The Last Coincidence

Twenty

It was almost eleven when I climbed out of a cab in front of the brownstone. I rang the bell, knowing the bolt would be on at that hour, and within seconds Fritz pulled open the door. “Archie, there is a man waiting for you in the front room,” he said in a whisper as I entered the hall. “He has been in there for more than two hours. He wanted to see Mr. Wolfe, but he was up in the plant rooms when the gentleman came and he didn’t want to be disturbed. When I told Mr. Wolfe his name, he told me to let him in and have him wait for you.”

“Why don’t you tell me his name?” I asked impatiently. “And stop whispering; you know as well as I do that the front-room door is soundproofed.”

Fritz colored, as he does when I chide him about anything. “He is Edward Pamsett. Very much the gentleman, very nicely dressed. I have looked in on him many times, to see if he would like to keep on waiting, and he always says yes. He is reading magazines in there. He doesn’t even want coffee or anything else to drink. I have made the offer three times.”

“Where’s Mr. Wolfe?”

“Up in his bedroom. He was in the office reading until about ten minutes ago. I told him when he went upstairs that Mr. Pamsett was still here, and he told me to allow him to remain for thirty more minutes, and then, if you hadn’t returned, to request that he leave.”

“All right. I’ll see him now. Thanks.” Fritz nodded and went off to the kitchen, where I knew he would remain as long as we had a visitor in the house. He hates the idea that a guest might request food and not be able to get it, or worse yet, might have to rely on me to rustle something up. Fritz does not place great faith in my culinary abilities.

“Good evening,” I said, opening the door to the front room.

“Oh... yes... Mr. Goodwin,” Edward Pamsett said, dropping the magazines and springing to his feet. “Do you remember me? We met at Megan James’s last week.”

“Of course I do, Mr. Pamsett,” I said, admiring his summer-weight double-breasted blue blazer with color-coordinated silk challis tie and dark blue handkerchief cascading out of his breast pocket. “I understand you’ve been waiting for some time.”

“I... yes, yes. I apologize for not calling for an appointment. I should have, of course, but... well, although you may not believe this, sometimes I’m rather impulsive.”

“I’ll take your word for it. Why don’t we go into the office to talk?” I opened the connecting door, steering him through and over to the red leather chair. “Now, what brings you here on a Sunday night?” I asked brightly, sliding into my desk chair and pivoting to face him.

“I had come to talk to Mr. Wolfe — or you, of course — I understand you report everything to him more or less verbatim?”

“Not more or less.”

“Uh... yes, verbatim. Anyway, Megan called me today — about... last Wednesday night.” Pamsett fiddled with the dimpled knot of his tie and glanced around the office, expecting me to respond. Not wanting to be predictable, I remained silent, watching him fidget.

“Anyway,” he said, making a production out of clearing his throat, “she told me that she and Doyle had been here earlier today and that she mentioned her visit to see me Wednesday night.”

“Correct.”

“Yes, well, the reason I’m here, basically, is to corroborate that she was with me from... as nearly as I can recall, a little after ten until about right around midnight. You understand, those are approximate times, but I think they’re pretty close. When she left, I went down with her to the lobby of my building to make sure she was safely in a taxi.” He smiled self-effacingly and turned his palms up, as if indicating there was nothing more to be said on the matter.

“Mr. Pamsett, one thing puzzles me: You could have told me this over the phone in seconds; why come all the way across town and wait for — what? — two hours without an appointment or any guarantee that Mr. Wolfe or I would even be here?”

I got another one of Pamsett’s humble smiles and more of the palms-up business. “That’s an appropriate question, Mr. Goodwin. I can only say in my defense that I invariably prefer face-to-face contact to the telephone. But there’s more to it than that.”

“I felt sure that there was,” I told him.

“Yes, well, Megan was unsettled by today’s meeting with Mr. Wolfe, to say the least. I think she felt her call on me on Wednesday night needed, as I said before, some sort of corroboration. From my perspective, the situation was important enough to warrant this visit.”

“Did Mrs. James ask you to come here?”

“Actually, no,” Pamsett said. This time the smile was sheepish. “And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell her about this visit. She might view it as meddling, although it surely isn’t meant as such.”

“All right, you’ve made the visit, and your corroboration is duly noted. Is there anything else?”

“Well... I guess not. I thought perhaps you would have some questions.”

“Questions? Let me see... All right, one thing you might be able to clarify: Did Mrs. James call you before she came to see you Wednesday night?”

Pamsett leaned back and folded his arms across his chest, looking up and making a production out of recollecting. “I... Yes, yes, she did,” he said slowly. “Megan called me earlier in the evening and asked if she could come by.”

“Is that a common occurrence?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Is Mrs. James’s calling you to ask if she can stop by a common occurrence?”

“No,” he said stiffly, looking as if he was straining to keep a smile on his face.

“What did she say when she called you?”

“Just that she needed to talk. We spend a lot of time talking.”

“About what?”

An elegant shrug. “All manner of things: her children, my children, politics, charitable organizations, the theater — all manner of topics.”

“And what did she want to talk about Wednesday night?”

“Mr. Goodwin, is this confidential?” Pamsett said in a low voice, leaning forward and fixing me with a look that was meant to communicate that we were men of the world discussing elemental problems.

“Not necessarily,” I replied. “I am a private investigator, licensed by the State of New York. If I learn that a crime has been committed, I am by law required to report what I know to the proper authorities. Beyond that, I honor the confidences of clients. As far as nonclients are concerned, however, I operate on a case-by-case basis.”

“Understood,” he said tightly, realizing that his “we’re-both-men-of-the-world” approach wasn’t working on me. “All right. I am going to elect to trust you.”

“That’s your choice, of course.”

“Of course. When Megan came to my apartment Wednesday night, it was to talk about Noreen and... what had happened to her. She was concerned that, and I know this sounds ridiculous, that she might be viewed by Wolfe as a suspect in Linville’s killing.”

“I don’t mean to sound either disrespectful or cynical, Mr. Pamsett, but how did Mrs. James think you could be of help in this area?”

“I think it was mainly that I have a sympathetic ear,” he answered. “She knows that she can talk candidly to me without being judged or criticized.”

“How would you describe your relationship with Mrs. James?”

“How do you mean?” What was left of his smile had evaporated.

“I thought the question was clearly stated. Answer it in whatever way seems natural. If I have a problem with your response, I’ll say so.”

“I find that a somewhat intrusive posture,” Pamsett said, still trying to sound chummy, but with irritation showing around the edges.

“Suit yourself,” I told him, “but remember, you’re the one who urged me to ask you questions, and that was only a few minutes ago. Okay, now I’m asking. You can answer or not, that’s your draw.”

Pamsett crossed one leg over the other and contemplated the back of his hand. “Megan and I have known each other for... six, maybe seven years now. I am a widower, my children grown and gone to live in other parts of the country — and the world. Megan is of course divorced. We spend a good deal of time together. We eat out, go to concerts, shows, various civic and benefit functions. Quite simply, we have a lot in common and enjoy each other’s company. If I may venture a comment — and not a disrespectful one, I assure you — I suspect our relationship, to use your term, is not wholly unlike the one you have with Megan’s very charming and attractive half-sister.”

He had me there. In fact, as he had been describing what the two of them do together, I was struck by the similarity to so many of my activities with Lily. “Point taken,” I said, grinning to show that there were no hard feelings on my part. “Care to speculate on who might have bumped off Linville?”

Pamsett tugged on his ear, then shook his head. “I simply cannot believe it was Michael. The act is totally out of character for him, even given the enormity of the act committed by the Linville boy. But I certainly can think of no one else to nominate. Might I inquire as to what progress you and Mr. Wolfe are making in this direction?”

“Mr. Wolfe pretty much keeps his own counsel in these matters. For all I know, he may already have things figured out, but if that’s the case, he hasn’t chosen to share his thoughts with me.”

Pamsett frowned, running a hand along the wavy gray-white hair on the side of his head. The guy really did look — and act — like something out of an English movie. “Do you have any idea at all when, or if, he is likely to make a determination?”

“Look, I’m sorry to be so vague, but one, you’re not our client, and two, I’m not kidding when I say that Mr. Wolfe is pretty damn tight-lipped regarding his thought processes. I’m not even going to speculate on when he will choose to say something, let alone on what he will have to say.”

“I see. All right, you’ve been most generous with your time, especially at this late hour,” Pamsett said, making a move to get up.

“Oh, before you go, I have a question,” I said casually.

“Yes.”

“I wonder how you happened to be at the funeral services for Sparky Linville. And also at the cemetery.”

Now, Pamsett is smooth, but not that smooth. The questions clearly got to him. At that, the guy handled himself pretty well. “Oh, yes, yes, I was at both. Nice services, don’t you think? As to why I was there, that is a valid question,” he conceded, nodding.

“I thought it was.”

“Well, this is a little embarrassing, but only if the reason for my being there gets back to Megan.”

“That seems unlikely.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that. Well, in all candor, Mr. Goodwin, I went to the services because I was... well, afraid Megan would appear there and make some sort of scene — you know, berate the dead boy’s parents and all.”

“Doesn’t that seem a little farfetched?”

“You don’t know Megan very well,” he replied earnestly.

“Perhaps not. But what would she gain from something like that?”

“Nothing, it’s true. But I’ve watched Megan grow increasingly irrational over the last several months. And now, this horrible business with Noreen has just about put her over the brink.”

“Are you suggesting Alzheimer’s?”

“Oh, no, no. But she’s definitely unbalanced. I have very great affection for Megan, Mr. Goodwin. I know a wonderful side of her — a side she allows far too few people to see. But she also has her demons, God help her.” He gestured toward the ceiling.

“But couldn’t you have just stayed with her the morning of the funeral? That would have prevented her from going.”

“She would have seen right through that,” Pamsett said, spreading his hands. “As it turned out, though, my precautions were unnecessary, weren’t they? She wasn’t there, and nothing happened.”

“Nothing happened,” I agreed.

“Well, I really must be going now. Thank you so much for your time,” Pamsett said. I followed him down the hall to the door, suggesting that his best chance to get a cab quickly was at Eighth Avenue. He thanked me and we shook hands like gentlemen before he stepped out into the night. David Niven was never more elegant.

I thanked him too, albeit silently, for saving me a trip to see him tomorrow.