Archie in the Crosshairs

Chapter 8

Cordelia watched Wolfe leave the room, then turned to me in dismay. “Did I say something to upset him?”

“By no means. That is very normal behavior for Mr. Wolfe. He is brusque by nature and he has many projects going on at the same time,” I improvised. “You don’t mind my asking you some more questions, do you?”

“Oh no, not at all, Mr. Goodwin, not at all. I did not mean in any way to suggest that.”

“Good. When Mr. Wolfe left, you had mentioned that Carlo Veronese is very good-looking and quite a bit older than you. You started to say ‘I now know that I’... and then you were interrupted.”

She blushed. “Yes, what I was going to say was, I now know I allowed myself to be taken in by his looks and his charm. I could tell you that the beauty of Florence affected my actions, but that would be a feeble excuse. I know myself that well.”

“We all get carried away at one time or another, Miss Hutchinson,” I said in my most sympathetic tone.

“Please, call me Cordelia.”

“Only if you call me Archie. So, what were the circumstances of your meeting this charming man?”

“Please do not make fun of me, Mr. — Archie.”

“I assure you, I am not. I make it a point never to make fun of anyone — other than myself, of course.”

“You are very nice... Archie, like I knew you would be from the way you sounded on the telephone,” she said, placing slender, manicured fingers on my arm. “As to how we met: It was my second or third day in Florence. I was strolling on the Ponte Vecchio, which is a famous old bridge over the Arno River that has beautiful shops lining it. I was looking at a purse in the window of a leather-goods store when he — Carlo — came up behind me and leaned over my shoulder. ‘Do you like that?’ he asked, pointing at the purse.

“I was startled, but I was aware of the reputation Italian men have for being, well, forward. I told him I thought the purse was very lovely and tasteful.

“‘I am so very glad you think so, signorina. My mother designed it,’ he said, bowing. ‘Let us go in. You can take a better look at it.’ So we went into the little shop, where the saleswoman called him by name and fussed over him.”

“Did you buy the purse?”

“No, but Carlo and I ended up talking, and I found that I, well... I enjoyed his company. He insisted on treating me to a drink at a beautiful little café along the Arno.”

“Did he have to insist forcefully?”

“Well, no, I can’t lie, least of all to myself.”

“I have to ask you this question, Cordelia. Didn’t you at some point during your relationship suspect that Mr. Veronese just might have used the same approach before with other window-shopping young women, particularly ones who were visitors to the city like yourself?”

“I really wasn’t thinking at the time,” she said, shaking her head. “I just wasn’t. I can’t really claim it was the romantic surroundings that affected me. I don’t know what else to tell you. Maybe I am just weak-willed, Archie.”

I passed on that comment. “Just how did your relationship with Mr. Veronese come to an end?”

“After we had been seeing each other for several weeks — as I said before, I had extended my stay in Florence because of him — he told me that we should not see each other anymore. It came as a total surprise to me.”

“Did he give a reason?”

I thought she was going to break into tears, but she controlled herself, hands clenched. “He said it was not realistic for us to think anything could come of our grande amore — that’s what he called it, un grande amore, I think I have that right. But at that moment, I finally realized it was something very different, Archie, something hardly grand, if you understand me. It was as if I had been slapped into coming to my senses.”

“All right, let’s move on. I am assuming you do not want to pay the blackmailer, or else you would not have come to Mr. Wolfe. But you also don’t want word of your dalliance to be made public, certainly not to the Mercers. Now, I am the first to recognize Mr. Wolfe’s genius, but even given his talents, you may not be able to accomplish both of these ends. Perhaps one or the other. And even if you do ante up, who is to say the blackmailer won’t come back for more? There may be dozens of copies of that photograph, or other photos nearly identical to it, as that one note suggested.”

“It’s really that bad, isn’t it, Archie?” Cordelia shivered, although the room was warm.

“It is not good. Do you have any candidates for the blackmailer, anyone who has a particular reason to dislike you or perhaps be jealous of you? Or someone in need of a large sum?”

“I really cannot think of a soul who would stoop to such nasty tactics. I’ve never hurt anyone in my life, at least not that I am aware of.”

“I believe you, Cordelia. However, you are wealthy, and someone wants to get a chunk of that wealth.”

“But who in Florence could it have been? Not my old roommate — we are very close. I consider her my best friend. And certainly not Carlo, who comes from money himself, probably as much as or more than I have.”

“Let us not limit ourselves to people in Florence. Someone from here could have learned what was going on between you and Veronese and hired an individual over there to shadow you and take pictures. From what I have read, there are plenty of Italian photographers who specialize in just this sort of work and are very good at it. I’m sure you’ve heard the word paparazzi.”

“Yes, those horrible men who chase after movie stars and other famous people.” She clenched her fists again.

“And they are not just limited to Italy. We’ve got our share of those sleazy picture-takers right here in New York, too,” I said, then added, “I’ve been meaning to ask about your family. Do you have brothers and sisters?”

“Two of each, all of them several years older than me. I’m told I was something of a surprise,” she said.

“A nice surprise for your parents, I’m sure.”

She smiled for the first time since she had arrived. “I have always been very close to both of them.”

“I’m glad to hear it. And also with your siblings?”

“We’re not really all that close, I suppose because of the age differences. I don’t see most of them all that often, except Tom.”

“Where do they live and what do they do?”

“Annie, she’s the oldest, is an advertising copywriter, single, and lives over in Brooklyn. She’s had several boyfriends, but broke up with each of them. She’s very fussy — too fussy, if you ask me. Tom, the next oldest, is also single now, and he’s currently staying with us on Sutton Place, which is why I see more of him than the others. He got divorced a few months ago, and their split was not pleasant. The settlement with his ex-wife became somewhat nasty.

“My other sister, Kathleen Willis, is recently divorced from her husband, a bond trader, and she lives in Westport, Connecticut, in a beautiful house. She has two children. And then there’s Doug, the youngest except for me. He’s one of those starving artists you hear about. He’s never been married, although he’s had several relationships. I even introduced him to Marlene, my old roommate, and they went out a couple of times, but that didn’t seem to work out — though neither of them ever talked to me about it.”

“Where does Doug live?”

“He has a somewhat shabby loft in Greenwich Village — or so I understand, I’ve never seen it — and he struggles to sell his paintings. I’ve seen just a few of them, and I shouldn’t be saying this about my brother, but I really don’t think he’s terribly talented.”

“You referred to him as a ‘starving artist.’ He can’t be too hard up if he got an inheritance like you did.”

“Doug has burned through a lot of it, almost all of it, I’m afraid. He invested in an import-export company that one of his college classmates started, and it was a colossal failure. Neither Doug nor his friend has much business sense. My father urged him not to get involved in the venture, but, well, you know how offspring are about taking their parents’ advice.”

“I do. I had my share of arguments with my father, although now I can see he was right more often than I was.”

“Well, Dad and Doug are still not on the best of terms over the whole sad business. What about my fee, Archie? I brought my checkbook.” She pulled it out of her purse and started to open it.

“As Mr. Wolfe said before, that can wait. And as I told you, he does not come cheap. How did you hear about him?”

“I’ve seen his name — and yours, too — in the newspapers several times. From what I have read, he seems to have a very good record at... at solving things.”

“He does. I assume no one knows you have approached him.”

“No, just my diary knows. I was alone in my bedroom at my parents’ home on Sutton Place both of the times I telephoned you. What’s next, Archie?”

“At some point, we probably will have to talk both to your parents and to your brothers and sisters.”

She jerked upright. “You can’t do that, Archie! You must not. They — especially my mother and father — would be crushed. They must never know about what has happened.”

“Surely your parents love you very much. Wouldn’t they understand?”

“I... maybe. But I couldn’t bear telling them, particularly my father,” she said, as if she were beginning to hyperventilate. “I’ve always been, well, his favorite, probably because I came along later. And as for my brothers and sisters, I just don’t want them to know either.”

“It’s possible that the blackmailers already have approached one or more members of your family,” I told her. “We need to know if that is the case.”

Cordelia shook her head vigorously. “No, Archie, no!”

“All right, let me ask this. Do you have something — say, an expensive piece of jewelry — that you are particularly fond of?”

She threw me a puzzled look. “Well, yes I do. Why?”

“What is it?”

“A diamond necklace. My father gave it to me when I had my coming-out party around my eighteenth birthday. I treasure it more than anything else I own.”

“Did the necklace go along with you to Italy?”

“Oh no, I was afraid something might happen to it.”

“Did your parents or siblings know whether you took it on the trip?”

She wrinkled her forehead. “I don’t think the subject ever came up. Why do you ask?”

“Because perhaps we can develop a scenario in which you did have the necklace in Florence. And it got stolen from your hotel room.”

“I don’t understand.”

“We could make the stolen necklace the reason you’re being blackmailed.”

Cordelia shook her head. “Please pardon me for saying so, Archie, but that seems awfully far-fetched.”

I shrugged. “Maybe, but let me bounce it off Mr. Wolfe. I’ll talk to him about the necklace idea, and whether he likes it or not, he will decide how you should respond when you receive instructions from the blackmailer, which could be any time — possibly today or tomorrow.”

“But I am still not officially a client, am I?”

“No, although I’ll do what I can to plead your case.”

“Thank you, Archie. Should I telephone later?” she asked.

“Why don’t I call you, or is that a problem? Will someone else answer?”

“Probably the maid, Sheila. If she asks who is on the line, and she probably will, you can tell her you are from the DeVane Jewelers. They’re resetting a ring for me, so a call from them would be expected.”

“I’m sure I can sound like a jeweler. Now, how are you going to get home? I can call a taxi and have it pick you up over on Thirty-Fourth Street.”

“No, that is not necessary,” she said, standing and smoothing a skirt that didn’t need smoothing. “I love to walk, and it gives me a chance to think. Heaven knows, I have a lot of thinking to do.”

We exited through the kitchen, Fritz ignoring us once more, and I escorted Cordelia down the passageway. When we got to the street, we shook hands and I told her she would be hearing from me. I watched as she walked away and wondered where her thoughts were taking her.