Too Many Cooks/Champagne for One (45 page)

“No. I have no lever to use on him. I only feel that he has been neglected. If you approach him again you too will be without a lever. Perhaps the best course would be to put him under surveillance.”

“If I postpone writing this check is that an instruction?”

“Yes.”

At least I would get out in the air and away from the miracle for a while. I returned the checkbook to the safe, took twenty tens from the expense drawer, told Wolfe he would see me when he saw me, and went to the hall for my coat and hat.

When starting to tail a man it is desirable to know where he is, so I was a little handicapped. For all I knew, Byne might be in Jersey City or Brooklyn, or
some other province, in a marathon poker game, or he might be at home in bed with a cold, or walking in the park. I got air by walking the two miles to Bowdoin Street, and at the corner of Bowdoin and Arbor I found a phone booth and dialed Byne’s number. No answer. So at least I knew where he wasn’t, and again I had to resist temptation. It is always a temptation to monkey with locks, and one of the best ways to test ears is to enter someone’s castle uninvited and, while you are looking here and there for something interesting, listen for footsteps on the stairs or the sound of an elevator. If you don’t hear them in time your hearing is defective, and you should try some other line of work when you are out and around again.

Having swallowed the tempation, I moved down the block to a place of business I had noticed Thursday afternoon, with an artistic sign bordered with sweet peas, I think, that said
AMY’S NOOK
. A
S
I entered, my wristwatch said 4:12. Between then and a quarter past six, slightly over two hours, I ate five pieces of pie, two rhubarb and one each of apple, green tomato, and chocolate, and drank four glasses of milk and two cups of coffee, while seated at a table by the front window, from which I could see the entrance to 87, across the street and up a few doors. To keep from arousing curiosity by either my tenure or my diet, I had my notebook and pencil out and made sketches of a cat sleeping on a chair. In the Village that accounts for anything. The pie, incidentally, was more than satisfactory. I would have liked to take a piece home to Fritz. At six-fifteen the light outside was getting dim, and I asked for my check and was putting my notebook in a pocket when a taxi drew up in front of 87 and Dinky Byne piled out and headed for the entrance.

When my change came I added a quarter to the tip, saying, “For the cat,” and vacated.

It was nothing like as comfortable in the doorway across from 87, the one I had patronized Thursday, but you have to be closer at night than in the daytime, no matter how good your eyes are. I could only hope that Dinky wasn’t set to spend the evening curled up with a book, or even without one, but that didn’t seem likely, since he would have to eat and I doubted if he did his own cooking. A light had shown at the fifth-floor windows, and that gave me something to do, bend my head back every half-minute or so to see if it had gone out. My neck was beginning to feel the strain when it finally did go out, at 7:02. In a couple of minutes the subject stepped out of the vestibule and turned right.

Tailing a man solo in Manhattan, even if he isn’t wise, is a joke. If he suddenly decides to flag a taxi—There are a hundred ifs, and they are all on his side. But of course any game is more fun if the odds are against you, and if you win it’s good for the ego. Naturally it’s easier at night, especially if the subject knows you. On that occasion I claim no credit for keeping on Byne, for none of the ifs developed. It was merely a ten-minute walk. He turned left on Arbor, crossed Seventh Avenue, went three blocks west and one uptown, and entered a door where there was a sign on the window:
TOM’S JOINT
.

That’s the sort of situation where being known to the subject cramps you; I couldn’t go in. All I could do was hunt a post, and I found a perfect one: a narrow passage between two buildings almost directly across the street. I could go in a good ten feet from the building line, where no light came at all, and still see the
front of Tom’s Joint. There was even an iron thing to sit on if my feet needed a rest.

They didn’t. I didn’t last long enough. I hadn’t been there more than five minutes when suddenly company came. I was alone, and then I wasn’t. A man had slid in, caught sight of me, and was peering in the darkness. A question that had arisen on various occasions, which of us had better eyesight, was settled when we spoke simultaneously. He said, “Archie” and I said, “Saul.”

“What the hell,” I said.

“Are you on her too?” he asked. “You might have told me.”

“I’m on a man. I’ll be damned. Where is yours?”

“Across the street. Tom’s Joint. She just came.”

“This is fate,” I said. “It is also a break in a thousand. Of course, it could be coincidence. Mr. Wolfe says that in a world that operates largely at random, coincidences are to be expected, but not this one. Have you spoken with her? Does she know you?”

“No.”

“My man knows me. His name is Austin Byne. He is six feet one, hundred and seventy pounds, lanky, loose-jointed, early thirties, brown hair and eyes, skin tight on his bones. Go in and take a look. If you want to bet, one will get you ten that they’re together.”

“I never bet against fate,” he said, and went. The five minutes that he was gone were five hours. I sat down on the iron thing and got up again three times, or maybe four.

He came, and said, “They’re together in a booth in a rear corner. No one is with them. He’s eating oysters.”

“He’ll soon be eating crow. What do you want for Christmas?”

“I have always wanted your autograph.”

“You’ll get it. I’ll tattoo it on you. Now we have a problem. She’s yours and he’s mine. Now they’re together. Who’s in command?”

“That’s easy, Archie. Mr. Wolfe.”

“I suppose so, damn it. We could wrap it up by midnight. Take them to a basement, I know one, and peel their hides off. If he’s eating oysters there’s plenty of time to phone. You or me?”

“You. I’ll stick here.”

“Where’s Orrie?”

“Lost. When she came out he was for feet and I was for wheels, and she took a taxi.”

“I saw it pull up. Okay. Sit down and make yourself at home.”

At the bar and grill at the corner the phone booth was occupied and I had to wait, and I was tired of waiting, having done too much of it in the last four days. But in a few minutes the customer emerged, and I entered, pulled the door shut, and dialed the number I knew best. When Fritz answered I told him I wanted to speak to Mr. Wolfe.

“But, Archie! He’s at dinner!”

“I know. Tell him it’s urgent.” That was another unexpected pleasure, having a good excuse to call Wolfe from the table. He has too many rules. His voice came, or rather his roar.

“Well?”

“I have a report. Saul and I are having an argument. He thought—”

“What the devil are you doing with Saul?”

“I’m telling you. He thought I should phone you.

We have a problem of protocol. I tailed Byne to a restaurant, a joint, and Saul tailed Mrs. Usher to the same restaurant, and our two subjects are in there together in a booth. Byne is eating oysters. So the question is, who is in charge, Saul or me? The only way to settle it without violence was to call you.”

“At meal time,” he said. I didn’t retort, knowing that his complaint was not that I had presumed to interrupt, but that his two bright ideas had picked that moment to rendezvous.

I said sympathetically, “They should have known better.”

“Is anyone with them?” he asked.

“No.”

“Do they know they have been seen?”

“No.”

“Could you eavesdrop?”

“Possibly, but I doubt it.”

“Very well, bring them. There’s no hurry, since I have just started dinner. Give them no opportunity for a private exchange after they see you. Have you eaten?”

“I’m full of pie and milk. I don’t know about Saul. I’ll ask him.”

“Do so. He could come and eat— No. You may need him.”

I hung up, returned to our field headquarters, and told Saul, “He wants them. Naturally. In an hour will do, since he just started dinner. Do you know what a genius is? A genius is a guy who makes things happen without his having any idea that they are going to happen. It’s quite a trick. Our genius wanted to know if you’ve had anything to eat.”

“He would. Sure. Plenty.”

“Okay. Now the m.o. Do we take them in there or wait till they come out?”

Both procedures had pros and cons, and after discussion it was decided that Saul should go in and see how their meal was coming along, and when he thought they had swallowed enough to hold them through the hours ahead, or when they showed signs of adjourning, he would come out and wigwag me, go back in, and be near their booth when I approached.

They must have been fast eaters, for Saul hadn’t been gone more than ten minutes when he came out, lifted a hand, saw me move, and went back in. I crossed over, entered, took five seconds to adjust to the noise and the smoke screen from the mob, made it to the rear, and there they were. The first Byne knew, someone was crowding him on the narrow seat, and his head jerked around. He started to say something, saw who it was, and goggled at me.

“Hi, Dinky,” I said. “Excuse me for butting in, but I want to introduce a friend. Mr. Panzer. Saul, Mrs. Usher. Mr. Byne. Sit down. Would you mind giving him room, Mrs. Usher?”

Byne had started to rise, by reflex, but it can’t be done in a tight little booth without toppling the table. He sank back. His mouth opened, and closed. Liquid spilled on the table top from a glass Elaine Usher was holding, and Saul, squeezed in beside her, reached and took it.

“Let me out,” Byne said. “Let us out or I’ll go out over you. Her name is Upson. Edith Upson.”

I shook my head. “If you start a row you’ll only make it worse. Mr. Panzer knows Mrs. Usher, though she doesn’t know him. Let’s be calm and consider the situation. There must be—”

“What do you want?”

“I’m trying to tell you. There must be some good reason why you two arranged to meet in this out-of-the-way dump, and Mr. Panzer and I are curious to know what it is, and others will be too—the press, the public, the police, the District Attorney, and Nero Wolfe. I wouldn’t expect you to explain it here in this din and smog. Either Mr. Panzer can phone Inspector Cramer while I sit and chat with you, and he can send a car for you, or we’ll take you to talk it over with Mr. Wolfe, whichever you prefer.”

He had recovered some. He had played a lot of poker. He put a hand on my arm. “Look, Archie, there’s nothing to it. It looks funny, sure it does, us here together, but we didn’t arrange it. I met Mrs. Usher about a year ago, I went to see her when her daughter went to Grantham House, and when I came in here this evening and saw her, after what’s happened, naturally I spoke to her and we—”

“Save it, Dinky. Saul, phone Cramer.”

Saul started to slide out. Byne reached and grabbed his sleeve. “Now wait a minute. Damn it, can’t you listen? I’m—”

“No,” I said. “No listening. You can have one minute to decide.” I looked at my watch. “In one minute either you and Mrs. Usher come along to Nero Wolfe or we phone Cramer. One minute.” I looked at my watch. “Go.”

“Not the cops,” Mrs. Usher said. “My God, not the cops.”

Byne began, “If you’d only listen—”

“No. Forty seconds.”

If you’re playing stud, and there’s only one card to come, and the man across has two jacks showing and
all you have is a mess, it doesn’t matter what his hole card is, or yours either. Byne didn’t use up the forty seconds. Only ten of them had gone when he stretched his neck to look for a waiter and ask for his check.

Surveying Elaine Usher from my desk as she sat in the red leather chair, I told myself that Saul’s picture of her, pieced together from a dozen descriptions he had got, had been pretty accurate. Oval face, blue eyes set close, good skin, medium-cut blonde hair, around forty. I would have said a hundred and fifteen pounds instead of a hundred and twenty, but she might have lost a few in the last four days. I had put her in the red leather chair because I had thought it desirable to have Byne closer to me. He was between Saul and me, and Saul was between the two subjects. But my arrangement was soon changed.

“I prefer,” Wolfe said, “to speak with you separately, but first I must make sure that there is no misunderstanding. I intend to badger you, but you don’t have to submit to it. Before I start, or at any moment, you may get up and leave. If you do, you will be through with me; thenceforth you will deal with the police. I make that clear because I don’t want you bouncing up and down. If you want to go now, go.”

He took a deep breath. He had just come in from
the dining room, having had his coffee there while I reported on the summit conference at Tom’s Joint.

“We were forced to come here by a threat,” Byne said.

“Certainly you were. And I am detaining you by the same threat. When you prefer that to this, leave. Now, madam, I wish to speak privately with Mr. Byne. Saul, take Mrs. Usher to the front room.”

“Don’t go,” Byne told her. “Stay here.”

Wolfe turned to me. “You were right, Archie. He is incorrigible. It isn’t worth it. Get Mr. Cramer.”

“No,” Elaine Usher said. She left the chair. “I’ll go.”

Saul was up. “This way,” he said, and went and opened the door to the front room and held it for her. When she had passed through he followed and closed the door.

Wolfe leveled his eyes at Byne. “Now, sir. Don’t bother to raise your voice; that wall and door are sound-proofed. Mr. Goodwin has told me how you explained being in that restaurant with Mrs. Usher. Do you expect me to accept it?”

“No,” Dinky said.

Of course. He had had time to realize that it wouldn’t do. If he had gone to see her because her daughter was at Grantham House, how had he learned that she was Faith’s mother? Not from the records and not from Mrs. Irwin. From one of the other girls? It was too tricky.

“What do you substitute for it?” Wolfe asked.

“I told Goodwin that because the real explanation would have been embarrassing for Mrs. Usher. Now I can’t help it. I met her some time ago, three years ago, and for about a year I was intimate with her.