The Misadventures of Nero Wolfe

by Josh Pachter

  “Yes.”

  I could understand Julius strongly suspecting Billy Quinn. It made sense for Beecher to arrange for the murder of his father-in-law so he could pay Quinn what he owed him, and further for Quinn to send the bomb so he could keep Julius from messing things up for him. But how could Julius know this definitively? So far I hadn’t found a single piece of evidence tying Quinn to any of it. Julius had to have something I didn’t, and it had to be related to the task he’d put Tom Durkin on. I wanted to ask Julius again about Tom’s assignment, but I didn’t want to interrupt the staring contest he was engaged in with his sister. Finally the contest ended, as Julia picked up her fork and began eating with more of an appetite than she had shown earlier.

  “This is very good,” she said approvingly. “If you ever quit the private-eye business and open up a restaurant, you’ll do very well. Of course, you must know that I came here to avenge your death, but this is much nicer.” A twinkle sparkled in her eyes, and she smiled mischievously. “If I had known that all it would take for us to be able to sit together for fifteen minutes without you lecturing me about my profession was for a bomb to blow up your town house, I would’ve arranged for one years ago. I’ve missed you, Julius. Twelve years has been too long for us to be angry with each other.”

  Julius’s expression grew subdued. “I was never angry with you,” he said. “I promised our parents I’d look out for you, and then you went and chose the most dangerous line of work possible. Of course I was going to do what I could to dissuade you. But I accept that you’re more stubborn than I am, and I don’t want another twelve years to go by without seeing you, so I will keep my worrying to myself in the future. But my offer for you to join my detective business as a full partner stands.”

  “I don’t know, Julius. Being a private eye in Boston might be too dangerous for me. From what I can tell, people try to blow you up.” Her smile faded. “I know you wanted to see me, but I know there’s also something you want from me.”

  Julius nodded. “There is something. Can you get me the same gun that you used three years ago in that alley behind the Spatenhof beer hall in Berlin?” he said.

  “My dear brother, you’ve always been able to amaze me. How did you know about that?”

  “It was an educated guess.”

  She gave his request a moment’s thought before nodding, and as she did this I searched like crazy to find the incident Julius was referring to. “Expect it within twenty-four hours.” A deadly seriousness glinted in her eyes. “Now you need to tell me how I was compromised.”

  “You weren’t. My assistant, Archie, was looking for women your age booking last-minute flights out of Europe to either New York or Boston. As good and thorough as Archie is, it was a lucky guess that you were on that plane. You’re safe.”

  This was a bit of a subterfuge on Julius’s part, but he probably didn’t want to explain how I had been able to hack into the Romanian airport’s surveillance video so that I could identify her. While I don’t think she bought Julius’s story, she accepted that her cover hadn’t been compromised, and after she finished her breakfast, she told Julius she’d be back later with what he’d asked for.

  It turned out Julia was back within twenty-three hours, and she handed him what looked like a standard .38-caliber pistol. By this time I had found the East Berlin incident Julius had referenced, so I knew what the gun really was.

  “This will change you, Julius,” she said. “Are you sure you really want it?”

  “Everything I own was blown up because of this individual. My wine collection. My photographs.” He removed from his wallet the laminated picture of Julia and showed it to her. “This is all I have left of our family,” he said. The muscles alongside Julius’s mouth tightened severely and a hardness settled over his eyes. “I would’ve died if I hadn’t received that phone call. You haven’t met her yet, but my girlfriend Lily is a beautiful and sweet woman, and she could’ve been at my home that day. She could’ve also died because of this person. Yes, for that reason alone, I want this.”

  Julia nodded. An odd look formed over her face, and it wasn’t until hours later when I was able to match it to a photo from an online movie database that I understood what it was. Deep, profound sadness. She embraced Julius, and then left.

  An hour later, Tom called to report success on his assignment, and this time Julius didn’t turn me off, so I was able to hear Tom tell him that the subject was located in England. “I have an address in Buckinghamshire,” Tom said. “Six hundred thousand was transferred to a Swiss bank account, and I’ve got a paper trail tying all of it to the person you told me would be behind it.”

  “I could make guesses about Tom’s cryptic message,” I told Julius, after he got off the phone. “But it would be a whole lot easier to fill in the holes if you would tell me who was found in England and what’s the story behind the Swiss bank account. Or even if you would tell what Tom’s assignment was.”

  A pained look pinched Julius’s face. “I’m sorry, Archie,” he said. “But it’s better if I don’t. I believe you’ll understand why soon enough. For now, please get Detective Cramer on the phone.”

  I did what Julius asked, and when I told Cramer that I was putting Julius on the line, the man made a noise as if he had just snorted coffee—or whatever beverage he’d been drinking—out his nose. When the homicide detective sounded less flustered, Julius told him that he could identify Allen Luther’s murderer, in case Cramer was still searching for the killer. Of course, Julius had conditions he needed Cramer to agree to, and, once Cramer accepted that Julius wasn’t responsible for blowing up his own townhouse as part of some stunt, he did agree to what Julius asked for.

  Assembled in the same office where Allen Luther was murdered were Detective Cramer, Willie Cather, a small mob of uniformed cops, and four of the suspects: Michael Beecher, Sheila Fenn, Arnold Murz, and Allison Harper. The fifth suspect—the mysterious deliveryman—wasn’t there because his body had been fished out earlier from the Boston Harbor, and maybe that was why Michael Beecher looked more smug than scared. Julius had the office arranged so that he sat behind Luther’s desk, although in a different chair than the one Luther had been sitting in when his head was bashed in. The four suspects sat in a row in front of him, the mob of uniformed cops stood a few feet behind them, and Cramer and Willie Cather sat off to the side. When Willie first entered the room and saw that Julius was alive, he rushed over and, with a big grin breaking over his face, exclaimed, “Ah, hell, Julius, I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you. I had an awful couple of days thinking that bomb got you.”

  Julius took the hand Willie offered. “Thank you, Willie,” he said, a genuine smile cutting through the moroseness he’d sunk into earlier. “I appreciate the sentiment. When we’re done here today, I’d like to talk to you about a job I think you’d be well suited for.”

  “Of course, Julius. Anything at all I can do for you.”

  After that, Julius took his seat and we waited for a police officer to bring in the lone witness to the murder. When Brutus plodded into the room and plopped onto the floor next to Julius, I finally understood Tom’s earlier cryptic message. All of it made sense—what Tom’s mission must have been, the instructions Julius gave me during our trip to Luther’s dog-food headquarters, and why Julius had wanted that gun.

  “I hate to say this,” I told Julius, “but I can’t blame you for turning me off the other day. I might very well have screwed this up for you if I’d known what you were having Tom look into.”

  Julius nodded slightly for my benefit before addressing the crowd. “Normally I would’ve arranged for this meeting to take place in my own office,” he said. “But since one of you turned my home into charred rubble, this office will have to suffice.”

  The heavily-in-debt son-in-law, Michael Beecher, rose from his chair, objecting vociferously. “You have no right making that kind of accusati
on, Katz!” He turned a look that was both smug and wounded to his fellow suspects before glaring back at Julius. “The police have already cleared us of my father-in-law’s murder! They know the killer was disguised as a deliveryman!”

  Julius raised a hand to stop him. “This has been a trying few days,” he said. “Please refrain from spouting off any further inanities. The police haven’t cleared any of you of anything, as I’ll be explaining soon.”

  One of Cambridge’s finest stepped forward and placed a hand on Beecher’s shoulder. He suggested to Beecher in a gruff voice that he sit back down. The son-in-law’s expression shifted from a mix of wounded and smug to startled, and, probably due to the pressure the cop applied to his shoulder, he took his seat again. Julius waited until he was sure Beecher would stay seated before continuing.

  “As all of you are aware, Allen Luther hired me to investigate his death in the event that he was murdered. This happened three months ago. He had suspicions then, and I tried to convince him to hire me instead to find out if anyone was trying to harm him, but he was a stubborn man, and so here we are today.”

  Cramer made an involuntary snorting noise, his face mottled with anger as he glared at Julius. Julius shrugged apologetically. “It wouldn’t have helped for you to know that,” he said to Cramer. “His suspicions were all dead ends.” Julius turned back to the suspects. “When I read the newspaper reports regarding Allen’s murder, there were details that I found interesting, but since my arrangement with Allen required me to wait a week after his murder before becoming involved, so that I wouldn’t unintentionally interfere with the police, my hands were tied. Then, after that week had passed and I was about to formally begin my investigation, my home was bombed.”

  I wanted to tell Julius that was utter hogwash. We both knew the reason he wanted the police to have a week was that he was hoping they’d solve the murder so he wouldn’t have to do any work. And about Julius so earnestly wanting to start his investigation: outside of his one phone call to Tom, he had spent that morning browsing issues of Wine Spectator. But I didn’t say anything. I was too interested in the way Julius had fixed his stare on one of the suspects.

  He continued to stare as he said, “The explosion at my townhouse provided one small advantage. It allowed me a unique path to solve Allen Luther’s murder. Instead of focusing on the details of the murder, which had so far left the police baffled, I could investigate the source of the bomb—either approach would lead me to the murderer. Of course, for my own personal reasons I wanted to focus on the bomb, but, since I’m a professional and was still under Allen Luther’s employ—or at least his estate’s employ—I felt a sense of obligation to limit my investigation to the murder.”

  It was over then. Julius’s gambit paid off. Even though it only lasted for a fraction of a second, a crush of disappointment ruined the killer’s face, and that was as good as a confession. I don’t know if the other suspects noticed it, but Julius did. So did Cramer. Maybe even Willie Cather. Since Julius had to have already known who the killer was, given the way he had stared at this person, I suspected that his gambit was employed simply to mollify Cramer for not having earlier told the homicide detective about Luther’s suspicions. In any case, Julius looked away from the killer to ask Cramer whether it was true Brutus had been found in the office restrained by his leash.

  “Yeah,” Cramer murmured as he stared hotly at the killer.

  “And the leash was attached to the coat hook over there?”

  Cramer nodded, too busy glaring at the killer to look where Julius had pointed.

  “And the only blood found at the crime scene belonged to the victim?”

  “Yeah.”

  “This was one of the items reported in the newspapers that I found interesting,” Julius said. “If a hit man disguised as a deliveryman came into the office, it’s impossible to think that he would’ve been able to slip a leash around Brutus’s neck without Brutus drawing blood, especially given how agitated Allen Luther would’ve been. Even if this mysterious hit man held a gun on Allen to keep him quiet, dogs are highly tuned to their owners’ emotions, and Brutus would’ve picked up Allen’s anger and fear. No, if a stranger had come into the room, his blood would also have been found on the carpet.”

  “But a fake deliveryman did come here,” Beecher insisted. “He had Allison sign for an empty package, and then he snuck into my father-in-law’s office and bludgeoned him to death!”

  Julius ignored Beecher’s outburst and asked Allison Harper whose job it was to take Brutus for walks during office hours.

  “Mr. Luther often took him.”

  “But when he was busy, you’d often take him, isn’t that correct?”

  She didn’t want to nod, but she did. It was as if she didn’t have any control over the action.

  “Weren’t a stack of dog-food cans usually kept over there?” Julius said, indicating a shelf directly behind where he was sitting. This was asked rhetorically, since he’d seen a picture in the newspaper showing the murder scene with the stack of dog-food cans.

  She nodded. I don’t think she was capable of speech at that moment.

  “I’m guessing dog treats were also kept on the shelf,” Julius said. “Needing to retrieve some of them is what gave you the excuse to get behind Allen without alarming him.”

  “That’s not what happened,” she said in an oddly eerie voice, as if she were in a trance. “A deliveryman came here and killed Mr. Luther.”

  “No, Ms. Harper, there was no deliveryman. The only reason the police believed there was a deliveryman is that you made them believe it.”

  “The elevator recorded a deliveryman came here.”

  “No, the only thing recorded was that you pressed a button which would’ve allowed access to this floor. But there was no one in the elevator at the time. And you were the one who brought the empty package here. ”

  Her voice cracked as she asked, “Why would I want to kill Mr. Luther?”

  “Because you blamed him for your father’s death, Ms. Pike.”

  Her mouth gaped open. “I’m not Melissa Pike,” she said in a whisper. “She died in a car accident.”

  She must’ve realized how badly she’d screwed up right away, as there would’ve been no reason for Allison Harper to know about Thomas Pike’s daughter, but she was too rattled to stop herself.

  “Clearly you weren’t in the car,” Julius said. “The body found in the car was burnt beyond recognition, and I’m guessing another young woman stole your car and pocketbook, and it was she who died. The reason you assumed a new identity was that you saw a way of avenging your father, even if you didn’t fully understand it at the time. But we’ll know for sure, soon enough. Right now, my assistant Archie is tracking down a photo of Melissa Pike, and he’ll be sending it to me shortly.”

  I took the hint and started searching for it. “Bingo,” I told Julius, fifteen seconds later. “It wasn’t easy finding this. The newspapers didn’t publish a photo of her, and the New York police didn’t have one in their files, but I got this from her high-school yearbook. As you can see, she used to be a blonde, but even with her hair colored dark brown it’s easy to see it’s the same person.”

  Melissa Pike’s face had been a wreck during the fifteen seconds while I searched for her photo, but when Julius turned his smartphone around to show her the picture, she jumped out of her chair, her face rigid with rage.

  “My dad never embezzled anything!” she screamed. “He borrowed ten thousand dollars so we wouldn’t lose our house, but he was going to pay it back! That man ruined my dad, and he deserved to die!”

  She had her right hand raised like a cat’s claw, and maybe she planned to attack Julius, but before she could move a step farther, two of the cops grabbed her and cuffed her. After she was taken out of the office, Cramer told Julius he had enough for now, and, after what Julius had been through with his
townhouse, they could talk later when it was more convenient.

  “He’s getting awfully magnanimous in his old age,” I said.

  That almost got a smile from Julius, but he was able to keep it suppressed, and he nodded thanks. Cramer, before leaving, scowled at Brutus and said, “I wish that mutt would’ve reacted toward Luther’s killer like we thought he would, but it doesn’t matter, we got our murderer.”

  Willie Cather hung around and caught Julius on his way out. “I’ve been kicked to the curb,” he said with a hard smile. “That peach of a son-in-law informed me a few minutes ago that my services are no longer required, so any job you got could help a lot right now.”

  “I do have one,” Julius said. “I’d like to tie that wretch to the bomb sent to my home, and I don’t have the enthusiasm to look into it myself.” Julius glanced at his watch. “I need to take a cab. Perhaps we can talk while I try to hail one?”

  “I’m parked in a garage a block away. I can give you a ride.”

  “Thank you, Willie. That would be a help.”

  While they walked, Julius explained how the bomb had been brought into his home, and that the man who had delivered it had recently been fished out of the Boston Harbor. They entered an underground garage, and twenty seconds later I signaled Julius that he was safely out of range of any surveillance cameras, as he had previously instructed me.

  “It’s too bad you weren’t in Allen Luther’s office to hear Detective Cramer wondering why Brutus didn’t react to his owner’s killer,” Julius said. “If you had been, you could’ve explained the reason. That his witness was an imposter.”

  Cather turned to see Julius pointing a .38 at him. A sickly smile took over his face as he looked on helplessly.

  “It’s over, Willie,” Julius said. “The imposter bulldog you found looks superficially like Brutus, but even an untrained eye like mine could spot the differences. But that doesn’t matter. I have a statement from the man in Buckinghamshire you sold him to, and I’ve got a paper trail tracing the shipment of the fake Brutus back to you. With a court order, I’ll be able to link you to the Swiss bank account holding the six hundred thousand dollars the man paid.” Julius breathed in deeply and let out a tired sigh. “I spent a good part of a night struggling over what I’d do when I got you in this situation, but I’ve decided I’m not a murderer, so I will let the police take you.”