The Missing Heiress

Chapter 15

Both our clients left the brownstone that morning frustrated, but they were hardly alone. The three of us — Wolfe, Saul, and I — were also far from satisfied. For several seconds after their departure, no one spoke. Finally, Wolfe said, “Archie, get Fred and Orrie here at three. Saul, I assume you can also be present at that time.”

“Yes, sir, I can.”

That was Wolfe at his finger-snapping best. Give an order, and expect it to be carried out, without question. But then, I follow orders — most of the time. In this case, I was able to deliver, and the trio of operatives sat in the office at three with drinks, awaiting direction.

Wolfe summarized the situation, admitting a lack of progress. “We don’t know where Maureen Carr is, we don’t know where her brother is, and we also don’t know the identity of the man Miss Carr met with in Albany, call him Mr. X.”

“I wasn’t very successful up there,” Saul said. “I will pay for that trip myself, to atone for my failure.”

“Nonsense!” Wolfe snapped. “You did not have a lot to go on. I would like to learn the identity of Mr. X, which may allow us to break this logjam. I propose, if you are willing, that all three of you go to Albany, armed with photographs of Miss Carr, and spread out, combing the city and its environs.

“Go into establishments there, primarily restaurants and bars, and learn if anyone can identify Mr. X. I concede this is a challenge, but Miss Carr and this man apparently were together for between one and two hours. It is likely they were seen, and it also is likely, although by no means sure, that one of those individuals who observed the pair might be able to identify Miss Carr’s escort, who may well be a denizen of Albany. And each of you probably should rent an automobile to assist in your search.”

“I’m game,” Saul said. “What about you two?”

“Count me in,” Durkin answered. “They must have gone someplace to eat — or drink.”

“Or both,” Orrie chimed in. “Is Archie going, too?”

As I mentioned before, Orrie Cather always has been interested in what my role will be in a case, because he is convinced that he would fit nicely into my role as Wolfe’s assistant.

“I have assignments for Archie here, Orrie,” Wolfe replied. “I believe the three of you are an adequate force to cover Albany and the surrounding area. I expect daily reports from you, Saul.”

“What if we learn the guy’s identity? Do we try to find him?” Orrie asked.

“Not yet,” Wolfe said. “Telephone for instructions.” That settled, the boys departed and Saul said they would leave for Albany that afternoon.

“The expense accounts for this project will be hefty,” I told Wolfe.

“So far, these trips have only been to Albany. It is not as if we are putting people on airplanes to California or Florida,” he said.

“True. And Eric Mason seems ready and eager to provide whatever funds are needed, so I suppose I shouldn’t worry. Do you honestly believe that one among our stalwart trio will learn the identity of our Mr. X?”

“You have said you like long shots, Archie.”

“True, it’s always entertaining to see a fifty-to-one horse win a race. But I would never bet those odds myself. All right, what do we do now?”

“We wait to look at Miss Carr’s mail, another long shot.”

Wolfe was frustrated, and so was I, for that matter. But I failed to see how looking at unopened mail could possibly help us. As if on cue, Lily telephoned, and I told Wolfe to pick up his phone. “I have Maureen’s mail, Archie. When would you like me to bring it over?”

“I am about to visit the orchids, Miss Rowan, but you can bring it here anytime,” Wolfe said.

Lily told us she would come now, which was jake with me. Her presence would give me a lift, and I needed one.

Less than a half hour later, the doorbell rang, and there she was on the stoop, clutching to her chest a shopping bag filled with mail.

“Set it down on Wolfe’s desk,” I told her when we got to the office. “Did you see Sofia at Maureen’s place?”

“I didn’t. I had asked her to give me a key so I wouldn’t have to pester her every time I went there.”

“She had a spare?”

“She does now. She said she was afraid to lose the one she had, so she got two duplicates made at a hardware store and gave one to me. She said she was sure Maureen wouldn’t mind.”

“Very smart of her.”

“I think she is very smart, Archie, and I was surprised when she said she was afraid of losing the key. I can’t imagine her being that careless. At first, she comes off as shy and humble, self-effacing, as you might say. But the more I’ve gotten to know her, I have seen an inner strength and a determination to succeed.”

“Glad to hear that. She certainly speaks English well.”

“Sofia told me that in the time she spent in England during and just after the war, she listened to the people around her and was able to pick up the language quickly.”

“That assumes the language the Brits speak is the same one you and I use to communicate.”

“Very funny, Mr. Goodwin,” she said, giving me a mild shove.

“That’s me, ever the card. Always leave ’em laughing is my motto.”

“Why do you think I was attracted to you in the first place? You’ve always made me laugh.”

“As long as you’re laughing with me and not at me.”

“It’s really a little of both.”

Lily had only been in the brownstone five minutes, and already I was feeling better. That’s what she does for me, and to me. “Say, the dinner Fritz is preparing for tonight is such that Wolfe can easily eat all of the entrée. I suggest we have cocktails at the Plaza bar and then sup at Rusterman’s. My treat, of course.”

“In addition to being funny, you are one sweet talker, as I’ve often said.”

When I got back to the brownstone later that night, Wolfe was still at his desk. “I trust you and Miss Rowan had a pleasant dinner.”

“We did, and I knew you wouldn’t miss me. I assume you were able to finish tonight’s entrée yourself.”

“I was. I also went through the latest batch of Miss Carr’s mail and found nothing of interest.”

“Did the boys, or most likely Saul, check in from Albany?”

“No, but they have only been there a few hours. I expect we will hear from them tomorrow.”

Saul did indeed call in the next day, just after Wolfe had come down from his morning excursion in the greenhouse. “Fred seems to be on a hot streak,” he said as Wolfe picked up his instrument and I stayed on the line. “He keeps learning more than either Orrie or me.”

“Don’t keep us in suspense,” I said.

“I just want to make sure he gets full credit. Late last night, and I do mean in the wee hours, Fred had been making the rounds of numerous eateries north of Albany when he stopped at a roadhouse on Route 378. He showed Miss Carr’s photo around, and one of the waiters recognized her. He remembered she had been in there at lunch a few weeks back with a man named Miles Hirsch.”

“What was the waiter able to tell Fred about Mr. Hirsch?” Wolfe asked.

“Not much, other than he’d eaten in the joint several times. This morning, all three of us have been asking around at hotels, restaurants, and shops about Hirsch and haven’t had a lot of luck. One counterman Orrie talked to in a coffee shop, though, seemed to know who he was and clammed up tight.”

“Spend some more time today making inquiries, Saul,” Wolfe said. “But do not beat the proverbial dead horse and return home by nightfall.”

I turned to Wolfe after we had cradled our phones. “It is time for a call to Lon Cohen.” He nodded in agreement.

I described our relationship with Lon Cohen earlier. He is always curious as to what Wolfe and I are working on, and he would be again this time, so I decided to put him on the defensive. After he answered by barking his name as usual, I said, “Nero Wolfe and I were chatting yesterday and trying to remember how many scoops we’ve given to the Gazette. We came up with—”

“Just a minute, private flatfoot. Why do I feel like you’ve got your hand in the pocket where I keep my wallet?”

“First, my feet are not flat. Second, my boss and I were just having an academic discussion.”

“Academic, my aunt Fannie. It’s painfully obvious that you’re looking for something, which invariably is the case when you call me. Look, I’ve got deadlines looming. Out with it — what is it that you want?”

“Does the name Miles Hirsch mean anything to you, Mr. Cohen?” Wolfe asked.

“It does. Why do you need to know?”

“Just curious,” I said.

“You two are never ‘just curious.’ Does this have anything to do with your query a few days back about a man named Everett Carr?” Lon asked.

“It might,” I said.

“Of course, it might. I recall that Carr was in a Hell’s Kitchen bookie joint during a raid and Miles Hirsch is one of the biggest gamblers in the state, legitimate or otherwise — often otherwise. I am surprised that neither of you have heard of him.”

“We are not overly conversant with the world of wagering,” I told him.

“Certainly not the kind of wagering you do every Thursday night at Panzer’s poker table.”

“If I recall correctly, I was the big winner last week, and you were among those who left with fewer shekels than when the evening began.”

“Hey, miracles happen. Or as they say, every dog has his day.”

“Arf. Now what can you tell me about Miles Hirsch?”

“I’ll call you back in five or ten minutes. I’ve got a couple things I have to deal with right now.”

It was thirty minutes later when Lon phoned us. “Okay, I’ve had the clips on Hirsch brought up from the morgue, and we’ve written almost nothing about him. I’ve learned more about the man from a couple of our court and beat reporters. It’s apparent that he’s one sharp customer. Or maybe it’s more accurate to say he’s got sharp mouthpieces, because although he’s been charged several times, he has always managed to avoid the cooler. He’s a big-time operator, with a co-op on Park Avenue and a country place up near Saratoga Springs, where that famous track is. He also owns a string of racehorses, although someone else fronts for him, so his name never appears in connection with the horses.”

“Among his activities, is he a moneylender?” Wolfe asked.

That brought a chuckle from Lon. “You might say that. He operates like a big-time bookmaker, and he charges high interest rates to those he makes loans to, according to one of our men. It sounds like this must have something to do with that guy Carr you asked about.”

“It might, although we’re still feeling our way here,” I put in.

“Well, my advice is to feel your way very carefully. I told you Hirsch is sharp, but he’s shady as well. He has got some toughs working for him, and they’ve been known to threaten people who owe him money.”

“Has anybody complained about strong-arm stuff?”

“A few have, although Hirsch usually talks his way out of trouble — with his lawyers’ help. Apparently, the threats are subtle enough that they’re hard to prove in a courtroom or a hearing. But from what I’m learning, a lot of people are afraid of Hirsch. As to whether his boys have ever roughed anybody up, we have no record of it.”

“Thanks for the information,” I told Lon.

“As long as the flow of information is a two-way street,” he replied.