Archie in the Crosshairs

Chapter 28

For the record, the Gazette and our friend Lon Cohen gave all the credit in the solving of the murders of McManus and Marx to Inspector Lionel T. Cramer of the New York Police Department’s Homicide Squad. Nero Wolfe’s name did not appear in the story, as we had requested. And if you are wondering, Parkhurst Hutchinson paid Wolfe’s bill without a peep, despite the considerable expense involved in bringing Carlo Veronese to New York.

As of this writing, the case of the State of New York v. Douglas Hutchinson has yet to be resolved. The Hutchinson lawyers pressed for a manslaughter charge in the death of Alan Marx, but the New York County District Attorney is going for a first-degree murder charge, and there have been numerous continuances.

The other day I had lunch with Tom Hutchinson, who insisted on reciprocating for my treating him at La Belle Touraine by buying me lunch there. “Archie, I just got a good promotion at work, and I’m seeing a really nice woman now,” he said with a smile over cocktails. “I want you to know that I really appreciate the way you and your boss handled things for our family during a rough period.”

He went on to tell me that Cordelia and Lance Mercer had called off their engagement, although he was unsure as to whose idea it was. He said Cordelia had decided to go back to Europe to study Renaissance art at a school in some Italian town, the name of which I forget — it was not Florence. She planned to stay for at least two years, he said.

He told me his sister Annie had found herself a new friend, an art director at a competing advertising agency, and he felt she was now happier than she had been in years.

“I’m not sure what will come of it over time,” he said, “but I’ve met the guy, and he seems to be solid, which is more than I can say for some of the men she’s been with in the past.”

I asked about Kathleen, whom I had driven up to Connecticut to see. “She’s about the same, Archie. If I were a violent man, I would have killed that bum she was married to, but” — he shrugged — “he’s really not worth the effort. She has been a wonderful mother to those little girls, but she has pretty much sacrificed any private life she has for them.

“As far as my folks,” he went on, “they have not been the same since what has happened with Doug, and I doubt if they ever will be. My mother has turned in on herself, never goes out anymore, and does not want to see anyone — not that she ever was that social a person. And my father has pretty much lost interest in the railroad that he helped make into a national powerhouse. He just doesn’t seem to care anymore, and he says that he’s going to resign the chairmanship and leave the board at the end of the year.”

When I queried him about Marlene Peters, Tom shook his head. “I don’t know what has become of her, and I don’t care. But I can tell you this: When the police were talking about charging Marlene as an accessory in the blackmailing, Cordelia stepped in, claiming they were good friends and she — Cordelia — said it was all just a big misunderstanding. I was very proud of her, but I had to wonder how things would have turned out had their roles been reversed. Some friend to my sister Miss Marlene Peters turned out to be!”

I told Tom I was sorry about the family’s misfortunes but happy for him and his sister Annie. After lunch, we shook hands out on the sun-drenched sidewalk in front of the restaurant and went our separate ways. I turned to look at his back as he headed in the other direction, noting a bounce in his step I had not seen before.

As for myself, I got the last of my bandages off this week. Doc Vollmer’s comely nurse, Carol Francis, came over to the brownstone, unwrapped me yet again, studied my healed wound, and pronounced me fit.

“Try to behave yourself from now on,” she cautioned. I promised I would and we embraced — like brother and sister.

Last night, Lily Rowan and I went dancing at the Flamingo Club, but hardly like brother and sister. “You seem to be much more relaxed tonight, Escamillo,” she said as she pressed her cheek against mine.

“Really? I thought I was always relaxed.”

“Not the last time we went dancing, a couple of weeks ago,” she told me. “You seemed all tensed up, like your shoulder was bothering you, although I didn’t say anything about it and you didn’t mention it.”

“Oh, yeah, I do remember. That was because I had pulled a muscle doing my morning exercises a while back.”

“Well, please try to be more careful in the future, will you? I have always said that exercising can be dangerous to one’s health.”