The Last Coincidence

Ten

So now we officially had a client, and one who didn’t seem to show the slightest resentment about our “outrageous fees.” In fact, when I quoted the amount — sixty thousand dollars, half payable now, half at the completion of our work — she simply said, “Oh, I thought it probably would be more.” Then, without missing a beat, she pulled out a checkbook with a red-and-blue-plaid cover and proceeded calmly to write out a draft for thirty grand as if it were something she did every time she bought groceries. And she followed by asking me what was next.

“Next is more questions, if you’ve got the time,” I told her with a smile.

“Of course I’ve got the time, Mr. Goodwin — oh, there I go again. Archie, I mean. Take as long as you want. If anything, I should be concerned about your time,” Noreen said earnestly, sitting erect in the red leather chair like a student about to be quizzed by a teacher. I could see why Lily was so fond of her; this one had at least two of the three traits I like most — character and manners. The third is a sense of humor, and given the situation, Noreen hadn’t had much call to exhibit that side of her, assuming it existed.

I started in with the questions, including how well she felt she’d gotten to know Linville on their two dates.

“Apparently not very well at all, given what happened,” she mused. “As I told you and Mr. Wolfe, I really felt that he was an innocent kind of wild, if that makes sense. Not the mean kind, you know? I decided the press must have been unfair about him.”

“What about his drinking?”

“Well, he did do a little too much of that for my taste, especially given that he mixed it with driving. I guess if I’d known him better, or longer, I would have eventually said something about it.”

“Did you meet any of his friends?”

“Two or three. There was one, Todd Halliburton, we ran into both times we went out.”

I remembered Linville’s fireplug-sized sidekick. “What was he like?”

Noreen shrugged. “Okay, I guess. Actually, pretty nice. Seemed sort of on the shy side, though. He didn’t say much.”

I wondered if we’d met the same Halliburton. “Was he with a date? And what did he look like?”

“No, once he was alone — that was at Orion — and the other time, at Morgana’s, I think... um, yes, it was at Morgana’s, he was with another guy, Charlie something, I forget the last name. What did Todd look like? Well, he’s really short — shorter than Sparky... was. He’s got real light hair, almost white, and he wears it cut short. Why?”

“Just curious,” I told her. We were talking about the same guy, all right. “What does Halliburton do?”

She frowned, thinking about it. “I think he’s an accountant of some kind downtown. He mentioned it one night, but I can’t recall. I do remember that he said he lived in the Village, but that’s about all.”

“Miss James, to your knowledge, before Wednesday night who was aware of what had happened between you and Sparky Linville?”

“I thought we were going to use first names,” she said with a tight smile. “It’s Noreen, remember — Archie? Well, as I said before, Lily knew, back last Saturday, and Mother, Michael, and Edward found out when we had that homecoming party. And Daddy knew that same night, of course, because Mother phoned him.”

“Do the two of them communicate a lot?”

“I wouldn’t say a lot, no. They’re not chummy by any means, but they do still talk, especially when it involves Michael or me. And Mother did give Daddy a call that night, to tell him about it. She really hit the ceiling.”

“Not so surprising for a mother to be distraught in that situation, though, is it?”

“No,” Noreen conceded, “it’s not. And I guess I’d have reacted the same way if it had been my daughter.”

“Tell me about your friend Rojek, the one you said you see fairly often.”

She ran a hand through her hair and let it drop into her lap. “Doug’s a nice guy — really sweet. I met him through Michael. They got to know each other in a Wall Street softball league — they were each captain of a company team. Doug’s with a brokerage house — Maxwell and Mills.”

“Is this serious between you two?”

Noreen’s cheeks got rosy again. “I’m not really sure yet, but... maybe. I guess it’s really a little too early to tell.”

“How does he feel about you?”

She paused to think about it. “Well, I have to say I think he’s pretty interested, although like me, he’s been going out with other people too, at least occasionally.”

“Does Rojek know about what happened with Sparky Linville?”

“This may sound funny, but I’m not really sure.”

“It does sound funny. After you explain it, maybe I’ll understand.”

She looked over at the bookcases and then at the globe before answering. “Doug and I have been going out, oh, about once a week for a few months now — to the movies, for drinks, to a Mets game once. As I said, he’s really sweet, a nice guy. Well, after what happened with Sparky, I got so depressed, you know, that I didn’t feel like seeing Doug — or anybody, for that matter. So I turned him down three or four times in a row. I gave different excuses, like I wasn’t feeling well, or I had to spend the evening with Daddy, or I was just plain ‘busy,’ or—”

“I’ve been on the receiving end of all of those too, at one time or another,” I said, nodding.

She smiled weakly. “Anyway, I knew Doug was getting a little bent out of shape by all the turndowns, so I started saying yes again and we went out a few times, but I knew he could tell something was wrong. I mean, as hard as I tried, I wasn’t myself. I’m really still not... at all.” She allowed herself a deep breath.

“Okay, so he figured out that for some reason you were acting differently. But did he even know you’d gone out with Linville?”

“I’m not sure, unless Polly said something to him.”

“Why would she say anything?” I asked. “Was she really miffed after all about you going out with someone she’d been dating?”

“No, I don’t think so, I really don’t. But Polly seemed to feel Doug was the right person for me, and she was always real friendly to him when he came by to pick me up or when he stopped over for a beer. She always built him up to me when we were alone, and I also think — although I don’t know this for sure — that he would call Polly to, you know, talk about me.”

“Ah, it’s the old story,” I said, waving a hand. “Lovestruck lad seeks advice from the best girlfriend of the object of his affection.”

“Something like that,” Noreen replied, this time favoring me with a sheepish but full-blown smile.

“All right, so it seems likely that Mr. Rojek knew you had been out with Barton Linville. But as to whether he knows anything about that night, and what happened, you’re not sure at all?”

“No. He never has mentioned Sparky’s name, not once. But then, Doug wouldn’t. If he’s the jealous type, he’s never shown it to me. Wait a minute Mr.... Archie,” she said, looking directly at me. “Do you think that Doug would have...?” She let the sentence evaporate.

“Right now I don’t think anything,” I said evenly. “Understand, at this point we are operating on the assumption that your brother had nothing to do with the violent death of one Barton Linville. That being the case, someone else conked Mr. L. in that parking garage. Now, it’s possible that Linville had dozens of people you’ve never met or heard of lining up to give him a one-way trip, but not very likely. The circles he appears to have moved in favor hot air and bluster and posturing — that type wouldn’t be apt to resort to murder. Chances are stronger that the person who dispatched him is someone you know — and care for. I mention that because even if your brother is cleared, you may not like the way this business turns out.”

“I know,” she said softly, shaking her head and looking at the tips of her shoes.

“I honestly don’t know how you were able to bottle this up for a whole month,” I told her. “Didn’t you at least see a doctor?”

“Yeah, I did. And that... was really hard.” Noreen chewed her lower lip and allowed as to how she could use a glass of water, which I got from the chilled carafe on the table that doubles as a service bar. She thanked me and took a couple of healthy swallows. “He’s somebody a friend of mine goes to — no way was I about to call the doctor my mother and I use. Anyway, I made up a story about... getting carried away one night, and he gave me a whole batch of tests for, you know... everything. God, it was awful.”

“Sorry to be so damned nosy, but it’s an occupational necessity. Next rough question: Weren’t you afraid Linville might... be back?”

“Umm, in a way, but for one thing, I, well, sort of hurt him, you know?”

“You mean physically?”

Noreen nodded, finishing the rest of her water.

“Dare I ask how?”

“Oh, not what you’re probably thinking,” she said, coloring slightly. “I scratched him pretty good on the face, for one thing. And I hit him in the eye — I know that hurt because he... yelled. Loud I shouldn’t say this, but... I wish I’d killed him.” She sounded like she meant it.

“Did you kill him, Noreen?” I said, keeping my expression impassive.

She held my eyes for several seconds without blinking, then scraped at a tooth with her thumbnail. “No, but I’ve had a lot of dreams the last few weeks — nightmares, really — where I, well, murdered him different ways,” she said with a quavering voice. “I know that sounds terrible, but I keep getting them — the nightmares, I mean.”

I studied her, trying to factor out the histrionics, then decided there weren’t any. Whatever neighborhood in my brain decides such things told me I was getting it straight, without any malarkey.

Noreen seemed to sense that I was processing what she’d said, and she waited a discreet period before speaking. “You’re really convinced that he was killed because of what happened to me, aren’t you?”

“Given the timing, it looks that way. You’d kept quiet about the episode for more than a month, and it didn’t come out until a few days ago. And then, not much more than twenty-four hours later, Linville is dead. You have any other theories?”

Her lower lip was getting a workout. “None, but it is possible, isn’t it, that this could have been something else? Like a robbery — you know, someone hiding in a parking garage waiting for a person who drives an expensive car to pull in late at night, when nobody is likely to be around?”

“In this city, anything’s possible,” I admitted. “But chances are somebody trying a holdup would have a gun or would make you think they had a gun — as intimidation, not with any intent to use it. But somebody carrying a sap is ready for action.”

“A sap?”

“Blackjack, truncheon, tire iron, wrench, whatever. Last I knew, the police hadn’t found the weapon.”

“But one thing’s sure — it must have been a man who did it, right?” she asked.

“I’m sorry to be so indefinite about everything, but even that isn’t a sure thing. I know of cases where women have wielded some pretty mean shillelaghs. For openers, Mr. Wolfe once helped send a female from Bayside to prison for life because of the way she’d used a baseball bat on her husband. Anybody with any strength at all can unload at least a stunning blow with, say, a wrench, especially if the target doesn’t expect it. And after the first whack, the rest is—”

“Please, don’t go on!” Noreen cried, covering her ears. “It’s... awful.”

“Violent death is awful. It’s only on TV shows that it gets sanitized. End of sermon.”

She nodded woodenly. “All right, I think you’ve laid things out pretty clearly for me. What happens next?”

“Next Mr. Wolfe and I confer and I get instructions. But you already know something about our plans from what Mr. Wolfe said: I’ll want to see your brother, your roommate, your friend Rojek. I’ll also probably be asking to talk to both your mother and father again. And that’s just for starters.”

“How long will all this take?”

“That’s hard to say, but I’ll tell you one thing: It’s tough to get Nero Wolfe into high gear. I can push him better than anyone else on the planet, but even then, it’s like trying to get a charcoal fire going without starter fluid. All I can promise is that I’ll do my best. But before you go, one more question.”

“Yes?”

“What were you doing Wednesday night after nine o’clock?”

“I was at my mother’s. Why? Oh!” she said, jerking upright. “I know why. Because you want to know where I was when... he was killed.”

“That’s right, client or not. Mr. Wolfe will have expected me to ask.”

Her cheeks blazed the color of my favorite power tie and she reached into her purse for a cigarette, which she lit with a match before I could produce a lighter. Whatever anger she felt about the question she was working hard to suppress.

“Well, the truth is, I was out part of the evening. I was so depressed about Tuesday night, you know, with Mother and everything, that I went out walking for, oh, several hours. Just to get out of the house and away from everybody.”

“I suppose you were alone?”

She nodded. “I went east, over around Beekman Place and Sutton Place, and also walked up and down First and Second avenues.”

“About what time was this?”

“I was gone from maybe nine-forty-five to twelve-thirty or so. To be honest, I didn’t look at my watch once while I was walking.”

“And you didn’t see anyone you know the whole time?”

She shook her head. “Nobody I knew. The streets were crowded, especially Second Avenue, but, no. Does all this make me a suspect?” she snapped.

“Not necessarily, but it could come up at some point. Anyway, I think I’ve covered everything I need to know for now. I’ll keep you apprised of our progress when there are developments, but in the meantime, feel free to call me. Fair enough?”

“Fair enough.” She stood and held out a hand. She wasn’t smiling, but that’s okay; I prefer people whose faces accurately reflect their feelings and, as I suggested earlier, Noreen James didn’t have a great deal to smile about at the moment.