Trouble at the Brownstone

Chapter 5

In this case, it really was later the next day before I could fulfill Wolfe’s order. I tried all three of our regular freelance operatives in the morning, but I struck out in each case. Two of them, Saul and Orrie, didn’t answer their phones, and Fred’s wife told me he was out tailing someone.

But I had total success in the afternoon, and by 9 p.m. they all were seated in the office. Saul Panzer, all five-feet-seven, 140 pounds, was perched in the red leather chair at the end of Wolfe’s desk, befitting his status as the best human bloodhound on this side of the Atlantic Ocean. As usual, his mug, which is two-thirds nose, needed a shave, and also as usual, he came in wearing a battered flat cap and a sports coat that looked like it came off the rack at a secondhand shop.

In the yellow chairs facing Wolfe’s desk sat Fred Durkin and Orrie Cather. Fred, thick in the middle and thin on top, may not be as savvy as Saul, but he is dogged, loyal, and tough. And he is second only to Saul in his ability to hold a tail. I once asked him the secret to his surveillance skill, and he deadpanned, “I just go up to the subject and ask him where he’s headed, and then if I lose him, I know where to look.” I suppose he knew how funny that was, but with Fred, I never can be sure.

Orrie, tall, handsome, and aware of it, thinks he’s suave and in fact he has a good deal of success with the ladies — at least to hear him tell it. He also feels that he would be better at my job than I am, but he is not about to find out as long as I am upright and above ground. He is a good operative, but Saul and Fred happen to be better.

I refreshed our guests’ drinks — scotch for Saul and Orrie and beer for Fred, as Wolfe — fresh from a conversation in the kitchen with Fritz about tomorrow’s meals — walked into the office, nodded to each of the trio and thanked them for coming. He did not bother to thank me for rounding them up.

“Are any of you aware of Theodore’s situation?” Wolfe asked as Fritz entered with his and Fred’s beer. They all shook their heads, and their expressions indicated various degrees of puzzlement.

“As each of you may know, Theodore moved out of the brownstone some weeks ago and took an apartment in a building on Tenth Avenue, although he has continued to work for me on a regular schedule. On one night several days ago, he appeared at the door here in a state of collapse, having been savagely beaten. His only words before he lapsed into unconsciousness were, ‘There were two of them.’”

“I’d like to get my hands on the sons-of-bitches who did that!” Cather barked, rising halfway out of his chair.

“As would we all, Orrie,” Wolfe said, holding up a palm. “That is the purpose of this meeting.” He then proceeded to summarize all that had transpired regarding Theodore and his participation in the bridge games at McCready’s, as well as my report.

“Sounds like it was a simple mugging,” Fred put in.

“So one might be tempted to think,” Wolfe replied, “except that Theodore’s billfold was in his pocket, containing thirty-five dollars, and his watch, of which he was very proud, remained on his wrist. It is possible, however, that his assailants were scared off by a pedestrian or a passing automobile.”

“Who could have it in for Horstmann?” Saul posed. “I can’t say I know him very well, but he hardly seems like the sort to make enemies.”

“I believe we all can agree upon that, Saul,” Wolfe said. “But it seems highly possible that Theodore was singled out for the beating. Robbery does not appear to be the intent.”

Saul turned to me. “According to what one of those card players told you, Horstmann thought some of the longshoremen in the joint were ‘up to no good,’ right?”

“Yes, but that’s as much as he said. It’s not a lot to go on.”

“Dockworkers can be a pretty rough bunch, but as far as I know, and I get around quite a lot,” Saul said, “nothing questionable has been going on along the North River piers lately, and that’s where the guys who hang out in McCready’s would be working. After all, the bar’s just a short walk from the Hudson.”

Wolfe set his beer down and interlaced his hands over his middle mound. “Saul, you play bridge, don’t you?’

“Yeah, but as much as it pains me to say this, Archie is better — not at poker or gin rummy, mind you — but at bridge. It’s no contest.”

“I trust you to be adequate, however,” Wolfe said. “Those gentlemen who play at McCready’s know Archie now, and it would be difficult for him to extract any further information from them about Theodore without appearing overly inquisitive. You, however, can start with a clean slate by insinuating yourself into their game. Perhaps you will be able to learn more about Theodore’s behavior and his apparent suspicions about the customers in this public house. Tomorrow is Thursday, which means the threesome will presumably be seeking a fourth for a bridge game.”

“I will give it a shot,” Saul said.

Wolfe turned to Fred. “I would like you to sit at the bar in McCready’s tomorrow and absorb as much information as you can about the place. Do you feel you will be able to blend in?”

Fred grinned. “Like Saul says, I will give it a shot. I have never been paid to go drinking before.”

“Don’t get carried away with the assignment,” Wolfe said dryly, “and do not acknowledge Saul’s presence. Orrie, you will go to the residential building where Theodore has been living and find out anything you can about him from his neighbors. You can tell them he has disappeared and that you are a friend seeking information about his possible whereabouts. It is possible, although not likely, given Theodore’s taciturn nature, that he may have shared suspicions he had about people in McCready’s.”

“Sure, I can be a cousin or something like that,” Orrie said. “Do you want me to go through Theodore’s apartment, too?”

“Archie already has searched it, so there is no need for that at present. You should also make inquiries at establishments in that neighborhood — cleaners, restaurants, drugstores — to learn anything you can about his recent behavior.”

“I really should have a picture of him,” Orrie said.

“Of course. Archie, I believe we have photographs of Theodore in his file.”

“We do. I’ll pull one out,” I said.

“I remind each of you that Theodore has been calling himself ‘Ted’, at least to the card players,” Wolfe said. “That may well be the name he’s known by to anyone you talk to.”

“What’s Archie going to do?” Orrie asked. He has always been unduly interested in my roles in cases, probably thinking he could do a better job on any particular assignment than me.

“He will conduct reconnaissance on the Hudson River docks, an area he has some familiarity with.” Wolfe was referring, at least in part, to my first job on coming to New York, when I was hired as an armed guard to patrol one company’s docks because of concerns of thefts from ships moored there.

“Very well, gentlemen,” Wolfe said, “we will convene tomorrow night at nine and review your experiences. I caution you all to avoid mentioning the attack on Theodore. Act as if each of you is puzzled as to why he has disappeared.”

When Wolfe referenced my work as a guard on the docks, he was diplomatic enough not to bring up what an inauspicious start it was for me in New York. On patrol one night, I had spotted two thieves trying to board one of the ships. They shot at me and I returned fire, killing them both. I wasn’t charged, but I got fired from my job anyway.[2]

An upshot of that unfortunate experience on the Hudson pier was that I got to know a guy who had run a docking operation for years. In a case we worked on, where we found that whole shipments of Swiss watches and expensive clocks were disappearing, I met Charlie King of Cabot & Sons Importers, who managed the company’s crews on their pier. With the help of Saul Panzer’s savvy and Wolfe’s brain, we nailed two of the company’s sticky-fingered longshoremen, and King has been grateful ever since, as his own job had been on the line until those bad apples got smoked out.

The next afternoon, I found myself on the Cabot & Sons pier. King was at the desk in his cramped office going over a stack of paperwork as I stepped inside and cleared my throat.

“Well, as I live and breathe, it’s none other than Archie Goodwin, the boy detective, in person!” he said with a grin, standing and sticking out a hand. “What brings you to this humble corner of the mighty metropolis, shamus? Are you slumming?”

“It seems to me your so-called ‘humble corner’ is pretty pleasant on this summer day,” I replied. “A gentle breeze wafting off the great river and a cloudless sky. What more could a man want out of life?”

“Let me count the ways,” King shot back. “For starters, the Giants are at the Polo Grounds this fine afternoon, and I could be in a front-row box seat with a beer and a frank. How’s that for starters?”

“Point taken, Charlie. Still, you can’t call this a bad existence.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” he said with a grin. “Who am I to complain? But I’m guessing you didn’t come all the way out here to talk about the weather.”

“You’ve found me out. I’m wondering if you have heard about any funny business along the North River docks lately.”

“I haven’t, I’m happy to tell you, and I have damned good contacts up and down this stretch of the river. Oh, some months back there was a ruckus three piers south of here over a longshoreman who was caught rifling the coat pockets of other members of his crew in the locker room. He got sacked and that was that, though. Do you know something I don’t?”

“Not really. We’re looking into the disappearance of a man who had spent time in McCready’s bar over on Tenth Avenue.”

Charlie scowled. “I’m also happy to say that most of my crew here are family men and don’t hang out in that place. Some of the roughest customers working on the docks are regulars there, though. Is the guy who disappeared a dockworker?”

“No, just an ordinary joe who played cards at McCready’s,” I told him, avoiding any further detail.

“Well, if I hear anything suspicious, I will give you a call. I’ve still got your card somewhere in this messy desk, and I assume you’re still working with Nero Wolfe over on West Thirty-Fifth?”

“Yep, some things never change, Charlie. Hope you get to a Giants game soon. They’re looking pretty good this year.”

“Unfortunately, so are those damned Dodgers,” he said ruefully, turning back to his paperwork.