The Last Coincidence

Nine

Because any discussion of business is verboten at meals in the brownstone, Noreen James’s name didn’t come up during lunch. However, as soon as Wolfe and I were back in the office with coffee after having laid waste to the spareribs and the raspberries in sherry cream, I dialed Lily at home.

“Mr. Wolfe can see your niece at three, which is only forty minutes from now,” I said. “Can you relay that message to her?”

“I’ll be happy to. I owe you something — say, dinner at La Ronde?”

“Sold, although of course I’ve earned every dollar of that meal. One more thing: As you are well aware, Nero Wolfe’s services hardly come cheap. Is your niece, uh...”

“My dear chap, if ‘loaded’ is the word you’re groping for, the answer is affirmative, and that’s spelled with capital letters. I gather her ability to pay is in question?”

“I wasn’t sure if she had an independent source of income, other than her publishing job, that is. Or if she’d have to tap into one of her parents — specifically her mother. I’m not wild about the idea of, in effect, having your half-sister as our client.”

“Oh, stop worrying. I don’t make it a habit to pry into the financial condition of members of my family, but in Noreen’s case, I happen to know — and only because she told me — that on her twenty-first birthday she came into the first payment of a trust fund, and that it brought her something over a million. And there is plenty more on the way a few years down the line in another installment. Unlike my case, it hasn’t spoiled her, though; she’s worked, by choice, from the day she got out of school, and she is by no means a reckless spender. She does buy nice clothes, though, despite the way she looked this morning. Anyway, the bottom line is that you and Wolfe can charge your usual outrageous fees without having to worry about guilty consciences.”

“I never have a guilty conscience,” I said, trying to sound offended. “Also, you are not spoiled. Lazy — maybe. Spoiled — never.”

“You sweet-talker,” she purred. “If you don’t hear from me in the next ten minutes, Noreen will be on your doorstep promptly at three.”

It was actually seven minutes after three when the doorbell sounded. “That would be Miss James,” I said to Wolfe, who gave no sign from behind his book that he had heard me.

Viewed through the one-way panel in our front door, Noreen James looked like a different person from the one I had seen earlier in her mother’s apartment. Granted, she had now been awake for several hours, had made up her face and fixed her hair, and was clad in a crisp blue shirtdress with a white belt and white pumps. As Lily said, she does dress well.

“Good afternoon, and please come in,” I said with a smile as I swung the door open.

“Hello, again, Mr. Goodwin,” she responded primly, returning the smile. “And thank you for getting me such a fast appointment.”

“Call me Archie, and thanks aren’t necessary. Part of my role is to see that my employer doesn’t get rusty from disuse.” I ushered Noreen into the office and made the introductions. Lily must have primed her, because she seemed to know that Wolfe is not a hand-shaker.

“I appreciate your seeing me,” she said, easing into the red leather chair and keeping her eyes on Wolfe. “I have my checkbook here, and—”

“A moment, Miss James.” Wolfe raised a palm. If he was rankled by having a young woman as a prospective client — something that has unsettled him on occasion — he didn’t let it show. The man never ceases to amaze me. “My agreeing to talk to you does not necessarily signify a contract between us. That may result, but not until I know considerably more than is now the case.”

“All right,” Noreen said, folding her hands in her lap and meeting his eyes squarely. She seemed undaunted by Wolfe and his size, which endeared her to me. “But first, I have to tell you both the news: Michael is out on bond. My father took your advice, Mr. Goodwin — Archie. His attorney recommended a criminal lawyer, his name is Hargrove, and this man argued that Michael has no record and that his family is well-known. So now he’s free.”

“At least for the moment,” I remarked. “But, hey, that’s a victory of sorts. And from what little I know about Hargrove, you’ve got yourself a top-flight man.”

Wolfe snorted, which was meant to reflect his opinion of lawyers in general. “Before we begin, Miss James, may I offer you something to drink? I’m having beer, but Mr. Goodwin can get you any one of a variety of beverages.” She said no thanks and Wolfe rang for beer, readjusting his bulk.

“Very well. Mr. Goodwin has supplied me with some basic information, but I have myriad questions, a few of a personal nature.”

“I’m ready.”

“First, how did you meet Mr. Linville?”

“Through my roommate — Polly Mars. She and I went to college together, at Smith, and for the last two years we’ve shared an apartment on the Upper West Side. She’s a fashion model, kind of struggling at it, but getting herself a few jobs.”

“And where did Miss Mars make the acquaintance of Mr. Linville?”

“At Orion — that’s a bar up on Second Avenue where a lot of people our age hang out.”

“You among them?”

She colored slightly. “Oh, I’ve been there a couple of times with Polly,” she said, brushing her hair back from her forehead. “But I’m not really into those places. They’re awfully noisy for one thing, and most of the people are phonies, if you know what I mean.”

Wolfe didn’t know, and didn’t care. “So Miss Mars brought you together?”

“Not directly,” Noreen said, crossing one slim leg over the other and smoothing her skirt. “Actually, she had several dates with... Sparky, and the first time I met him was when they came back to our apartment one night after hitting a few of the places. I could tell he was interested in me, and a couple days later he called and asked me to go out.”

“How did Miss Mars react to this?”

“That was the first thing that occurred to me, as you might imagine,” Noreen said. “She knew before she ever went out with him that he had a reputation for being pretty wild, but from what I could tell, and from our talks, she was having a good time with him. Anyway, when he called me and asked me out, I didn’t say yes right away; I put him off, asked him to call back later. And then I told Polly about it. She said it didn’t bother her at all, that she was getting tired of going to the same places with him — like Orion and Morgana’s. You should see Polly, Mr. Wolfe. She’s really beautiful, tall and blond. She’s never had trouble getting dates. She’s gone out with guys just as rich and well-known as Sparky, so being around him was no big deal with her.”

“Did she warn you about anything?” Wolfe asked.

“You mean...” She took a deep breath, then shook her head vigorously. “No. And I got the impression nothing much went on between them. But I didn’t ask her during the time they were seeing each other, and she didn’t volunteer any details. We’re pretty good friends, but we don’t talk about... that with each other, never have.”

I knew Wolfe was uncomfortable with the subject. But I also was aware, given his respect and admiration for Lily, that he was willing to tough it out, at least for a while.

“So you agreed to an engagement with Mr. Linville?”

“Yes, and we had a very good time that first night. To be honest, I was a little worried beforehand. Most of the guys I’ve gone out with, at least until recently, have been, you know, fairly conservative. Maybe that’s because I’m what you’d call conservative too, I guess. And I’d have to say I was flattered by the attention. Anyway, on our first date we went to a comedy revue down in the Village, which was very funny. Then we had a couple of drinks at Morgana’s, where we ran into some of his friends, and then he took me home — all very innocent. God, was I fooled. Talk about a babe in the woods.”

Wolfe drank beer and glowered at his nearly empty glass. “So there was a second engagement?”

Noreen nodded. “Right. By now, I was thinking Sparky Linville was just an exuberant rich young guy whose activities had gotten blown out of proportion by the papers. And there was even something about him in People or Us one time, I think. Anyway, yes, I did go out with him again — once.”

Wolfe contemplated her but said nothing. She returned the look, then glanced my way. Only a stone-heart could fail to have sympathy for her at this point, and even Wolfe isn’t a stone-heart. We both waited for her to continue.

“So the second time we went out, on a Saturday night, it was just for drinks, to — where else? — Orion and then Morgana’s. He took me home early and invited himself up. Polly was gone for the weekend, staying with her folks up in Bronxville.”

“Did Mr. Linville know your roommate was away?” Wolfe asked.

“Not that I’m aware of, although I guess I must have mentioned it when we got upstairs. Anyway, we each had a beer, I turned on some music, and...” She braced her shoulders. Wolfe leaned back, closing his eyes, then took a breath, came forward in his chair, and started to say something, but Noreen cut him off.

“Before you ask the question, I’ll answer it for you, Mr. Wolfe,” she said, measuring her words. “I did not — repeat, did not — do anything to lead him on or encourage him. I’ve thought about it at least a dozen times every day since it happened, and I know I did absolutely nothing to make him think I was...” Her voice was a little wobbly.

“I was not about to pose that question, Miss James,” Wolfe responded evenly. “What I was about to ask was if you saw or spoke to Mr. Linville after that night.”

Noreen’s voice strengthened. That was good. Wolfe probably was shaking in his brown wing-tips, worried she might burst into tears.

“I didn’t see him again — not ever. He phoned three or four times, and I hung up when I heard his voice. He called Polly at least twice and asked her to get me to the phone, but when she told me who it was, I wouldn’t talk to him.”

“Did you tell Miss Mars what had transpired?”

“No, but she pretty much figured it out from the way I guess I was acting, plus the fact that I had a small bruise on one cheek, although I told her that was from falling on a bus when the driver slammed on the brakes. She kept asking what had happened between Sparky and me. I wouldn’t tell her — I just couldn’t. I couldn’t tell anybody.” Noreen took a couple of deep breaths, but gave a negative wave of the hand when I asked if she wanted a drink. All the color was gone from her face.

“Whom did you tell — and when?” Wolfe asked. I was probably the only person alive who could detect that he was moved by the narrative.

“Aunt Lily was really the first, and that was just this last Saturday, when we had brunch,” she said. “I’d been carrying it around with me for weeks. My mother was away, or she surely would have figured something out, and Michael and I hadn’t been together lately — no particular reason, just our separate lives. Same with Daddy, I hadn’t seen much of him for a couple of months. And actually, I didn’t even tell Aunt Lily who did it, just that it was someone I’d gone out with. She figured it out, though. She knew I’d been out with Sparky. And I think she said she’d been introduced to him, I forget exactly where.”

“So Mr. Linville knew Miss Rowan?”

“Uh... yes — at least they’d met,” Noreen said. “Why?”

“And was he also aware that Miss Rowan and Mr. Goodwin are good friends?” Wolfe asked, ignoring her question.

Noreen wrinkled her face. “Mm, it might have come up. I vaguely remember mentioning something to him after Aunt Lily’s name had come up in conversation, what with Mr. Goodwin being so... well-known and all.”

Wolfe allowed himself a slight grimace at the mention of my renown. “When did your mother learn what had transpired with Mr. Linville?”

“She got home Tuesday from Europe, and Michael and I had an informal little welcome-back party — at her place. You know, champagne, a few balloons, a sign on the door. We invited Edward — Mr. Pamsett — too, because he and Mother have been what you might call an item for some time now, a few years, I guess. I worked extra hard to look good and act cheerful. But Mother saw right through me.”

“And she managed to worm it out of you?”

“I’ll say. I guess I sort of went to pieces. Some celebration that turned out to be! I really put a damper on the big homecoming.” She looked down, pleating the skirt of her dress with her fingers.

“So on Tuesday night, not only your mother but also your brother and Mr. Pamsett knew what had happened,” Wolfe asked rhetorically. “I assume they also learned that the other party was Mr. Linville?”

Noreen nodded. “Mother was almost hysterical, which I suppose you can attribute partly to the jet lag, but through all her rantings she seemed mainly freaked-out that the newspapers would get hold of the story. Heaven help us if the sainted family name gets sullied, you know? And now what’s likely to happen to the family name in the media? Michael went nuts. I’ve never seen him so mad. In fact, he hit a glass-topped cocktail table so hard with his fist that he put a crack in it. Edward stayed his usual laid-back self, though. He thought we ought to go to the police, which really made Mother crazy.”

“Can you recall what your brother said?”

“Oh, he was furious. He started yelling about how I should have been happy to be going out with Doug. But he was only mad at himself. You know, for not being able to protect me.”

“Doug?”

“That’s somebody I see fairly often, Douglas Rojek. And then he began yelling about how people like...” Noreen took a deep breath, then another, as if she couldn’t bear to pronounce the name. “...like him are treated in other countries when they get caught doing... well, you know. He was pretty... graphic.”

“Did he make any specific threats at that time involving Mr. Linville?”

“No, just rantings. But that’s Michael — he’s mostly bark. I’ve never known him to even throw a punch at anyone, except as a college boxer, and he only did that to fulfill his sports requirement. Violence is not in his nature.”

“So noted,” Wolfe remarked dryly. “But let us for a moment consider this consecution: A young woman is outrageously ill-used by a flamboyant and wealthy libertine. Soon thereafter, this debauchee is found dead, an apparent murder victim. The young woman’s protective and outraged older brother, apprehended by the police, although not resisting them, readily confesses to the slaying. You must admit we have here, especially from the law-enforcement perspective, a compelling scenario. Were I a district attorney, I would relish such a situation.”

Noreen bristled. “You sound like an enemy rather than a friend.”

Wolfe regarded her beatifically. “It is most often friends who tell us what we least wish to hear.”

She looked at him doubtfully, then turned to me for a reaction. I raised one eyebrow and smiled.

“Oh, you’re right, of course,” she said, shifting nervously in the red leather chair. “I’m sorry for flaring up, but I’m positive Michael is innocent. Won’t you please help?”

Wolfe considered her and then looked at the wall clock, confirming that his afternoon sojourn with the orchids was perilously close at hand. “Madam,” he said, “you no doubt are aware that my fees are what some have termed exorbitant.”

“I am aware of that. I can afford you.”

He closed his eyes and coupled his hands over his center mound. I knew he was trying to figure out a good reason why he should turn Noreen down. Work was bad enough; a woman client was worse. But he also knew that if he gave her a thumbs-down, he’d have to listen to me carping about the bank balance. Simply put, the big guy was between the proverbial rock and hard place. After thirty seconds he opened his eyes and considered Noreen without enthusiasm.

“Very well. I accept your commission, but with two provisos: First, I cannot, and will not, guarantee success, if you define success as the exoneration of your brother. I will of course explore avenues that seem most likely to bring forth another candidate as Mr. Linville’s murderer. Second, I will likely need to speak to some of your acquaintances — among them Miss Mars and perhaps the gentleman of whom you spoke that you see with some regularity. Mr....?”

“Rojek. Doug Rojek.”

“Yes. In the course of my and Mr. Goodwin’s conversations with them and with others, it is probable that your unfortunate experience with Mr. Linville will be unavoidably brought into the discussion. Is this of overriding concern to you?”

Noreen blinked twice. “Just yesterday, I would have said yes, but now, what happened to me doesn’t seem very important anymore. My brother is innocent, Mr. Wolfe. Ask anybody anything that you think will help Michael.”

“That is a pragmatic position to take, Miss James,” Wolfe said. For him, the tone was almost approving. “And now I must leave for a previous engagement. However, Mr. Goodwin will work with you on details and specifics.” Having thus spoken, Wolfe levered himself to his feet and made for the hall and the elevator.

What Wolfe means by “details and specifics” is, among other things, the discussion of our fees with the client. And since he doesn’t like to trouble himself with the specifics of such mundane and mercenary considerations, he leaves them to me — knowing full well that as chief bookkeeper, checkbook-balancer, and bill-payer, I will always make sure that our income is sufficient to cover niceties including the fresh fish, meat, and vegetables that Fritz insists on ordering; the cases of beer that Wolfe insists on consuming; and the salaries that Theodore, Fritz, and I insist on receiving. So far, we always have had enough Federal Reserve notes coming in to ensure that life in the brownstone will continue to function in the manner to which Wolfe long ago became accustomed. For that, I take more than a little of the credit.

“Now, Miss James,” I said, swiveling to face our guest after Wolfe had departed for the plant rooms, “before we go any further, let’s talk about details and specifics.”