Archie in the Crosshairs

Chapter 25

If Wolfe’s statement was intended to get their attention, it did the trick. Everyone started talking at once, although the booming voice of the railroad titan quickly overwhelmed the others.

“Just what do you mean by saying that?” Parkhurst Hutchinson demanded. “I thought we were here because of a blackmailing. Yet these men investigate homicides, don’t they?” he said, gesturing with a thumb toward Cramer and Stebbins.

“This case goes well beyond blackmailing,” Wolfe said. “If you will be patient, I shall reconstruct the events that led us to be together tonight. First, I must offer an apology.”

“What for?” Doug blurted out. “For dragging us here when we’d all rather be someplace else?”

Wolfe ignored the young artist. “I apologize for not identifying the complexities of this case more quickly. What I originally determined to be two discrete concernments were inextricably bound together. I should have realized this far sooner. For that, I stand chagrined.”

“Pretty fancy talk,” Annie Hutchinson said. “Do you think you can make it clearer for us simple folk?”

“I shall endeavor to do so. The plotting, if it can be so termed, was ill-designed and convoluted, with so many elements and moving parts that it eventually collapsed under its own weight.”

“Just what are these two discrete concernments?” Tom Hutchinson asked. “You lost me there, and I suspect you lost some others as well, unless I am particularly dense, which of course is possible.”

Wolfe drank beer and dabbed his lips with a handkerchief. “There was the blackmailing, of course, and there also was a plan afoot to kill Mr. Goodwin, which came perilously close to succeeding.” Wolfe turned to me with an expression that was the closest thing to affection I had ever seen from him.

His comment got the assemblage riled up again, as every face in the room turned toward me with varying expressions of shock and amazement.

“You had better explain that,” Cramer said, “and do it very thoroughly.”

“As you are well aware, Inspector, I have made numerous enemies over the years. One of these individuals came out of the woodwork recently, both with verbal threats delivered by telephone and with apparent attempts upon Mr. Goodwin’s life as a way to get revenge against me.”

“The gunshots from a car fired on this block one night, and the bullet holes in your front windows,” Cramer supplied.

“Yes, and some time later, as I will get into, a gunshot fired at point-blank range that Mr. Goodwin barely survived.”

“I want to know right now what—”

Wolfe held up a hand. “Later, Inspector. First the blackmailing, which Mr. Hutchinson has commissioned me to investigate. Cordelia Hutchinson received telephone calls, letters, and a seemingly incriminating photograph. The caller said that if Miss Hutchinson did not pay a sizable amount, in cash, the photograph would be made public.”

“The son of a bitch,” Tom said.

“Perhaps. Miss Hutchinson came to me with the notes and the photograph, saying she knew of my reputation and wanted me to get the other copies of the photograph back, even though it meant paying the money.”

“This was a job for the police,” Cramer snorted.

“I suggested that to her, but she strongly demurred.”

“You should have insisted!”

“Mr. Cramer, let us have this discussion at another time. Miss Hutchinson, am I correct that you did not recognize the caller’s voice?”

“Correct, I didn’t recognize it,” Cordelia said, after clearing her throat.

“She also told me the incriminating photograph came to her by mail,” Wolfe said. “I believe this. However, I also believe that the blackmail notes, which I have, were created by Miss Hutchinson herself.”

“What! Are you out of your mind?” It was Cordelia’s father, who came halfway out of his chair.

“I believe my sanity to be intact, thank you,” Wolfe said. “When Miss Hutchinson brought us the notes, both printed in ink with block letters, I asked about the envelopes, which she said she had thrown away.”

“What of it?” Kathleen asked.

“Come now, Mrs. Willis. Would anyone who has received a blackmail letter — and kept it — throw away the envelope it came in? That goes against the very essence of human nature. If for no other reason, an envelope would instinctively be saved in part for any evidence of the sender’s identity it might provide — such as fingerprints. There were never any envelopes.”

Cordelia was staring at her lap and vigorously twisting a hanky. Her parents both looked at her, but she kept her head down.

“Does this mean Miss Hutchinson planned her own blackmailing? It does not,” Wolfe said, answering his own question and flipping a palm. “However, it does indicate the thrall in which she was held by the telephone caller and her terror at the photograph being made public. This individual also told her — perhaps insisted — that she should engage me to have the ransom money delivered to a specified location.”

Annie Hutchinson raised her hand like a pupil in a classroom and Wolfe nodded toward her.

“Just a minute,” she said. “How did this phone caller know you would even accept the assignment?”

“A very good question. The caller was taking a chance on my acceding to Cordelia Hutchinson’s request that we stop the blackmailer, but not necessarily identify him or her.”

“But were you planning to identify him or her?” Annie persisted, leaning forward in her chair.

“We had made provisions for that.”

“One last question, Mr. Wolfe, and then I’ll shut up,” Annie said. “Of all the detectives in New York, and there must be dozens, why were you selected by the blackmailer?”

“Another excellent query. Now we arrive at the confluence of our two metaphorical rivers: the blackmailing and the plot against Mr. Goodwin. There were two interests here, and these interests did their planning in concert.

“It probably began with a chance meeting months ago between two individuals, each with a goal. One sought a substantial sum of money to improve a standard of living, the other sought revenge upon me through Mr. Goodwin. Each party felt he or she had hit upon a way to accomplish both ends.”

“Let us get on with the blackmailing,” Parkhurst Hutchinson grumped. “After all, that is what we are paying you for.”

“Let us indeed, sir,” Wolfe replied amiably. “Your daughter had planned a trip earlier this year to Italy as she told me, one that was to include many cities and attractions throughout that country. Her first stop was Florence, and something occurred there that made her drastically alter her itinerary.”

“A man!” her father said.

“Yes, a man named Carlo Veronese, from a wealthy and well-established Florentine family. Is that not correct, Miss Hutchinson?”

Cordelia looked up and nodded, then dropped her head back down again. I was almost feeling sorry for her.

“You met Mr. Veronese, seemingly by chance, while you were window shopping on the Ponte Vecchio Bridge, is that also correct?”

“It was by chance,” she said in a voice just above a whisper.

“I think not,” Wolfe replied, pushing the buzzer under his desk. “I believe the meeting was carefully planned.”

“Not by me!” Cordelia squeaked.

“No, not by you,” Wolfe agreed as the door opened and Saul Panzer and Carlo Veronese stepped in. Cordelia gasped, as did Marlene Peters.

“Good evening Mr. Veronese,” Wolfe said, not inviting him to be seated. “Thank you for coming. Do you recognize some of the people here?”

“Two,” Carlo said, abashed. He gave a tight smile to Cordelia and avoided looking at Marlene.

“Tell us how you happened to meet Miss Hutchinson in Florence earlier this year.”

“She was... identified to me, I would say.”

“By whom, Mr. Veronese?”

“By... her,” he said, pointing at Marlene, who started to say something but changed her mind. Like Cordelia, she was looking down.

“Miss Peters,” Wolfe stated. “Had you known her previously?”

Veronese nodded. “We met last year.”

“Would you say you were good friends?”

“Mm, yes, good friends, but not...” He made hand gestures that I took to mean the two had not been lovers.

“Why did Miss Peters want you to meet Miss Hutchinson?” Wolfe posed.

Veronese shifted from one leg to the other, clearly uncomfortable with the grilling he was getting. “She said it would help to make her boyfriend back at home... what is the word — jealous?”

“Why should Miss Hutchinson want him to be jealous?”

“Marlene... Miss Peters said it would get him to make what you call a proposal to her.”

“That’s not true! Lanny had already proposed to me, and you knew it!” Cordelia cried, glowering at Marlene. “How dare you...”

“Photographs of you and Miss Hutchinson were taken in the Boboli Gardens,” Wolfe said to Veronese. “You knew about that, of course.” The Italian nodded, hanging his head.

“And you also arranged for a photographer to take those pictures, a paparazzo? Did Miss Peters help you with that?” Another nod.

Wolfe looked at Marlene. “It’s... just... it’s not what it sounds like,” she mumbled. “I... don’t want to say any more right now.”

“I understand you and Douglas Hutchinson have spent time together,” Wolfe said. Doug shifted in his chair.

“Well, we did go out a few times, a while back,” she responded.

“Yes, and you and he are still keeping company, aren’t you?”

“What? No, I mean, I really don’t see where this is any of...” Marlene’s voice trailed off, and she began crying. By this time, Cordelia was sobbing, too, for different reasons. I just hoped Wolfe could hold up. He detests female emotions, and we had more than enough of them in the room, especially since Cordelia’s mother had begun shedding tears quietly.

Wolfe stayed focused on Marlene. “When Mr. Goodwin asked you about this relationship, you said ‘it just didn’t click.’ And when the same question was asked of Douglas, he used precisely the same words, as if the two of you had been expecting the question and had done some rehearsing. What about it, Mr. Hutchinson?” Wolfe said, turning to Doug.

“That was just a coincidence,” he said dismissively, throwing his arms up. “We haven’t been together in ages.”

Back to Marlene. “Is it true what he says, Miss Peters, that you haven’t been together in ages?” Wolfe was attacking the weakest point in the pair, and he did not let her sniffling deter him.

“Oh for God’s sake, leave her alone!” Doug barked and stood. “I’m getting out of here.”

“Not just yet you aren’t, son,” Purley Stebbins said, stepping forward and putting one of his oversized paws on the young man’s shoulder, forcing him back down into his chair.

“So, let us leave this couple for the moment and go back to the beginning of this chain of events,” Wolfe said. “A few minutes ago, I spoke of a chance meeting between two individuals, whom I shall call X and Y. Each had a specific goal. They saw how they could aid each other in achieving these goals.

“Their plan, while flawed, appealed to both of them. The person intent upon killing Mr. Goodwin was also the telephone voice of the blackmailer, a voice unknown to Miss Hutchinson. This person, X, sent one of the photographs taken in Florence to her, demanding seventy-five thousand dollars in currency in return for the other photographs. X dictated the content of two ransom notes to her, undoubtedly suggesting she print them to avoid a handwriting test.

“X then stipulated that she attempt to hire us to deliver the money to a specified spot in Central Park, knowing that if we did accept the assignment, Mr. Goodwin would almost surely be the one making the delivery, as I am patently unsuited to such work. If all went well, Mr. Goodwin would be dead and the money would go to the other member of the cabal, Y. The one final thing that did go well for X and Y is that we accepted the assignment from Miss Hutchinson, who was totally ignorant of both the death plot and the ultimate destination of the seventy-five thousand dollars.”

“This plan sounds awfully convoluted, to use one of your own words,” Cramer said. “I don’t see how in hell it could work.”

“It did not work, Inspector, although Mr. Goodwin came close to losing his life. He did indeed take the satchel of money, seventy-five thousand dollars’ worth, to the specified spot in Central Park, although he was not alone. To use a police term, he had backup, including Mr. Saul Panzer, whom you see there standing next to Mr. Veronese.

“X, who wanted my colleague dead, made the mistake of hiring a petty and inept mobster named Noah McManus to do the killing. When Mr. Goodwin set the satchel down at the base of a tree and began to walk away, McManus called out to him. Mr. Goodwin turned and a bullet that should have killed him tore through his shoulder, knocking him to the ground. A moment later, the would-be assassin was shot in the back, fatally.

“I believe that X, thinking Mr. Goodwin was now dead, did what he had intended to do all along, which was to kill McManus, who was probably the only person who knew X was behind the planned killing. As Mr. Goodwin lay on the ground in pain, McManus prepared to fire a second and probably fatal shot at him, but unintentionally and ironically, X saved the very life he had sought to end.”