The Missing Heiress

Chapter 9

So now we knew almost surely that Maureen had withdrawn a healthy sum from her account at the Continental Bank & Trust Company. I say almost surely because we were relying on the words — or lack thereof — from Mortimer M. Hotchkiss. However, I knew Wolfe felt comfortable in the knowledge that Hotchkiss was playing straight with us. And knowing the banker almost as well as Wolfe does, I also felt he gave us the information we requested without having to utter a single word.

“You need to apprise Miss Rowan of this development,” Wolfe said as he picked up his current book, Crusade in Europe, by Dwight D. Eisenhower.

Lily may not be a fee-paying client, but to Wolfe, she is a client nonetheless, as he was reminding me. I called her and laid out what we had learned from the banker.

I was met with silence for several seconds, and when she spoke, it was in measured and somber tones.

“I do not like what I have heard. Does Mr. Wolfe have an explanation, or a conjecture?”

“Not so far. I’m sure we will be discussing the situation. What are your thoughts?”

“I... I don’t know. Fifty thousand dollars, if that really is the figure; what a lot to withdraw at once. And for what reason?”

“It could take Maureen a lot of places, including around the world on an ocean liner,” I said, trying to lighten the mood. I failed.

“Be serious! Something bad has happened to her, really bad, I am sure of it. I have thought so all along, and now this...”

“As I said, Mr. Wolfe and I are going to talk, and we will let you know what the next moves will be.”

Lily clearly was not satisfied, and I did not blame her.

After we hung up, I swiveled toward to Wolfe. “Lily isn’t happy with what’s happened, as you no doubt could tell from my end of the conversation.”

He set down his book and scowled. “What would you have me do?” he demanded.

“You are the genius in this operation. Figure something out.”

“Pfui. I will not be badgered!”

“Way back in the dark ages, you hired me to be a burr under your saddle, among my other duties. So that’s what I am being — a burr.”

Wolfe’s response was to pick up the book and continue reading. I had been dismissed, a not-unusual occurrence in the office.

When we reached an impasse like this one, I had several options: one, I could go for a walk; two, I could continue to badger Wolfe; or three, I could threaten to resign. As I was mulling these options, the phone jangled and I answered, as usual, “Nero Wolfe’s office, Archie Goodwin speaking.”

“Mr. Goodwin, this is Eric Mason. You may not recall this, but we met briefly at Lily Rowan’s penthouse last year, where she was having a cocktail benefit for one of her charities.”

“Yes, I do remember you, Mr. Mason. You’re with the ad agency Gordon and Grove, and Lily has told me you have won a lot of creative awards.”

“You have a good memory, and you are too kind. I know from Lily that you work for Nero Wolfe, and I would, uh... like to hire him.”

“Really? May I ask for what purpose?”

“To find the woman I intend to marry — Maureen Carr.”

That stopped me in my tracks. “What do you know about Miss Carr at present?”

“I am aware, of course, that she has disappeared. And you probably know that Lily came to see me recently to ask if I had any idea where she was.”

“Yes, I do know that she talked to you. And you told her you couldn’t imagine where she had gone.”

“That is correct, and I have been unable to reach Maureen for more than two weeks now. Also, no one I have talked to who knows her has any clue as to where she is.”

“You may be aware that Mr. Wolfe charges extremely high rates for his services.”

“So I have heard, and I am confident that I can afford those rates.”

“I do not doubt that, but I am unsure of Mr. Wolfe’s willingness to take on your assignment.”

“I would like to come to his office — I know he rarely leaves home — and talk to him face-to-face.”

“I will have to confer with Mr. Wolfe. Please give me the best telephone number where I can reach you.”

Mason gave me a number and asked, “When am I likely to hear from him — or you?”

“I can’t say for sure, but I promise I will do my best to give you a response within a day or so.”

He started to impress upon me the urgency of his request, and I said that everyone who wants to employ Nero Wolfe is in a hurry. I finally had to tell him I had other business and terminated the call.

“Well, I just got thrown a curveball,” I told Wolfe, or whoever that was hiding behind the Eisenhower memoir.

He put the book down. “Another of your time-worn baseball aphorisms. Very well, report.” He sighed.

I recounted verbatim my conversation with Eric Mason, which was hardly a challenge, given its brevity. “So here is a potential client, and a very prosperous one,” I concluded.

“I already have a client!” he barked.

“You do only if you have decided you are going the pro bono route,” I countered. “You often have told me how much money it takes to support this operation, and as I am the keeper of the checkbook and of our financial records, I am well aware of the cash flow necessary to keep this grand old building afloat.”

“I am committed to Miss Rowan — you of all people should know that.”

“And I am pleased that you are, for both professional and personal reasons. However, it appears that both she and Eric Mason have the same goal, the locating of Maureen Carr. I hardly think Lily would object if the two of them became ‘joint clients,’ with one paying the freight.”

Wolfe leaned back, closed his eyes, and spread his arms out on the desk, palms down. “I know little about this man, other than what has been reported and described by both you and Miss Rowan.”

“You have nothing whatever to lose by seeing him. If he doesn’t measure up to your standards, then, okay, consider that he’s out of the picture. And if he seems to you to be a decent sort, then you can ask Miss Rowan if she has any objection to his being a co-client.”

Wolfe doesn’t like it when I argue with him, but he knows I am his equal in stubbornness, if that’s even a word. He said nothing for several beats, then drew in a bushel of air, exhaled, and said, “Very well. Communicate with Mr. Mason and tell him to be here at nine p.m. tonight.”

I dialed the number he had given to me, and on the first ring, he crisply said, “Mason here.”

“Archie Goodwin on this end. Nero Wolfe can see you at nine tonight.” I gave him our address.

“I hoped that was you calling. Excellent. Is there anything I should be prepared for?”

“Just that you will have some questions tossed your way, probably quite a batch of them. How you answer will depend on whether you will become a client, not to put too much pressure on you.”

Mason chuckled. “Hey, I’m in the ad business, Mr. Goodwin, which is nothing if not a pressure cooker. If I couldn’t handle it, I would have been out on my tail a long time ago.”

“See you at nine. Be prompt,” I told him.

In the next half hour, Saul, Fred, and Orrie all checked in, and none of them reported having any success at all in learning more about Everett Carr from the bookies they had visited. I told each of them to cease any further work until they heard back from me.

Eric Mason was more than prompt that evening. He rang our bell at eight fifty, and I swung open the front door to his grin. He must have come straight from work, because he was dressed like a model in a men’s fashion magazine, and he wore his clothes well on his slender six-foot-plus frame. “You look sharp,” I told him.

“Don’t make too much of it,” he replied. “Because I’m in the agency’s creative department, I usually dress casually, but late this afternoon, we had to give a campaign presentation to a Newark bank, and their bunch always dresses in three-piece pinstripes and the like, so we figured we needed to dress like they do.”

“Did it work?” I asked as we walked down the hall to the office.

“Too early to tell. They’re still digesting what we showed them, but I am confident we will get the account.”

Wolfe looked up as we entered the office, and I made the introductions, gesturing Mason to the red leather chair.

“Would you like something to drink, sir? As you can see, I am having beer.”

“I’ll have a scotch and water, thanks,” our guest said, crossing one leg over the other. I went to the wheeled cart and played bartender, handing Mason his drink and settling in at my desk with my notebook.

“Now, Mr. Mason, I understand you wish to hire me to search for Maureen Carr, is that correct?”

“It is,” he said after taking a sip of his drink and nodding approvingly. I had poured from our best label.

“Do you have any idea about her whereabouts, or why she disappeared?”

“I do not, Mr. Wolfe, and I am at a total loss to understand what has happened to her. The last time we were together, which was... well, almost three weeks ago now, I had asked Maureen to marry me.”

“And the woman’s response?” Wolfe asked.

Mason took a deep breath. “Maureen told me she had been expecting my proposal for some time, so she already had given it some thought — a lot of thought, she said. And she told me she was flattered but wanted time to think it over.”

“Your reaction?”

“I had mixed feelings. I was not surprised that she saw my proposal coming, but of course I was hoping for a more definite — that is to say positive — response.”

Wolfe drank beer and set his stein down. “It is my understanding you were by no means the only man spending time with Miss Carr.”

“That is correct,” Mason said, running a hand over sandy hair that showed signs of going gray. “Maureen is a social animal, and I mean that only in a positive sense. She enjoys going out on the town, and she has had numerous escorts, all of whom I know. But those relationships are not what I would call in any sense serious. These men are confirmed bachelors, while I would like to get married again, and the woman I plan to marry, if she will have me, is Maureen Carr.”

“You think you know this woman well enough to propose marriage, yet you have no idea where she is or why she has ‘vamoosed,’ to use a term of Mr. Goodwin’s,” Wolfe said.

“Vamoose makes it sound as if Maureen chose to leave,” Mason said, “but I have to feel that her disappearance was not voluntary.”

“Do you have a theory about that?”

Mason appeared flustered. “I really don’t. As I said before, I am at a total loss as to where she might be — and why.”

Wolfe was being patient. “What do you know about Miss Carr’s past, her family, her upbringing? If she is indeed your intended, you must be curious about her history.”

“I know Maureen’s parents are dead, and that her father was an executive — the principal owner, really — of a steel company somewhere in the Pittsburgh area. I also know that she graduated from Radcliffe with a major in English, and that she worked for a time as a proofreader and then as an editor at a publishing house, Ferris and Reed. When she was there, she met my friend Jason Reed, and he introduced us.”

“Hasn’t Mr. Reed been among her escorts?”

“Yes, that’s true, but their relationship is not romantic, as he has gone out of his way to tell me. Jason has been seen around town with more different dates than I can keep track of. He likes to be seen with pretty women, but he seems to have no interest whatever in a serious relationship. In fact, he has encouraged my involvement with Maureen.”

Wolfe made a face. He doesn’t like hearing about romantic affairs, so I stepped in. “Does Miss Carr have any siblings?” I asked.

“Yes... one, a brother, Everett. Actually, he is a half brother, as they had different mothers.”

“How would you describe their relationship?”

Mason furrowed his brow, as if lost in thought. “They really aren’t at all close, and she almost never mentions him.”

“Is there any reason for that?” I asked.

More brow furrowing. “Well... Everett, whom I never have met, seems to be something of a black sheep in the family. He of course inherited a substantial amount, as did Maureen, but he apparently has chosen to lead an... well, an unconventional lifestyle.”

“In what way?”

“Based on what I have gathered from Maureen, he has never held a job, nor does he have any interest at all in working.”

“One of the advantages of being born with a silver spoon in your mouth,” I observed.

“I suppose so. What success I’ve had has been earned, not inherited. Everett doesn’t seem to care about where he lives or how he dresses, according to Maureen. When I asked what occupies his time, she said his major interest is betting on racehorses.”

“You have given us very little to go on, sir,” Wolfe said. “Might Miss Carr have decamped with her brother?”

“I hardly think so. As I said, she never talks about Everett, and on the few times I’ve brought him up in conversation, she ignores my question or she just changes the subject.”

Wolfe sighed. “You need to know that there already is an individual who has requested that I attempt to locate Miss Carr.”

“Well, why in the hell didn’t you or Goodwin tell me that when I called? It appears that I’ve come here for nothing!” Mason barked, rising.

Wolfe held up a palm. “Please sit down, Mr. Mason. I have no reason why you and this person cannot both engage me.”

“Based on what I’ve heard, I would have expected better of you, Mr. Wolfe,” Mason said, still in a state. “Charging two people for the same job!”

“Wait, please,” Wolfe replied in an even tone. “The other individual involved is not paying me, for reasons that may become evident later.”

“Just who is this?”

“Until I learn if my existing client is comfortable with you joining forces, I cannot reveal a name.”

“Well, that is one hell of a pickle,” Mason said, holding up his empty glass. Ever alert, I got him a refill.

“Let me propose this,” Wolfe said. “We will communicate with this person and find out how to best proceed.”

“When do you plan to do that?” Mason was flushed with anger.

“Right now,” Wolfe said, looking at me. I got the not-so-subtle hint and dialed Lily’s number. When she answered, I said, without preamble, “I am sitting in the office with Nero Wolfe and a gentleman named Eric Mason. Mr. Wolfe would like to speak to you.” I turned to Wolfe, who picked up his instrument.

“Here is the situation,” he said, “Mr. Mason has proposed to engage me to find Maureen Carr. I have explained to him that I already am committed to an individual who also seeks to ascertain the whereabouts of Miss Carr.”

“Are you avoiding speaking my name?” Lily asked from her end of the line.

“I am.”

“All right, I get it. I have no objection whatever to Mason becoming your client. I will drop out.”

“I am not suggesting that, not for a moment.”

“So you will take both of us on?”

“That is my intent.”

“All right, what comes next?” Lily asked.

“Do you have any objection to speaking to Mr. Mason — right now?”

“No, not at all. I assume he does not know who you have on the line.”

“That is correct. Mr. Mason, will you please pick up Mr. Goodwin’s telephone?”

Mason shrugged and leaned over to take the phone. “Hello, who is this?” he said.

“Hello, Eric. You know me.”

“That voice — I know it. Is it... can it be... Lily Rowan?”

“It can indeed,” she replied. “Welcome aboard. That is, if you have no objection to partnering with me.”

“Uh, no, no objection of any kind,” he said, taken aback by this development. “I know you have been a good friend of Maureen’s for a long time, far longer than I’ve known her, so I should not be surprised at your concern for her.”

“We both seem to have the same goal,” Lily said.

“I totally agree.” Mason turned to Wolfe. “What is the next step?”

“I suggest you both meet here with me and Mr. Goodwin. Are you both available tomorrow night, at nine o’clock?”

“I will make myself available,” Mason said.

“So will I,” Lily seconded, “although it will mean breaking a date with Archie to go dancing at the Churchill. I am confident he will take this setback in stride.”

“I am licking my wounds, but somehow they will heal,” I said, loud enough so that Lily could hear through the telephones that Wolfe and Mason were holding close to me.

“That’s a good lad, I am so proud of you,” she retorted in a strong tone that carried easily to me.

“If this raillery has reached its conclusion, I have other business to attend to,” Wolfe said, rising and leaving the office. That “other business” almost surely would be a discussion with Fritz about tomorrow’s lunch and dinner.