Archie Meets Nero Wolfe (28 page)

I told him that I would be honored, assuming I was still living in New York in the spring.

“Why in the world wouldn’t you be?” Williamson asked.

“Operatives’ jobs are hard to come by these days, and I don’t know how long Del Bascom can afford to keep me on. He’s having a rough time himself, damned rough.”

I
n fact, about two weeks after that football game, Del called me into his office. I could tell by his expression that he was about to be the bearer of bad news.

“Close the door, Archie, and sit down.” I closed and I sat.

“You read the papers. I don’t have to tell you what the times are like,” he said, firing up one of his cheap stogies. “Shoot, we haven’t had a case of any kind in almost two weeks, and the one we did have barely paid the electrical and the telephone bills, not to mention Wilda’s queenly salary.”

“You don’t have to beat around the bush with me, Del. I’m a big boy now, and I have seen this coming for quite some time.”

“I’m really sorry,” the old detective said, shaking his head. “I’ll tell you what, though. You can keep your office here for as long as you want, and if you happen to dig up some cases on your own, that’s jake by me. And if you want to try catching on with another agency, I’ll give you a good reference, a very good reference. And I will mean every word of it.”

“I appreciate that. Things are bad for everybody in this business right now, aren’t they?”

“Pretty much. I know that Durkin, Cather, and Gore all are hurting. About the only thing keeping any of them—and us—above water is that welcome money that Wolfe spread around after Williamson got the ransom dough back.”

“Yeah, that has been damned helpful. What about Panzer?”

“Oh, Saul’s okay. His reputation around town is sterling silver. He can hold a tail like a bloodhound and disappear into the woodwork when he doesn’t want to be seen. I don’t think that he’ll ever lack for business, and neither will Nero Wolfe, for that matter. The big difference is that Wolfe needs a lot more money than Saul to live in the manner to which he has grown accustomed. All those orchids, all those books, all those wonderful meals. Almost any good restaurant in Manhattan would hire his man Brenner in an instant if they had the chance.”

“Okay, Del, I’ll take you up on your offer of me keeping an office for now. But if by some miracle, I do drum up some business, I’ll cut you in, which is only fair.” I got no argument from him.

A
couple more weeks went by without success. One morning, as I was sitting at my desk and reading the want ads, Del came in. “Nero Wolfe wants you to call him,” he said.

“What does he want?”

“He didn’t say. Here’s his number, in case you’ve forgotten it,” Del said, handing me a sheet of paper. I hadn’t forgotten it.

“Huh! Maybe he’s going to give me an even bigger share of that last payment from Williamson,” I said.

“If that’s the case, let me know,” he said laughing, “because I’m going to demand more, too.”

I dialed the number. “Yes?” Wolfe’s voice.

“Archie Goodwin. You asked that I give you a telephone call.”

“Yes, Mr. Goodwin. Would you be able to come to my office late this afternoon? Say at six o’clock?”

“Sure, I can be there. What’s the subject?”

“I would like to discuss something with you, but only in person.”

“I’ll see you then.”

A
t precisely six by my watch, I rang the doorbell of the brownstone on that quiet block of West Thirty-Fifth Street. Fritz Brenner swung the door open and invited me in. “A pleasure to see you, Mr. Goodwin,” he said.

“Nice to get such a warm welcome,” I answered. “I believe that I am expected.”

“Yes indeed, and you are right on time. Mr. Wolfe just came down from the plant rooms.”

I walked down the hall to the office with Fritz and found my host sitting at his desk, about to open one of the two chilled bottles of Canadian beer on a tray before him. “Ah, Mr. Goodwin, thank you for coming. Will you have something to drink?”

I asked for scotch and water, for which I was developing a taste. Fritz scrambled to get it as I parked myself in the red leather chair that Inspector Cramer seemed to like so much.

Wolfe drank beer, licked his lips, and looked at me, saying nothing. I returned his gaze. After a minute or so, he cleared his throat. “Mr. Bascom has spoken highly of your work.”

“I’m glad to hear that. I have learned a lot from him these past weeks, and I’m still learning.”

“He informs me that he cannot keep you on his payroll any longer, however, for economic reasons.”

I nodded. “The business just isn’t there now, and nobody knows when it will be.”

“You are still relatively new to the city,” Wolfe observed, “but your time here has hardly been uneventful.”

“I won’t argue that, sir,” I said, wondering where this conversation was going.

“I am aware that your very first job in New York ended with you shooting two men fatally. How do you feel about that?”

“I’m not in any way proud of it, but you probably are familiar with the circumstances.”

“I am. You were under fire yourself, I believe.”

“Yes, sir, I definitely was. I feel I came very close to dying right there on that North River pier. If I hadn’t thought I was in immediate danger, I would have continued firing in the air.”

Wolfe dipped his chin a half inch, which I took to be a nod. “The reason I bring this incident up, Mr. Goodwin, is that I am not interested in anyone who uses firearms indiscriminately. There are occasions, however, when one has no choice but to act with dispatch, as you did that night.”

“Glad to hear you say that. I got fired because the boss of that pier felt I was too quick on the draw. I don’t agree with him, and I also don’t apologize for what happened that night.”

“Nor should you. I am satisfied that you acted properly under the circumstances. Mr. Goodwin, I have a proposition for you.”

“My ears are open.”

“I would like you to work for me.”

“Really? What kind of case is it?”

“You misunderstand. I am seeking a full-time assistant.”

That threw me, and I covered my surprise by taking a belt of the scotch. “What exactly would the job entail?” I asked after swallowing.

“A number of things. For one, I need a man who is comfortable moving about in the city. As you can see, I am not mobile, nor am I interested in so being.”

“Ah, you want a leg man, is that it?”

“In part, yes.”

“Why not hire Saul Panzer? From everything I have seen and heard, he knows this town backward, forward, and sideways. He’s smart, he’s nervy, and he knows when to keep his mouth shut.”

“I agree that Mr. Panzer possesses all those attributes you mentioned, and a good many more as well. However, he prefers to be self-employed, and with his talents and deserved reputation, he is easily able to find a steady succession of clients. I feel fortunate when I am able to retain his services for a case.”

“You said my being a leg man would be a part of the job. What else do you have in mind?”

“It takes a lot of money to finance the life I have chosen to lead, which means I must use the talents I have been given. However, I confess that much of the time, I find work distasteful, and I need someone who will spur me to action.”

“You mean give you a swift kick?”

He made a face. “If you insist upon putting in that way.”

“Well, I tend to be somewhat antsy, so maybe I’m the right guy to—how did you put it?—spur you to action. I like to be busy, all the time. Any other duties?”

“Yes. I assume you can operate a typewriter?”

“Well, I’m by no means the world’s fastest, but I know my way around the keyboard. Why?”

“You would be required to answer my correspondence as well as pay the bills and keep the checkbook and other financial records. A man currently comes in two days a week to perform these and other functions, but I have not found him to be satisfactory.”

“So there’s a good deal to this job besides being a detective,” I said. “Have you covered everything?”

“Almost. You also would maintain the germination records for the ten thousand orchids I grow.”

“Orchid records? Sorry, but I’m afraid I just struck out. I don’t know a damn thing about flowers.”

“You don’t have to. Theodore Horstmann, who works with me up in the plant rooms, brings down note cards on plant propagation each afternoon. All you have to do is file them in their proper place in the drawers over there.” Wolfe indicated a steel cabinet in one corner.

“Okay, regarding salary, what neighborhood are we in?”

Wolfe wrote a figure on a sheet and handed it to me. “I could live in that neighborhood,” I said. “Speaking of neighborhoods, my hotel isn’t all that far from here. What would the hours be?”

“Ah, there is one more thing, of course,” Wolfe said. “I would expect you to live here.”

“Here? In this house?”

“I do not think you would find life in the brownstone to be onerous. You would have a commodious bedroom on the second floor—Fritz can show it to you. It is furnished, but if the décor is not to your liking, you may purchase your own fittings.

“As to meals, you are free to eat with me in the dining room each day at lunch and dinner, and Fritz will prepare breakfast for you in the kitchen. I take my morning meal up in my room. It is not braggadocio on my part when I state to you the food served under this roof is superb. America’s fourth-richest man and three well-known and highly esteemed Manhattan restaurateurs have attempted to hire Fritz away from me, but, I am happy to say, without success.”

“Hmm. I think I would like to see the bedroom.”

Wolfe used the buzzer to summon Fritz, and the chef and I climbed to the second floor. “That is Mr. Wolfe’s bedroom,” he said, gesturing to a door across the hall from the room we entered. The space that I might choose to call home was fair-sized, with its own bathroom and two large windows that looked out on West Thirty-Fifth Street. The bed appeared to be comfortable, and the desk had plenty of drawer space. There were three chairs—more than I would likely ever need. I didn’t much like the pictures on the walls, but they were easily replaceable.

“Nice, yes, very nice,” I remarked to Fritz as I looked around. “And where is your room?”

“In the basement,” he said. “I have everything there that one could possibly need.”

“Mr. Wolfe praises your cooking,” I said, and the guy actually blushed.

“He is too kind, Mr. Goodwin. Mr. Wolfe is a connoisseur of fine cuisine, and I try hard to please him.”

“It sounds like you succeed. Thanks for the tour.”

I went back to Wolfe’s office, where he was reading a book. He set it down and gave me a look as I entered. “Nice room,” I told him. “You have thrown a lot at me tonight, and I would like to think about your offer.”

“Very well,” he said. “How much time do you feel you would you need to make your decision?”

“Just a couple of days, maybe less.”

“Satisfactory. I await word.” He went back to his book, and I stepped out into the hall, where Fritz was waiting. His face wore a question mark.

“This is a nice operation you’ve got here,” I said. “Do you think I would fit in?”

“Yes, I do, Mr. Goodwin,” he said with a smile.

“Remember, when we first met, I asked you to call me Archie,” I told him as he held open the front door.

“And I now remind you to call me Fritz,” he said. I told him I would as I said good-bye and walked down the seven steps to the sidewalk.

I stood in the breezy New York evening and looked up at the brownstone, trying to picture it as my home. I liked the picture.

F
irst and foremost, a bow to Barbara Stout and Rebecca Stout Bradbury, to whom this book is warmly dedicated, for their support and approval. My heartfelt thanks goes out to them not only for this volume but also for my seven earlier Nero Wolfe novels, for which they also offered encouragement and wise counsel.

In developing this story, I based some events and characters, albeit loosely, on references in Rex Stout’s novels. In the novella “Fourth of July Picnic,” from the collection
And Four to Go
(1958), Archie Goodwin describes himself to an audience: “Born in Ohio. Public high school, pretty good at geometry and football, graduated with honor but no honors. Went to college two weeks, decided it was childish, came to New York and got a job guarding a pier, shot and killed two men and was fired ... In several other stories, Archie mentions his Ohio origins.

In
Fer-de-Lance
, the first Nero Wolfe novel (1934), Archie refers briefly to the kidnapping of Tommie Williamson, the son of Burke Williamson, owner of a chain of hotels, and says that each year on the anniversary of the boy’s safe return, Mr. and Mrs. Williamson and their son dine at Wolfe’s brownstone to mark the occasion.

All the freelance operatives in this narrative also appear throughout the corpus. Del Bascom plays a far larger role here than in any of the other Wolfe stories and is generally used far less frequently than “regulars” Saul Panzer, Fred Durkin, and Orrie Cather. However, Nero Wolfe respects Bascom, and in Rex Stout’s
The Silent Speaker
(1947), Wolfe recommends the old-school private eye to a prospective client, calling him “a good man.” Bill Gore, like Bascom, appears only on occasion in Wolfe stories. Overall, I have tried to make all the recurring series characters, including NYPD’s Inspector Cramer, Lieutenant Rowcliff, and Sergeant Stebbins, behave and react as they did in Rex Stout’s compelling tales.

In addition to Mr. Stout’s stories, I found three books most helpful in my research. They are:
Nero Wolfe of West Thirty-fifth Street: The Life and Times of America’s Largest Private Detective
by William S. Baring-Gold (The Viking Press, 1969);
The Brownstone House of Nero Wolfe
by Ken Darby as told by Archie Goodwin (Little, Brown & Co., 1983); and the fine biography
Rex Stout
by John McAleer (Little, Brown & Co, 1977), which won a Mystery Writers of America Edgar Award for best critical/autobiographical work in 1978.