoln that had been purring at our curb during their visit, I headed into the kitchen for a late evening snack. There were several possibilities, but sadly, shrimp bordelaise was not one of them.