Silver Spire

Eighteen

From the telephone in Gillis’s office, I reached Fred at home, giving him the happy news that he would not be boarding with the state after all. I then called Lon Cohen, who was still at the paper, and fed him the highlights of the evening. As usual, he wanted more, and I suggested he call both Cramer and Bay. “I can’t stay on the line with you forever,” I told him. “My boss has seen all he wants to of Staten Island. And he doesn’t like riding in a car after dark even more than he doesn’t like riding in a car in daylight.”

“What I don’t get, Archie, is why Wolfe left the comfort of his abode to wrap this one up,” Lon said.

“Okay, here’s my reading, not for publication. One, he was so damned angry that a would-be client had the gall to try to hire him to use him — and me — in a setup. And two, the jerk had connived so that Durkin would take the fall. Now, there’s been lots of times when Wolfe can take Fred or leave him, but he is family, and to Nero Wolfe, that means plenty. Also, it’s just barely possible that he didn’t think I could get on the horn and cajole the whole bunch of them to come to the brownstone.”

The next morning, following a grade-A breakfast, I was in the office reading the Times, which had no mention of the night’s activities at the Silver Spire, meaning Lon and the Gazette had themselves a scoop for their early-afternoon editions. The phone rang, and I recognized the voice on the other end. It was Barnabas Bay, who wanted to pay us a visit that morning. I told him Wolfe wouldn’t be down from the plant rooms until eleven, and the reverend responded that he’d be there at ten past the hour.

When Wolfe descended at eleven sharp, I didn’t mention the call or the impending visit, figuring the surprise would enliven his day. Sure enough, the doorbell rang at exactly eleven-ten. “A well-known preacher is standing out on the stoop,” I told Wolfe after I’d walked down the hall and peered at Bay through the one-way glass. “Do I let him in?”

“Confound it, yes,” he said, making a face.

The Barnabas Bay I admitted into the brownstone had aged years in the last few hours. Looking all of forty-eight, he nodded a grim-faced greeting and made his second trip down the hall to the office.

“Good day, sir,” Wolfe said as the minister dropped into the red leather chair. “Would you like coffee?”

“No, thank you,” Bay answered listlessly, as hoarse as he had been last night. “I can’t stay long. I am here for two reasons, really. The first is to apologize for refusing to believe you when you insisted that Mr. Durkin was innocent.”

Wolfe raised his shoulders a fraction of an inch and let them drop. “No one wants to believe that one’s colleague is a criminal,” he said. “I should think that would be particularly true in a religious institution.”

“It is. After you left last night, Lloyd told the police and me that he’d taken just a few dollars from the offering the first time, for, of all things, two dress shirts. You know, he never complained to me about his salary not being enough,” the minister said in an agonized tone. “Anyway, he promised himself that he would return the money a week or two later, but he never did. Instead, he took more — the next time to help cover expenses for a vacation he and his wife were taking. He thinks he dipped in about six or seven times over several months. He told us — between sobs — that it got easier each time. And then, one Sunday night late, Roy caught him in the vault, and, well...” Bay slumped in the chair and shook his head.

“The character flaw was always there,” Wolfe said. “Eventually it would have manifested itself in some way, regardless of his salary.”

“Perhaps. But, obviously, something essential is lacking in my leadership. I spent most of the night praying, and I haven’t got any answers yet as to what God has in mind for me now. But I didn’t come here to talk about myself. The second reason for my visit, Mr. Wolfe, is that despite the trauma we’re going through, the Silver Spire owes you a debt, one that I want to pay. I know your charges are high, but on behalf of the church, I am prepared to negotiate a fee, and I will not be a hard bargainer.”

“There has been no agreement between us, sir. You are under no obligation whatever,” Wolfe said, turning a hand over.

“But I am, and it’s the most binding obligation of all: that of a Christian to do the right thing.”

Wolfe remained still and silent for several seconds and then came forward in his chair. “I have relatives in Europe to whom I send money each month. I will give you their addresses, and if you so choose, you can send a modest contribution to them. Their lives are far from easy.”

Bay liked that idea and took the names of Wolfe’s cousins. We later learned that each of them was receiving a monthly money order from the Silver Spire.

“Actually, I do have another question,” Bay said sheepishly. “It falls under the category of curiosity — nothing more.” Wolfe signaled him to continue with a nod.

Bay nodded back. “You may only be able to guess at this, but why didn’t Roy at least tell his wife, Sara, about having caught Lloyd?”

Wolfe shifted in his chair. “As I stated last night, hubris. Mr. Meade was self-confident to the point of arrogance and preferred to act completely alone. He felt that the more he shared his knowledge, the more his role as authority figure — and in this case, enforcer — would be diminished. He was not unlike Shakespeare’s Henry the Fifth, who on the eve of the Battle at Agincourt proclaimed, ‘The fewer men, the greater share of honor.’”

Bay sighed. “Maybe you’re right. Lloyd also told us last night that Roy gave him a deadline so that he could repay the money, as you had suggested. But Lloyd also felt very strongly that Roy was enjoying his discomfort as the days passed. I hate to believe that.”

“But you do believe it.”

“Yes, I do. I have always been aware of Roy’s flaws, whether I wanted to admit it or not. But we all have them. I’ve never been more aware of my own than at this moment,” Bay said as he got to his feet, which seemed to be an effort. “Thank you, Mr. Wolfe.”

Wolfe nodded as I followed the minister down the hall and let him out, watching as he got into the back seat of the blue sedan at the curb.