Fred Durkin is a big guy, thick at the waist, thick at the neck, and maybe a little thick upstairs, too, although he’s almost as good as Saul at tailing, and he’s as honest and loyal as you’ll ever find. But as I had told Wolfe, Fred wasn’t getting much work these days. Fortunately, his wife, Fanny, had a job at a branch library someplace out on Long Island, so at least a little money was coming in.
But I’ve gotten a bit ahead of myself, so I’ll back up to yesterday afternoon. The moment Wolfe and Alexandra went up to the plant rooms, I was on the phone. I got Saul on the first try, which surprised me, and when I told him Wolfe wanted to see him, he said: “The Stevens thing; I’ll be there.” That’s Saul. Fred was home too, and from the tone of his voice, I knew he’d crawl across Manhattan for a job, especially with Wolfe. He’d be there too. Next came a call to Lily. I landed that dinner invitation, all right, for both Milner and me, so his short stay as our houseguest was over, and I could have back the clothes of mine that he’d been wearing for the last day or so, and which were about two sizes too large for him. Actually, he hadn’t been much of an imposition to us, as he’d almost never come out of the South Room, which may be a tribute to the high quality of the books on the shelves up there.
As he and I rode to Lily’s in a cab, Milner was quiet but didn’t seem terribly worried, or terribly curious about our progress, for that matter. When I asked why, he said, “I didn’t do it, and I know Mr. Wolfe’s reputation. I’m just thankful he’s working on this, because I know he’ll find the right one.” I wish I were that confident, I thought, slouching in the seat and staring out at the snowflakes swirling in the wind.
Maria was still staying at Lily’s, and she seemed brightened by Milner’s appearance, although she was preoccupied with plans for a memorial service for her uncle, which was set for Monday. She brightened further when I told her Alexandra Adjari was in town and would be calling her either that night or the next morning. As it turned out, Alexandra went one better, stopping off at Lily’s about ten-thirty on her way from the brownstone to her hotel, and the two had a tears-and-hugs reunion right there in the living room. It ended up with Alexandra insisting that Maria stay with her at the Churchill, which meant Lily was losing her houseguest, too. The two women and Milner left in a cab — he had decided to go back to his apartment in Queens — and all of a sudden, Lily and I had her palace to ourselves. That’s a whole story in itself, and not for these pages, but now you’re up-to-date on Friday night’s developments.
When Fritz brought Wolfe’s beer, he took orders from the rest of us: coffee for Saul and me, and beer for Fred, who doesn’t like it that much but thinks he should drink it when he’s with Wolfe, to be sociable. After everyone was served, Wolfe’s eyes moved from Saul to Fred and back again. We were all a touch uneasy, I think, as it was the first time we’d been together in this room since Orrie had blown himself up on the front stoop. In the past, Saul, Fred, and Orrie had almost always come as a group for instructions, and the empty yellow chair was on all our minds.
Wolfe set his glass down and began: “You both read the papers regularly, so you no doubt know I’m involved in a case.” They nodded. “You also know then that Milos Stefanovic, or Milan Stevens as he called himself, was a Montenegrin whom I had known many years ago in Europe. In addition, the papers have reported, correctly, that I do not believe Stefanovic was killed by Gerald Milner.” Wolfe proceeded to fill them in on the last few days’ activities, asking me several times to insert first-person narrative, such as when I went into the Stevens library and saw the body. When he had finished, he poured more beer and watched the foam settle. “Before the weekend is over,” he said, “I hope to talk to Messrs. Meyerhoff, Hirsch, and Sommers of the Symphony, if Archie can get them here. Archie also is going to visit Mrs. Forrester-Moore at her home — she was a frequent companion of Mr. Stevens’s in the last few months.” I glared at Wolfe, who ignored me and went on.
“Saul, go to the building where Stevens lived. Find some pretense to get inside. I’d like to know how many entrances there are, and how easy it would be to enter and leave without being seen by the hallman. Is there a fire escape? A back stairway? A service elevator?” I smiled and bit my lip. Wolfe was out of practice, because these were questions Saul would answer without being asked. If I knew him, he’d bring back a blueprint of the whole place, complete with heating ducts and wiring.
Wolfe shifted his glance. “Fred, learn what you can about the hallman who was on duty that night, his name is—” He turned to me. “Tom Hubbard,” I said. “Find out what you can about Mr. Hubbard and his habits, but don’t talk to him, at least not yet. The police have surely questioned him thoroughly, and he’ll be on his guard.”
As Wolfe talked, Fred was scribbling in a pocket notebook, unlike Saul, who never takes any notes but keeps everything filed away upstairs. When Wolfe had finished with his briefing, the two of them got up, businesslike as usual, and shook hands again with him. It was almost like old times as I walked to the front hall with them.
“Write when you have time, even if it’s only a postcard,” I said as they started out the door.
“Good luck with the society doll,” Saul retorted, winking. “Understand she’s quite a babe. Can you handle it?” I silently mouthed a word and slammed the door behind them.
Back in the office, Wolfe had picked up a book, In Praise of English, by Joseph T. Shipley. I sat at my desk and swiveled to face him. “Thanks so much for filling me in on my assignments,” I said. “I always appreciate getting orders in front of company.”
Wolfe put down the book and raised his eyebrows. “Indeed? Fred and Saul company? You’re the one who once said they’re part of the family, and I agree. Further, I hadn’t decided who was going to do what until you were all sitting here.”
“Hah! Who else but me would you send to see an attractive woman?”
He didn’t reply, and I couldn’t see his expression because the open book was in the way. After about five minutes, I exhaled loudly and deeply. “Okay, what do you want done first, Lucinda or the three from the Symphony?”
“Try to see the lady as soon as possible,” came the voice from behind the book. “As for the others, tomorrow afternoon will be soon enough. Mr. Remmers can be of some help there.”
“Any special instructions regarding the woman with the hyphenated name?” I asked.
“Use your intelligence guided by experience,” Wolfe said, still behind the book. It was a favorite line of his.
“Consider it done,” I said, getting up to go to the kitchen for a glass of milk. I was afraid that if I stayed in the same room with him for another thirty seconds, I might do something natural, such as braining him with his ebony paperweight.
15
I considered calling first, but decided my chances of seeing her might be better if I just showed up. I put on my best suit, a gray glen plaid, along with a light blue shirt and a blue-and-red paisley tie that Lily says makes me look debonair. Not bad, I told the mirror before giving my hair one more swipe with a brush. It was two-twenty when I grabbed my coat from the hall rack. Wolfe was back at his desk, reading. During lunch, I hadn’t been very talkative, partly because I was still sore at him and partly because I was thinking about how to approach one of the town’s reigning social lionesses.