Trouble at the Brownstone

Chapter 22

The next several days dragged by. I am not used to sitting around doing nothing more than opening the mail and typing a few letters for Wolfe. I once told him that I am supposed to be a man of action to complement his man of brains, but now the most action I’m getting is standing and walking over to the three-drawer cabinet to enter the orchid germination records that Theodore’s temporary replacement, Carl Willis, brings down every afternoon. I had once told Wolfe “that if you keep a keg of dynamite around the house, you’ve got to expect some noise sooner or later. That’s what I am, a keg of dynamite.”

On the subject of Willis, I had no idea how he was getting along upstairs with the orchids, because he is as closed-mouthed as Horstmann. And when I have asked Wolfe how the new man is working out, he just grunts. Unfortunately, I have never learned to accurately translate his various grunts.

Speaking of Wolfe, he just entered the office after his morning session with the orchids and rang for beer. After going through the morning mail, which I had opened and stacked on his desk, he cleared his throat, which sometimes happens when he was prepared to speak.

“Archie, on some occasions in the past, you have accused me not keeping you apprised of my plans when we are working on a case.”

“On ‘some occasions’, you say? Make that ‘lots of occasions’!”

“As you wish,” he sighed. “I am about to bring you up-to-date.”

“Please do. I feel like my joints are getting rusty from lack of stimulation.”

“Because of your enforced inactivity, I have asked Saul to continue our investigation into the series of events triggered by the attack upon Theodore. He will be coming over sometime today to confer with you.”

“Swell. He can feel free to pick my brain. Nobody else is doing anything with it.”

Wolfe ignored that shot and picked up his latest book, Roosevelt and Hopkins, by Robert Sherwood. I returned to typing up his dictation from the day before, making sure to hit the keys extra hard, which always irritates him. For years he has offered to buy a noiseless typewriter, but — perhaps out of sheer perversity — I have insisted that I’m comfortable with the machine we have.

After lunch and after Wolfe had gone up to the plant rooms, Saul Panzer arrived and we settled down in the office, me at my desk and Saul in one of the yellow chairs. “Well, you look marginally better,” he observed.

“I’ll take marginally. I understand from Wolfe that you are going to be filling in for me on the street.”

“Hey, I’m not trying to horn in on your—”

“It’s okay,” I said, waving his comment aside. “I know damned well that for at least the next several days, I am not going to be out on the streets fighting the forces of evil. I am turning that task over to you.”

“Remind me to thank you for your confidence. Of course, I know some of what’s been going on, but for now, assume I’m coming into all of this fresh,” Saul said. “Don’t be afraid to tell me about any details — or people — you think I might already have knowledge of.”

“I probably don’t have to tell you this, but I will anyway: Keep a piece with you at all times. These people, whoever they may be, are not playing games.”

“Give me your thoughts about the characters you’ve run into.”

“I’ll start with Liam McCready, who runs the pub bearing that name.”

“I’ve seen him, but that’s all. We’ve never spoken.”

“He’s what I think of as the typical Irishman, and that’s how I think he sees himself, too: Hail-fellow-well-met, full of the blarney, convivial, colorful. Good qualities for a barkeep. Makes you feel welcome, whether or not he’s being sincere. Would I trust him? My vote is still out on that.

“Next is the super at the Elmont, a dismal and seedy-looking guy named Erwin Bauer, whose personality is the polar opposite of McCready’s. He’s not very forthcoming, to say the least. Maybe I’m being overly suspicious, but he seems like a man who is hiding something.

“Then there’s that Italian grocer across Tenth Avenue from the Elmont, who told Orrie, as you recall, that the building is a ‘very bad place, cattivo.’ You will also recall that when Orrie pressed the grocer, the guy clammed up. Maybe you can pry something more out of him. You have the finesse that Orrie lacks.”

“Maybe,” Saul said. “I wondered at the time why Orrie didn’t lean harder on the Italian.”

“I would also suggest you stop by and see my old friend Charlie King at the Cabot and Sons pier on the North River. See if he’s learned any more about the goings-on at the docks of his neighbor, the National Export Lines. It seems they could well be smuggling DPs.”

“I’ll check in with King, who I’ve met a few times over the years. Good guy. Think I should drop in at McCready’s? I’m not sure the owner will remember me from the couple of times I played bridge there. I could sit at the bar, have a drink or two, and see what I can sniff out.”

“I suppose it’s worth a try. I’ve got to wonder whether there’s a connection among National Export, McCready’s, and the Elmont involving DPs.”

“What does Wolfe think?” Saul asked.

“So far, he’s not sharing his thoughts on that connection with me, which is hardly unusual for him. He seems to like keeping me in the dark.”

“Right now, he’s probably worried about your physical condition,” Saul offered.

“I suppose that’s possible. Anything else that I can tell you?”

“Not that comes to mind, but as I nose around, I’m sure questions will arise. I suppose you won’t be joining us for poker on Thursday.”

“As much as it pains me to say, I’m going to sit this one out. I have a hard enough time trying to take money from you and Lon Cohen when I’m healthy. In the state I find myself at the moment, it would be child’s play for you two hustlers. And Durkin and Bill Gore and Bascom probably would pick my pocket as well.”

“Hustlers, indeed!” Saul snapped. “We all just play the cards that we are dealt.”

“I won’t argue the point. But by next week, I plan to be back, ready to take on all comers.”

“I’ll warn the others of your impending return. In the meantime, get plenty of rest and think good thoughts,” Saul said, rising to leave. “I will check in with you and your boss when I have something newsworthy to report.”

When Wolfe descended from his playtime with the orchids, I gave him a report on my visit to police headquarters and my meeting with Saul. “You have no doubt that this man Hartz was the one who was following you?”

“None whatever. As you know, I’m good with faces, and I had a brief but good look at him in profile, before I got clobbered by the guy who was behind him. Cramer says they’ve grilled Hartz for hours, but from what he told me, it seems like the thug has buttoned his yap tighter than a mafioso on the witness stand.”

Wolfe has never liked my analogies, if that’s what I just came out with. He has always felt that I play fast and loose with the English language, so I like to spit things out just to see the expressions on his face, and I got a dandy reaction this time. Hey, when a guy who likes action is stuck on the bench while the game is going on, he’s got to find ways to amuse himself.

“Saul says he’ll check in from time to time with developments, if and when there are any,” I told Wolfe. “If I may ask, what kind of instructions have you given him?”

Wolfe closed his eyes and paused several seconds before responding, so I knew that what was coming would be a lulu: “I told Saul,” he purred, pausing for effect, “that he was to act in the light of experience as guided by intelligence.”

He was of course tweaking yours truly with a phrase he had so often used on me when I questioned how I was to proceed on a case. I tried to think of a response, but none came to mind, so I did as I have in the past when holding lousy poker hands. I folded.

This frustrated keg of dynamite was on the verge of going off the next day when a call came from Saul Panzer at a little before 11 a.m. “I may have an opening of sorts,” he said. “I’m home now, but this morning, I paid a visit to that Italian grocer across Tenth Avenue from the Elmont, and as closed-mouthed as he is, I think I have found a way that he can be loosened up.”

“I hope you’re not planning to get rough with the poor guy.”

“Hey, you know me better than that, Archie; I am the gentlest of men. Turns out that our grocer — his name is Enzo Paolucci — is somewhat cash-strapped. My advice is that based on my conversation with him, he could be persuaded to open up if some greenbacks were to come his way. Mr. Wolfe may not want to do that, but I have a feeling Mr. Paolucci could, with the right stimulus, be persuaded to visit the brownstone and talk to your boss, who is a far better interviewer than I am.”

“What makes you think he would have anything interesting to say?”

“As I talked to him, I could sense with the right approach — and cash — he might talk about those people that he told Orrie were cattivo and ‘very bad.’”

“Hell, it’s worth a try. We aren’t getting anywhere as it is. I’ll toss it to Wolfe and see what he thinks.”

I waited until he descended from the plant rooms and had taken his first sip of beer before bringing Paolucci up. He leaned back and frowned.

“Is Saul where he can be reached?”

“Yes, he’s at home.”

“Get him.”

I dialed and he answered immediately. “Mr. Wolfe would like to talk to you,” I said, staying on the line.

“Good day, Saul. Archie tells me you sense Mr. Paolucci might be persuaded to share his feelings about those sometimes-secretive tenants of the Elmont who patronize his establishment.”

“Yes, sir. I know that Orrie didn’t get a lot out of him, and to be honest I wasn’t much more successful, but I did find out that Paolucci needs money, and I suggested to him, none too subtly, that some cash might just come his way if he shared his thoughts about his customers.”

“How much money do you think he is seeking?”

“I can’t say for sure, but I think a C-note might be enough to loosen his tongue.”

“Indeed. I suggest you pay another visit to Mr. Paolucci and determine if he would be willing to come here and allow himself to be questioned in return for a payment of one hundred dollars. I suspect you can be most persuasive when you put your mind to it without resorting to physical intimidation.”

“As I told Archie, I am a gentle soul. I try to persuade with words, rather than threats. And in this case, any words I might use would be backed by the promise of the coin of the realm.”

“I trust your persuasive powers,” Wolfe said, cradling his instrument.

“He’s off the line, but I’m still here,” I told Saul. “Do you think Paolucci will want the money up front?”

“I’ll go over to his place right now and find out. If I were to guess, and that’s all it is — a guess — I would say he’d like to see the greenbacks first. And I have a thought: What if you give me a crisp Ben Franklin, and I then hand it to Paolucci, but only when we are in a taxi on the way over to the brownstone?”

“I like your thinking. If you were to give the jack to him in his store, you might not be able to budge him out of the place.”

“We read each other like a book, Archie. You will hear from me soon.”