Trouble at the Brownstone

Chapter 15

At 8:45 p.m., the doorbell rang and I did the honors. On the stoop were Saul with the men I recognized as Sid and Harvey, although their garb was different from when I played bridge with them. Both sported jackets and ties, perhaps because they felt a meeting with Nero Wolfe demanded a certain amount of decorum.

“Please come in,” I said, and I got looks of uncertainty from each of our guests. “I assume you both now know that I am not ‘Art,’ but rather Archie Goodwin, assistant to Nero Wolfe.”

“We do,” said an unsmiling Harvey, who eyed me over his ever-present half-glasses. Sid nodded but said nothing.

When we got to the office, I gestured the two to yellow chairs facing Wolfe’s desk, while Saul slid into the red leather chair normally reserved for a client or Cramer. “Can I get anyone a drink? We have a well-stocked bar,” I said, nodding to the table against the wall.

“I’ll have a scotch and water,” Saul said, breaking the ice, so to speak.

“Make that two,” said Sid.

“Do you have rye? If so, I would like it on the rocks,” put in Harvey.

I nodded, playing bartender for the trio. Our visitors did not seem surprised that Wolfe wasn’t present, which meant Saul had told them of their host’s habit of not appearing until his audience was seated.

After everyone had their drinks, Wolfe strode in, as if on cue. He nodded, settled behind the desk, and rang for beer. “Gentlemen, thank you for accepting our invitation. I realize both Mr. Goodwin and Mr. Panzer were, by intent, not forthcoming about their identities when you first encountered them at the bridge table in McCready’s. Before I begin talking, I invite each of you to ask as many questions as you wish to any of the three of us. I promise candor in our responses.”

Sid and Harvey looked at each other, and Sid began. “Needless to say, sir, we were surprised when Saul told us who he was and who Art — make that Archie — was. And we knew nothing about Ted’s real background until we also learned that from Saul. It has taken us awhile to digest all of this.” Harvey nodded his agreement.

“Your reactions are understandable,” Wolfe said as he took a drink from the first of two chilled beers Fritz had brought in. “And you now are aware that Theodore Horstmann, the man you know as Ted, is in my employ and currently lies in a coma at a local hospital.”

It was Harvey’s turn to speak. “Yes, and we also learned from Saul that he was viciously beaten. What is his prognosis?”

“It is uncertain,” Wolfe replied. “Both Theodore and your friend Chester were attacked, Chester fatally. Do either of you have any thoughts as to why these two were targeted. And by whom?”

“Chester was the gentlest of men, and although I can’t speak for Ted, he also seemed to be the nonviolent type,” Harvey said, turning to Sid. “What do you think?”

“Each of them seemed to be very bothered by the people around them at McCready’s. Or maybe suspicious is a more accurate word,” Sid said.

“What fueled their suspicion?” Wolfe asked.

“I am not sure about Ted’s reasons,” Sid said, “being that he has been very tight-lipped — friendly, but tight-lipped. Another thing about Ted: Whenever German was spoken by the DPs sitting at the bar, I got the feeling he could understand them.

“As for Chester, he has always been the most perceptive and sensitive of the three of us. And almost since we began playing bridge in that back room at McCready’s, he was the one who seemed to be the most attuned to his surroundings.”

“Be specific.”

Sid took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Chester was suspicious of the pool players. Now longshoremen can be rough customers to begin with, but he saw them, or at least some of them, as more than that. He told Harvey and me that he felt that these guys were acting suspicious. Oh, sure, they were derisive to us and thought that we were playing a ladies’ game, but that wasn’t what bothered Chester. He said they acted like they had something to hide.”

“Did he express any thoughts as to what that ‘something’ might be?”

“I can answer that,” Harvey said. “Chester told me one night that he figured it had something to do with displaced persons, or DPs, as they are called, and Sid here agreed with him.”

“What made him think that?” Wolfe asked.

“He — and the rest of us, for that matter — had begun to notice a shift in the type of people who came into McCready’s. There were still plenty of dockworkers, all right, but there also was a new group who seemed to be foreign from my perspective. They did not talk much in the bar, at least not out loud, although they did mutter very quietly to one another. And they definitely liked their beer.”

Wolfe dabbed his lips with a handkerchief. “How many were in this new group?”

It was Sid’s turn to respond. “At any one time, maybe about a half-dozen or so. But it wasn’t always the same half-dozen. They seemed to drift in and out.”

“To what degree did they interact with the longshoremen?”

“Hardly at all. If anything, the two groups seemed to ignore each other,” Sid replied.

“Back to the longshoremen. Do either of you know if they were employed at a specific dock?”

“I do, because I heard a couple of them talking in the back room while they were playing pool,” Harvey answered. “They were complaining and loudly, about their working conditions, and one of them said, ‘That’s typical of the type of straw bosses they hire at that damned National Export Lines. They act like prison guards the way they bark orders and strut.’ That got the other pool players nodding in agreement and adding to the grumbling. It seemed like all of them were working for National Export.”

“Do either of you see any reason why someone would have targeted Chester — or Theodore, for that matter?” Wolfe asked.

“For one thing, Chester seemed to be more conscious of the presence of the pool players than Sid or me,” Harvey said. “We both tried to ignore them and their conversations. But Chester was always looking over at the group. And on at least two occasions that I can recall, he made some snide remarks to Ted about them — remarks the longshoremen easily would have heard, and did, because they sent some dirty looks in our direction.”

“What makes you think that longshoremen were behind what befell both men?”

“I wouldn’t want to say that for sure,” Harvey answered, “but I can tell you this much: I am not setting foot in that saloon again — ever!”

“Same here,” Sid echoed.

Wolfe leaned back and drew in a bushel of air. “Do either of you know any displaced persons?”

Harvey shook his head but Sid jumped in. “I do, a second cousin, Hyman, and his wife. They’re from Holland and they fled the Germans, but they were thrown into prison like so many other Jews. Fortunately, they were able to survive until the Allies liberated them, although they weren’t treated very well by the Germans, and they still aren’t what I would call fully healthy.

“They came over here last year on that DP act of the president’s and are living over in Brooklyn now in a small flat,” Sid continued. “They are struggling but surviving, and those of us related to them have pitched in one way or another to give whatever help we can. It’s the very least we can do. Another cousin of mine was able to find Hyman a job in a kosher restaurant. He had been a cook — or as he likes to put it, a ‘chef’ — in Amsterdam before the war.”

“Millions of people have suffered greatly,” observed Wolfe, who himself was sending funds regularly to relatives of his own in Montenegro and other Balkan states. “The world is still far from recovering from the ravages of the war.” He turned to Sid and Harvey. “Gentlemen, do you have any other observations that might help us as we investigate the attacks on Chester and Theodore — the man you have referred to as Ted?”

They both shook their heads, and Harvey said, “Please continue to let us know about Ted’s condition.”

“We will,” Saul said. “I will make a point of keeping you both updated, with Mr. Wolfe’s approval, of course.”

Wolfe nodded but said nothing. He rose, walking out of the office without a backward look.

“I hope we didn’t say something to insult him,” Sid remarked.

“Oh no, not at all,” I reassured our visitors, both of whom seemed understandably puzzled by their host’s abrupt departure. “He wasn’t being rude, that is just his manner. Brevity is his middle name.”

“Well, we really should be going,” Harvey said. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

“We may want to reach you again,” I told them.

“I have their phone numbers,” Saul said. There were handshakes all around, and we saw the two subdued men to the front door. After they had gone, Saul and I stayed in the office for a time, nursing our drinks and playing gin rummy. It is not necessary to discuss the outcome of the game.