Noreen’s voice strengthened. That was good. Wolfe probably was shaking in his brown wing-tips, worried she might burst into tears.
“I didn’t see him again—not ever. He phoned three or four times, and I hung up when I heard his voice. He called Polly at least twice and asked her to get me to the phone, but when she told me who it was, I wouldn’t talk to him.”
“Did you tell Miss Mars what had transpired?”
“No, but she pretty much figured it out from the way I guess I was acting, plus the fact that I had a small bruise on one cheek, although I told her that was from falling on a bus when the driver slammed on the brakes. She kept asking what had happened between Sparky and me. I wouldn’t tell her—I just couldn’t. I couldn’t tell anybody.” Noreen took a couple of deep breaths, but gave a negative wave of the hand when I asked if she wanted a drink. All the color was gone from her face.
“Whom did you tell—and when?” Wolfe asked. I was probably the only person alive who could detect that he was moved by the narrative.
“Aunt Lily was really the first, and that was just this last Saturday, when we had brunch,” she said. “I’d been carrying it around with me for weeks. My mother was away, or she surely would have figured something out, and Michael and I hadn’t been together lately—no particular reason, just our separate lives. Same with Daddy, I hadn’t seen much of him for a couple of months. And actually, I didn’t even tell Aunt Lily who did it, just that it was someone I’d gone out with. She figured it out, though. She knew I’d been out with Sparky. And I think she said she’d been introduced to him, I forget exactly where.”
“So Mr. Linville knew Miss Rowan?”
“Uh … yes—at least they’d met,” Noreen said. “Why?”
“And was he also aware that Miss Rowan and Mr. Goodwin are good friends?” Wolfe asked, ignoring her question.
Noreen wrinkled her face. “Mm, it might have come up. I vaguely remember mentioning something to him after Aunt Lily’s name had come up in conversation, what with Mr. Goodwin being so … well-known and all.”
Wolfe allowed himself a slight grimace at the mention of my renown. “When did your mother learn what had transpired with Mr. Linville?”
“She got home Tuesday from Europe, and Michael and I had an informal little welcome-back party—at her place. You know, champagne, a few balloons, a sign on the door. We invited Edward—Mr. Pamsett—too, because he and Mother have been what you might call an item for some time now, a few years, I guess. I worked extra hard to look good and act cheerful. But Mother saw right through me.”
“And she managed to worm it out of you?”
“I’ll say. I guess I sort of went to pieces. Some celebration that turned out to be! I really put a damper on the big homecoming.” She looked down, pleating the skirt of her dress with her fingers.
“So on Tuesday night, not only your mother but also your brother and Mr. Pamsett knew what had happened,” Wolfe asked rhetorically. “I assume they also learned that the other party was Mr. Linville?”
Noreen nodded. “Mother was almost hysterical, which I suppose you can attribute partly to the jet lag, but through all her rantings she seemed mainly freaked-out that the newspapers would get hold of the story. Heaven help us if the sainted family name gets sullied, you know? And now what’s likely to happen to the family name in the media? Michael went nuts. I’ve never seen him so mad. In fact, he hit a glass-topped cocktail table so hard with his fist that he put a crack in it. Edward stayed his usual laid-back self, though. He thought we ought to go to the police, which really made Mother crazy.”
“Can you recall what your brother said?”
“Oh, he was furious. He started yelling about how I should have been happy to be going out with Doug. But he was only mad at himself. You know, for not being able to protect me.”
“Doug?”
“That’s somebody I see fairly often, Douglas Rojek. And then he began yelling about how people like …” Noreen took a deep breath, then another, as if she couldn’t bear to pronounce the name. “… like him are treated in other countries when they get caught doing … well, you know. He was pretty … graphic.”
“Did he make any specific threats at that time involving Mr. Linville?”
“No, just rantings. But that’s Michael—he’s mostly bark. I’ve never known him to even throw a punch at anyone, except as a college boxer, and he only did that to fulfill his sports requirement. Violence is not in his nature.”
“So noted,” Wolfe remarked dryly. “But let us for a moment consider this consecution: A young woman is outrageously ill-used by a flamboyant and wealthy libertine. Soon thereafter, this debauchee is found dead, an apparent murder victim. The young woman’s protective and outraged older brother, apprehended by the police, although not resisting them, readily confesses to the slaying. You must admit we have here, especially from the law-enforcement perspective, a compelling scenario. Were I a district attorney, I would relish such a situation.”
Noreen bristled. “You sound like an enemy rather than a friend.”
Wolfe regarded her beatifically. “It is most often friends who tell us what we least wish to hear.”
She looked at him doubtfully, then turned to me for a reaction. I raised one eyebrow and smiled.
“Oh, you’re right, of course,” she said, shifting nervously in the red leather chair. “I’m sorry for flaring up, but I’m positive Michael is innocent. Won’t you please help?”
Wolfe considered her and then looked at the wall clock, confirming that his afternoon sojourn with the orchids was perilously close at hand. “Madam,” he said, “you no doubt are aware that my fees are what some have termed exorbitant.”
“I am aware of that. I can afford you.”
He closed his eyes and coupled his hands over his center mound. I knew he was trying to figure out a good reason why he should turn Noreen down. Work was bad enough; a woman client was worse. But he also knew that if he gave her a thumbs-down, he’d have to listen to me carping about the bank balance. Simply put, the big guy was between the proverbial rock and hard place. After thirty seconds he opened his eyes and considered Noreen without enthusiasm.
“Very well. I accept your commission, but with two provisos: First, I cannot, and will not, guarantee success, if you define success as the exoneration of your brother. I will of course explore avenues that seem most likely to bring forth another candidate as Mr. Linville’s murderer. Second, I will likely need to speak to some of your acquaintances—among them Miss Mars and perhaps the gentleman of whom you spoke that you see with some regularity. Mr.… ?”
“Rojek. Doug Rojek.”
“Yes. In the course of my and Mr. Goodwin’s conversations with them and with others, it is probable that your unfortunate experience with Mr. Linville will be unavoidably brought into the discussion. Is this of overriding concern to you?”
Noreen blinked twice. “Just yesterday, I would have said yes, but now, what happened to me doesn’t seem very important anymore. My brother is innocent, Mr. Wolfe. Ask anybody anything that you think will help Michael.”
“That is a pragmatic position to take, Miss James,” Wolfe said. For him, the tone was almost approving. “And now I must leave for a previous engagement. However, Mr. Goodwin will work with you on details and specifics.” Having thus spoken, Wolfe levered himself to his feet and made for the hall and the elevator.
What Wolfe means by “details and specifics” is, among other things, the discussion of our fees with the client. And since he doesn’t like to trouble himself with the specifics of such mundane and mercenary considerations, he leaves them to me—knowing full well that as chief bookkeeper, checkbook-balancer, and bill-payer, I will always make sure that our income is sufficient to cover niceties including the fresh fish, meat, and vegetables that Fritz insists on ordering; the cases of beer that Wolfe insists on consuming; and the salaries that Theodore, Fritz, and I insist on receiving. So far, we always have had enough Federal R
eserve notes coming in to ensure that life in the brownstone will continue to function in the manner to which Wolfe long ago became accustomed. For that, I take more than a little of the credit.
“Now, Miss James,” I said, swiveling to face our guest after Wolfe had departed for the plant rooms, “before we go any further, let’s talk about details and specifics.”
TEN
SO NOW WE OFFICIALLY HAD a client, and one who didn’t seem to show the slightest resentment about our “outrageous fees.” In fact, when I quoted the amount—sixty thousand dollars, half payable now, half at the completion of our work—she simply said, “Oh, I thought it probably would be more.” Then, without missing a beat, she pulled out a checkbook with a red-and-blue-plaid cover and proceeded calmly to write out a draft for thirty grand as if it were something she did every time she bought groceries. And she followed by asking me what was next.
“Next is more questions, if you’ve got the time,” I told her with a smile.
“Of course I’ve got the time, Mr. Goodwin—oh, there I go again. Archie, I mean. Take as long as you want. If anything, I should be concerned about your time,” Noreen said earnestly, sitting erect in the red leather chair like a student about to be quizzed by a teacher. I could see why Lily was so fond of her; this one had at least two of the three traits I like most—character and manners. The third is a sense of humor, and given the situation, Noreen hadn’t had much call to exhibit that side of her, assuming it existed.
I started in with the questions, including how well she felt she’d gotten to know Linville on their two dates.
“Apparently not very well at all, given what happened,” she mused. “As I told you and Mr. Wolfe, I really felt that he was an innocent kind of wild, if that makes sense. Not the mean kind, you know? I decided the press must have been unfair about him.”
“What about his drinking?”
“Well, he did do a little too much of that for my taste, especially given that he mixed it with driving. I guess if I’d known him better, or longer, I would have eventually said something about it.”
“Did you meet any of his friends?”
“Two or three. There was one, Todd Halliburton, we ran into both times we went out.”
I remembered Linville’s fireplug-sized sidekick. “What was he like?”
Noreen shrugged. “Okay, I guess. Actually, pretty nice. Seemed sort of on the shy side, though. He didn’t say much.”
I wondered if we’d met the same Halliburton. “Was he with a date? And what did he look like?”
“No, once he was alone—that was at Orion—and the other time, at Morgana’s, I think … um, yes, it was at Morgana’s, he was with another guy, Charlie something, I forget the last name. What did Todd look like? Well, he’s really short—shorter than Sparky … was. He’s got real light hair, almost white, and he wears it cut short. Why?”
“Just curious,” I told her. We were talking about the same guy, all right. “What does Halliburton do?”
She frowned, thinking about it. “I think he’s an accountant of some kind downtown. He mentioned it one night, but I can’t recall. I do remember that he said he lived in the Village, but that’s about all.”
“Miss James, to your knowledge, before Wednesday night who was aware of what had happened between you and Sparky Linville?”
“I thought we were going to use first names,” she said with a tight smile. “It’s Noreen, remember—Archie? Well, as I said before, Lily knew, back last Saturday, and Mother, Michael, and Edward found out when we had that homecoming party. And Daddy knew that same night, of course, because Mother phoned him.”
“Do the two of them communicate a lot?”
“I wouldn’t say a lot, no. They’re not chummy by any means, but they do still talk, especially when it involves Michael or me. And Mother did give Daddy a call that night, to tell him about it. She really hit the ceiling.”
“Not so surprising for a mother to be distraught in that situation, though, is it?”
“No,” Noreen conceded, “it’s not. And I guess I’d have reacted the same way if it had been my daughter.”
“Tell me about your friend Rojek, the one you said you see fairly often.”
She ran a hand through her hair and let it drop into her lap. “Doug’s a nice guy—really sweet. I met him through Michael. They got to know each other in a Wall Street softball league—they were each captain of a company team. Doug’s with a brokerage house—Maxwell and Mills.”
“Is this serious between you two?”
Noreen’s cheeks got rosy again. “I’m not really sure yet, but … maybe. I guess it’s really a little too early to tell.”
“How does he feel about you?”
She paused to think about it. “Well, I have to say I think he’s pretty interested, although like me, he’s been going out with other people too, at least occasionally.”
“Does Rojek know about what happened with Sparky Linville?”
“This may sound funny, but I’m not really sure.”
“It does sound funny. After you explain it, maybe I’ll understand.”
She looked over at the bookcases and then at the globe before answering. “Doug and I have been going out, oh, about once a week for a few months now—to the movies, for drinks, to a Mets game once. As I said, he’s really sweet, a nice guy. Well, after what happened with Sparky, I got so depressed, you know, that I didn’t feel like seeing Doug—or anybody, for that matter. So I turned him down three or four times in a row. I gave different excuses, like I wasn’t feeling well, or I had to spend the evening with Daddy, or I was just plain ‘busy,’ or—”
“I’ve been on the receiving end of all of those too, at one time or another,” I said, nodding.
She smiled weakly. “Anyway, I knew Doug was getting a little bent out of shape by all the turndowns, so I started saying yes again and we went out a few times, but I knew he could tell something was wrong. I mean, as hard as I tried, I wasn’t myself. I’m really still not … at all.” She allowed herself a deep breath.
“Okay, so he figured out that for some reason you were acting differently. But did he even know you’d gone out with Linville?”
“I’m not sure, unless Polly said something to him.”
“Why would she say anything?” I asked. “Was she really miffed after all about you going out with someone she’d been dating?”
“No, I don’t think so, I really don’t. But Polly seemed to feel Doug was the right person for me, and she was always real friendly to him when he came by to pick me up or when he stopped over for a beer. She always built him up to me when we were alone, and I also think—although I don’t know this for sure—that he would call Polly to, you know, talk about me.”
“Ah, it’s the old story,” I said, waving a hand. “Lovestruck lad seeks advice from the best girlfriend of the object of his affection.”
“Something like that,” Noreen replied, this time favoring me with a sheepish but full-blown smile.
“All right, so it seems likely that Mr. Rojek knew you had been out with Barton Linville. But as to whether he knows anything about that night, and what happened, you’re not sure at all?”
“No. He never has mentioned Sparky’s name, not once. But then, Doug wouldn’t. If he’s the jealous type, he’s never shown it to me. Wait a minute Mr.—Archie,” she said, looking directly at me. “Do you think that Doug would have … ?” She let the sentence evaporate.
“Right now I don’t think anything,” I said evenly. “Understand, at this point we are operating on the assumption that your brother had nothing to do with the violent death of one Barton Linville. That being the case, someone else conked Mr. L. in that parking garage. Now, it’s possible that Linville had dozens of people you’ve never met or heard of lining up to give him a one-way trip, but not very likely. The circles he appears to have moved in favor hot air and bluster and posturing—that type wouldn’t be apt to resort to murder. Chances are stronger that the per
son who dispatched him is someone you know—and care for. I mention that because even if your brother is cleared, you may not like the way this business turns out.”
“I know,” she said softly, shaking her head and looking at the tips of her shoes.
“I honestly don’t know how you were able to bottle this up for a whole month,” I told her. “Didn’t you at least see a doctor?”
“Yeah, I did. And that … was really hard.” Noreen chewed her lower lip and allowed as to how she could use a glass of water, which I got from the chilled carafe on the table that doubles as a service bar. She thanked me and took a couple of healthy swallows. “He’s somebody a friend of mine goes to—no way was I about to call the doctor my mother and I use. Anyway, I made up a story about … getting carried away one night, and he gave me a whole batch of tests for, you know … everything. God, it was awful.”
“Sorry to be so damned nosy, but it’s an occupational necessity. Next rough question: Weren’t you afraid Linville might … be back?”
“Umm, in a way, but for one thing, I, well, sort of hurt him, you know?”
“You mean physically?”
Noreen nodded, finishing the rest of her water.
“Dare I ask how?”
“Oh, not what you’re probably thinking,” she said, coloring slightly. “I scratched him pretty good on the face, for one thing. And I hit him in the eye—I know that hurt because he … yelled. Loud I shouldn’t say this, but … I wish I’d killed him.” She sounded like she meant it.
“Did you kill him, Noreen?” I said, keeping my expression impassive.
She held my eyes for several seconds without blinking, then scraped at a tooth with her thumbnail. “No, but I’ve had a lot of dreams the last few weeks—nightmares, really—where I, well, murdered him different ways,” she said with a quavering voice. “I know that sounds terrible, but I keep getting them—the nightmares, I mean.”
I studied her, trying to factor out the histrionics, then decided there weren’t any. Whatever neighborhood in my brain decides such things told me I was getting it straight, without any malarkey.
The Last Coincidence (The Nero Wolfe Mysteries Book 4) Page 7
