Too Many Women

CHAPTER Thirty-Five

Four days and nights had brought us to another Saturday. There had been, on Wednesday, a long session with Cramer. He had left, after two hours in the red leather chair, with as little love for us as when he arrived. He could beef, and did, but that was all, for he had no peg on which to hang anything. He would have dearly loved to see a headline in the Gazetee, POLICE SOLVE TWO MURDERS, but he never did.

There had been, on Friday, the day after Jasper Pine’s funeral, a long session with the three vice-presidents, one of whom was acting president. It was strictly off the record, and as far as we were concerned that was as far as it ever got. Cecily had talked to them, with her block of stock to back it up, and I suppose her father had too. The Board of Directors never got to see a transcript of the notes in my book. Only one copy of the transcript was made, and it was locked in our safe and is still there.

Saturday at eleven in the morning, when Wolfe came down from the plant rooms I was busy at my desk. There were a couple of little typing jobs connected with the Naylor-Kerr affair, one of them being the bill for services rendered. It included a careful and exact itemization of expenses incurred- Wolfe was always a stickler for that-but the expenses were peanuts compared to the main entry, the fee. I would have been willing to defend the position that he had really earned one-tenth of it, which after all meant only one extra cipher.

I was typing the itemization of expenses when the phone rang and I answered it.

“Archie? Guess who this is!” “Now, Gwynne darling. That voice? Don’t be silly.” “Then you haven’t entirely forgotten me? I was sure you had. Aren’t we ever going to see you in the stock department again?” “I guess not. I can’t stand the propinquity. P-R-O-“ “Don’t be so smart. It’s too bad because I have a lot of things to tell you! I never knew so much to happen in one week! Mr. Rosenbaum is the new head of the department, and Mr. Appleton has been made-oh, I just have to see you! I have nothing to do this evening. Have you?” The fact was I hadn’t. I had had a date with Lily Rowan, but she was in bed with a cold.

“I am simply dying,” I declared, “to hear about Mr. Appleton. Meet me at the bar at Rusterman’s at seven.” “But they don’t have dancing there! I thought we-” “Excuse me for interrupting, but I have work to do. We can move on after we eat and dance all night. See you at seven o’clock, dearie.” I ignored the snort from Wolfe’s direction and resumed at the typewriter. When the bill was finished I read it over and checked the additions, folded it neatly and put it in an envelope, and filed the carbon in the cabinet over by the couch. Then I returned to the typewriter, inserted a sheet of my personal stationery, dated it, and started: Dear Mrs. Pine: Last night I went I had to stop to answer the phone again.

“Archie? This is Rosa.” “Well, well. You don’t need to tell me. That voice. How are the curves?” “Now really.” She tittered. “How can you find out on the telephone? You know, I went to bed last night at nine o’clock, and I didn’t get up till ten this morning, and I feel simply wonderful! While I was drinking my coffee it reminded me of you, and this is Saturday, and I wondered if you were doing anything this evening.” “Nothing special. Are you?” “No, that’s why I called. I thought-” “Good for you. Meet me at the bar at Rusterman’s at seven o’clock.” “Oh, that wonderful wine! A.nd steak?” “Sure, two steaks. Or maybe thiree. Seven sharp?” “Yes!” Wolfe snorted again, and again. I ignored it. Anyway, I had to put ray rnimd on my work. This was not a case of transcribing from notes; I had to concentrate on a job of original composition. I proceeded with it: Dear Mrs. Pine: Last night I went to a fortune-teller, which is something I seldom do. What was bothering me was your remark the other day that everybody gets tiresome sooner or later, and I wanted to find out where I stood. She told me that the most I could count on was two months. It seems that I am wonderful as long as I last and then I go tiresome all at once without any warning.

I regret to say that under the circumstances it wouldn’t be worth it to you, and I am therefore returning herewith the baseball tickets. It is still two weeks before the season starts, so you have plenty of time to dig up another prospect.

Sincerely, I was debating whether to sign it just Archie or with my full name, and had decided in favor of the latter when the phone interrupted me again. I picked it up.

“Nero Wolfe’s office, Archie Goodwin speaking.” “This is Hester Livsey, Mr. Goodwin.” “Good morning.” I cleared my throat. “What do you want?” “I know I deserve that,” she said. “I want to say I’m sorry I was rude to you when you phoned Thursday evening. I-I hope you’ll understand. I didn’t feel like anything, and I was terribly rude. I wanted to explain-” “Don’t mention it. Feeling better?” “Oh, yes, much better. I really would like to explain some things to you. Would you care to come over here this evening-you know my address, don’t you? It’s just a little apartment where I live with my mother.” “In Brooklyn.” “Yes. Twenty-three ninety-four-” “Yeah, I know. I guess I can find it. How about taking a ride with me tomorrow, in Mr. Wolfe’s rackety old sedan, to the country somewhere and see if spring has come?” “I’m sorry, I couldn’t make it tomorrow because my mother and I are going to visit some friends. Don’t bother, really-” “No bother at all.” An idea struck me. “The trouble is I’m so uncouth I’m afraid I’d make a bad impression on your mother. I think you ought to know me better before you invite me to your home. Do you know where Rusterman’s restaurant is?”

“Rusterman’s? Certainly.” “That’s a nice quiet place with good food. How about meeting me in Rusterman’s bar at seven this evening?” “Well-that wasn’t-I wasn’t fishing for a dinner-” “No, I know, you don’t fish. But I think it might be very enjoyable, at least for me. Will you?” “Well-” “You will.” “All right, I will.” I hung up, reached for my pen, and signed the letter to Cecily.

Wolfe growled at me, “What the devil are you going to do with all of them?” I grinned at him. “God knows, I don’t. I’m so damn sociable. I can’t bear to disappoint people.”

The End

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