It turned out to be the most exciting hockey game I had seen in years. The New York Rangers trailed almost from the opening face-off, eventually falling behind by three goals. Then they fought back, improbably scoring twice in the final three minutes to defeat Toronto, the team that would go on to win the Stanley Cup during that post � World War II season.

The sold-out arena erupted � everyone, that is, except Lily Rowan, who seemed to be elsewhere. As we made our way out of Madison Square Garden with the still-excited crowd and headed for a bar down the street, Lily confirmed what I had felt all evening: her mind was far from the ice rink. After we had settled into a quiet booth at the rear of the bar, I turned to her.

�My dear, you have been worlds away tonight. First at Rusterman�s, where you seemed to find little joy in the superb veal cutlets, normally a favorite of yours. Then at the game, where you are usually among the most enthusiastic fans in the Garden, you sat on your hands, despite how exciting the action on the ice was. Care to unburden yourself to your old uncle Archie?�

�Uncle Archie, is it now?� she said. �Funny, I have never thought of our relationship as uncle and niece.�

�Okay, neither have I, obviously. It was just my feeble attempt at humor, which clearly didn�t strike home, judging by your expression. Seriously, what is bothering you?�

�Oh, Escamillo, you know how I hate to burden you with my problems. You always have so many challenges of your own, trying to help Nero Wolfe solve his cases.�

�Trying to help is the operative phrase, I�m afraid. You know very well that Wolfe does all the solving, while I am just his spear-carrier. But let us get back to you. Why the glum expression tonight?�

Lily let out an extended sigh. �You have met Maureen Carr, and more than once.�

�I have indeed, and what an adorable creature she is, as well as brainy and charming. Mark me down as impressed.�

�I can�t quarrel with your assessment. And she has been among my best friends over the years. However, something has happened...�

�Go on.�

�As you know, two weekends ago, I was at my place up in Katonah with our women�s group, a dozen or so of us meeting as we do for three or four days every March to talk about projects we are working on. Maureen was supposed to be there, as usual, but she never showed up, and in the days since, she hasn�t answered her phone to me or anyone else, and not one of her friends has heard from her, which is highly unusual. All of us are very concerned.�

Here, I must break into the narrative to tell you about Lily Rowan. She is my good � make that very good � friend, and I have known her since that day years ago when, on a job with Nero Wolfe in rural Upstate New York, a bull charged at me in a field, and I leaped over a fence to avoid him, landing on my rear end and losing my dignity in the process.

A lovely young woman in a yellow shirt and slacks leaned on the fence and clapped her hands, saying �Beautiful, Escamillo! Do it again!� That was Lily. And Escamillo, a name she has tagged me with ever since, is a toreador in the opera Carmen.[1]

Lily is very rich, having inherited millions from her father, an Irish immigrant who built much of New York City�s current sewer system. She also is lazy, by her own definition, although I strongly dispute that definition. She does not have � or need � a salaried job, but she is actively involved in numerous good works, to which she gives unstintingly both of her time and her funds.

And that �women�s group� to which she referred is not some gathering of idle dilettantes, but rather a loose-knit organization of volunteers committed to the financing and the betterment of orphanages, food pantries, havens for battered wives, and improved working conditions for women, among other projects. Their annual meetings at Lily�s Katonah estate north of New York are to compare notes and plan strategies for the year ahead.

Lily lives in a spacious duplex penthouse in Midtown Manhattan, where she throws lavish parties, many of them benefiting one or more of the causes she supports. I often serve as a bartender at these soirees. When she is not involved in good works, Lily and I can be seen at hockey or baseball games, the opera or a Broadway play, or dancing at the Hotel Churchill. And just to keep things straight, when she and I are out on the town, I foot the bill. Now, back to that bar near Madison Square Garden.

�Tell me more about Maureen,� I asked as we were served our drinks.

�She is within a year or two of my age and has been divorced for, oh... probably eight years now. She got a good settlement, so she says, although she has money of her own from an inheritance. Her late father ran a steel company in Pennsylvania and put her through Radcliffe, where she got a degree.�

�Was her breakup amicable?�

Lily lifted her shoulders and let them drop slowly. �I suppose you could say that. Her ex-husband, Larry Corcoran, whom I don�t believe you ever met, has remarried. His flirtation with the woman who eventually became his second wife probably was the reason for Maureen�s breakup with him.�

�Uh-huh. An age-old story. How long has it been since any of your group has been in touch with her?�

�Probably more than two weeks now, at least as far as I know. Among us, we have been talking a lot about Maureen, and we all are totally puzzled � and worried.�

�Well, there�s no question that she�s got plenty of green stuff. Maybe she took off for a warmer climate � the Caribbean, Hawaii, or maybe even the South of France.�

�Not likely, not at all,� Lily said, �and unlike the rest of us, she does not have a vacation home she can go to. Something serious must have happened. Maureen has never before missed one of our Katonah gatherings, and if she�s ever had to cancel for some reason, she lets me know. She is extremely responsible and conscientious.�

�What about relatives? She must have some. Maybe she�s gone to stay with one of them. Perhaps there has been some sort of family emergency that she�s gone to help out with.�

�For one thing, Maureen is almost an only child, and both her parents are long dead. It�s a situation not different from my own. And now that I think about it, I don�t ever recall her talking about any aunts, uncles, cousins.�

�What do you mean by almost an only child?� I asked.

�Sorry, I did not phrase that well. Maureen does have a half brother, Everett, whom I have never met. They are not at all close, and in all the time I have known her, she has barely mentioned him.�

�Bad blood?�

�I don�t think so. It�s more a case of having little or nothing in common. From what little I have been able to learn, Everett is quite a bit older than Maureen and is the son of her father and his first wife.�

�Any idea where Everett lives?�

Lily bit her lower lip, as if in thought. �I think she once said something about him being in the New York area, but she was pretty vague, perhaps on purpose. Or maybe she didn�t know. She seems to feel that he has led something of an aimless life.�

�Hmm. I assume that as an offspring of a steel baron, he ended up with at least a healthy chunk of his father�s estate.�

�I agree with your assumption. The only other thing I remember Maureen mentioning about him was that he tended to be careless with money.�

�Those who have it don�t always use it well,� I remarked.

�That might well be the case with this prodigal brother,� Lily said.

�I should know where Maureen lives, although I�m not sure if you have ever mentioned it.�

�I may not have. She has a duplex on Park Avenue up in the Sixties. It�s a lavish place.�

�Given your own abode, the fact that you call another apartment �lavish� gets my attention.�

�I am not exaggerating, Archie. It is a showpiece.�

�Have you or any other friends of Miss Carr been at that �showpiece� since she dropped out of sight?�

�Not that I�m aware of, although I did get the telephone number of her maid, Sofia, and called her at home. She sounded baffled as to where Maureen might have gone. �Miss Carr said nothing to me about going away, Miss Rowan. I do not know what to think,� Sofia told me.

�You know I don�t like to be a busybody; it is not my style and never has been,� Lily said. �But darn it, Archie, I just can�t figure out what to do, and I know something has got to be wrong.�

When she refers to me as �Archie� rather than that operatic bullfighter, as she has during this conversation, I know that she�s really upset and is indirectly asking for help. �Can I assume this Sofia has a key to Maureen�s Park Avenue duplex?� I posed.

�She must,� Lily said, �because even when Maureen is out of town, she goes there to dust and make sure things are in order for her employer�s return. Are you suggesting we should get the key and take a look around?�

�As usual, you read me like a book,� I said. �Do you also know where the maid lives?�

�Up in Morningside Heights, somewhere just off Broadway, I think. Maureen mentioned it once.�

�Do you know Sofia�s last name?�

�I don�t, but maybe one of the other girls in our group does. We have all been up to Maureen�s, of course, for parties and meetings, and Sofia has often been there, serving us drinks and food. I�ll ask around. You think we should go to the duplex and take a look, don�t you?�

�Don�t you?� I countered.

Lily frowned. �I... well, I guess so.�

�You seem unsure.�

�Somehow, I would feel like a snoop going through Maureen�s home.�

�Now you know how I feel when I�m searching somebody�s place.�

�But that doesn�t really make you a snoop, at least by my definition. You are at work as a private detective, which is an honorable profession.�

�Tell that to our old friend Inspector Cramer sometime and be prepared for a horse laugh. Look, you have already told me how worried you are about Maureen Carr. I think that overrides any feelings you might have about being a nosy parker.�

�All right, I see your point. As you so often like to say, �I am on the case.� I�ll call Sofia again, and see if we can get a key to Maureen�s place from her.�

I was in the office after breakfast the next morning when Lily rang. �I got hold of Sofia, and I told her I wanted to get the key to Maureen�s duplex. She gave me her address and said I could come over anytime. But she felt that she should be present when we go to Maureen�s.�

�Protecting her employer�s property, no doubt.�

�Perhaps. Like us, she seems to be worried. She told me Maureen had never left town before without telling her where she was going and when she�d return.�

I took a sip of coffee before answering. �Did you tell her I would be tagging along?�

�Yes, and she said that she had no objection.�

�Glad to hear it. Did you find out her last name?�

�Jurek. It sounds like it might be Czech. She does have an accent, although her English is really quite good,� Lily said.

�More likely she�s Polish,� I said. �She is probably one of the many Europeans who have come over here in the couple of years since the end of the war. I will pick you up in front of your building in... say, forty minutes, how does that sound?�

�Well... yes, okay,� Lily replied. She still sounded uncomfortable about our undertaking.

I left a note on Wolfe�s desk, telling him I would be out most of the morning. We had no pressing cases, so he had no urgent need for me at the moment, as I had already typed up his correspondence from yesterday and left it on his desk for signing.

In fact, life in the old brownstone on West Thirty-Fifth Street near the Hudson had been downright serene recently. The bank balance was in okay shape, allowing Wolfe to indulge himself as usual with his ten thousand orchids on the roof, which he tends with his orchid nurse, Theodore Horstmann, and his books, of which he is reading three at any given time. And then, of course, there are the superb meals prepared by our live-in Fritz Brenner, which doubtless contribute to Wolfe�s seventh-of-a-ton bulk.

I got the convertible from Curran Motors, a block from the brownstone, where we have garaged our cars for years. I kept the top up as a buffer against the late March winds and drove north to Lily�s. She was waiting for me under the canopy of her building, wearing a beret and a scarf, with the collar of her raincoat tight around her neck.

�Hope I didn�t keep you waiting long,� I said as she slid gracefully into the car and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

�No, your timing was perfect. I stepped outside just thirty seconds ago.�

We drove north up Broadway to where the numbered cross streets jumped into the triple digits. For those visitors to New York who confine themselves to Midtown and its theaters and stores and hotels, they likely think of Manhattan as basically flat. One notable exception is Morningside Heights up near the north end of the island, home to Columbia University, St. John the Divine Cathedral, Grant�s Tomb, and... hills. Okay, these hills may not be impressive to someone from San Francisco, but they are rocky and with sometimes steep drop-offs, and the topography makes for some interesting vistas.

There was nothing particularly interesting, however, about the blocks just west of Broadway where Sofia Jurek lived. The area was lined with bland four- and five-story brick walk-ups. At Lily�s direction, I pulled up in front of one of these and we entered the bare street-level foyer, one wall of which was lined with mailboxes and buzzers. Lily pushed the button with JUREK on the card under it.

�Yes?� came the static-filled voice. When Lily gave her name, the voice said, �Three seventeen.�

We trudged up the heavily worn stairways to the third floor. Down a dimly lit corridor, a head could be seen peering out into the hallway.

�Hello, Sofia,� Lily said to the petite, dark-haired woman in the doorway. �It�s nice to see you.�

�It is very nice to see you also, Miss Rowan,� Sofia replied formally, looking at me with a questioning expression.

�This is my friend, Archie Goodwin,� Lily explained as we walked into the living room that seemed too filled with furniture, but was nonetheless neat. �He will be going with us to Miss Carr�s home. I will ask again as I did when we talked on the telephone earlier today: Do you have any idea where Miss Carr might have gone?�

Sofia shook her head vigorously. �I do not, not at all. Please sit down, both of you. Would you like to have some coffee? I have a pot made.�

I was about to say no thanks, but Lily had other ideas. �That would be very nice,� she said as our hostess hustled out of the room, presumably in the direction of the kitchen. �I have a few other questions to ask her,� Lily said in a voice just above a whisper.

�That�s usually my line,� I semi-whispered in reply.

�Sometimes a woman is more comfortable answering questions from another woman. I hope you don�t take offense.�

�None taken,� I replied as Sofia came in with steaming cups of coffee on a tray.

�Thank you so much,� Lily said as we sat, she and I on a sofa with plaid slipcovers and our hostess in a chair facing us. �I seem to remember you telling me once that your husband works for a scrap metal company over in Brooklyn.�

�That is right, Miss Rowan. He is there now.�

�How long have you been married?�

Sofia rolled her eyes, as if thinking. �Almost six years, yes. I was what you call a �war bride,�� she said, cheeks flushing.

�That is very romantic,� Lily said with a smile. �So, your husband is American?�

�Stan fought in your army, yes, Miss Rowan. We met in England just after the war was ending. I was one of many from Poland who were moved to London when the fighting still went on. We were married there. My name was Kaminski then, a very Polish name. But I am a Jurek now, which is much shorter. And that is nicer, I think.�

�Do you have children?�

�Not yet,� Sofia said. �Stan felt we should get settled in and save some money first. But we do want to have a family.�

Lily nodded. �Let me ask you about Miss Carr,� she said. �Before she... left, did she appear to be worried or upset to you?�

�No, the last time I saw her, she did not seem to be at all unhappy.�

�When was that?�

�I think two weeks ago last Wednesday. I go to Miss Carr�s three times each week, sometimes more if she needs me to help when she has guests.�

�On that day, did she tell you she would be taking a trip?�

�No, she said nothing about any trip to me, Miss Rowan, as I told you before.�

�And what happened the next time you went to her apartment?�

�That was a Friday. Miss Carr was not there.�

�Were you surprised?�

�No, she very often was not at home when I came in the morning. She is very busy, with many meetings, breakfasts, lunches.�

�Yes, I know, and I am at some of those very same meetings,� Lily said. �When did you become worried about her?�

�I think it was on Monday. Again, she was not home, and there was no message for me. She often left me, what do you call them... instructions?�

�Did you make a telephone call to anyone asking about Miss Carr?�

Again, Sofia shook her head. �Was I wrong to not tell someone?�

�No, no, not at all,� Lily assured her, reaching over and lightly squeezing the young woman�s arm. �Thank you so much for the coffee. I think we should go down to Miss Carr�s now. Archie, be a dear and carry the cups and pot back to the kitchen.�

�Oh no, no, I should do that, Miss Rowan.�

�Mr. Goodwin is perfectly capable. I don�t want to see him spoiled,� Lily said with a laugh. Knowing my role, I put the cups, spoons, and pot on the tray and headed for the small and neat kitchen with Sofia at my side.

�You can just put everything down next to the sink, Mr. Goodwin,� she said, going to the wall next to a calendar, taking a key off one of a series of hooks, and slipping it into her pocket. We returned to the living room, where Lily was putting her beret on. �You make very good coffee, Sofia,� she said. �And now we all are off.�

Sofia nodded, her expression somber. It was obvious she had mixed emotions about our venture. �I will get my raincoat,� she said.

�You make a good detective,� I whispered to Lily. �Ask a few personal questions first to make the interrogee relax, and then start in with the more probing ones.�

�I hardly think I asked anything that was very probing,� Lily replied. �By the way, is interrogee really a word?�

�All I can say is Nero Wolfe has used it in the past, so I rest my case. Now, let�s go.� As we left the apartment, Sofia�s face still registered uncertainty.

Maureen turned out to be very thorough in her record keeping, which did not surprise Lily, who said, �She has always been very precise and efficient in everything she does.�

Her precision, admirable though it was, did nothing to help us learn anything as to her possible whereabouts. Although Maureen was a wealthy woman, she was not careless with money, and she was very meticulous in putting down every dollar she spent, from four-figure designer gowns to eight-dollar lunches, as we found in reviewing her receipts.

�You look troubled, my dear,� Lily said after I had waded through the last of the folders in the filing cabinet.

�What I had hoped to find, either in the desk or in the files, was a datebook, or at least a schedule of her activities,� I said.

�She probably took it with her,� Lily said, but then she snapped her fingers and slapped her forehead lightly. �Of course � I have been a fool, and so have you, although you should be more ashamed than me, having searched through so many homes and offices in the past. It�s back to the bedroom for us.�

I followed Lily, and of course quickly realized what she was talking about. She went straight to the elegant white nightstand with an elegant lamp next to the bed and pulled open the drawer, tossing aside a black sleeping mask and a couple of bottles of pills before holding up a small book, white, of course, and looking at me from over her shoulder with what I would best describe as a triumphant smile.

�The shame is on both of us for not thinking about that nightstand right away,� she said as we sat side by side on the bed and began paging through the personal journal, working backward from the last entry, which was more than two weeks ago.

That last entry, on a Thursday, was Katonah weekend, written in her finishing school cursive. �Well, you know that one,� Lily said. �The gathering that Maureen never showed up for.�

�Yeah, and everything covering the last two weeks-plus is blank.�

�We flipped to the next-to-last notation, on a Wednesday: Met Opera, Tannh�user, L.T. �Any ideas who this L.T. is?�

Lily thought for a second, forehead creased, and said, �It must be Lloyd Thorne. I didn�t realize she had been seeing him anymore.�

�What can you tell me about the man?� I asked, sliding my notebook out of a pocket.

�I met him only once, at a single mothers� benefit at my place, several months ago. You weren�t there that night because you had your weekly poker game at Saul Panzer�s. Thorne seemed like an amiable fellow, a patent attorney at one of the big, prestigious firms in Midtown.�

�Any idea how Maureen feels about him?�

Lily shrugged. �Maureen always has been circumspect in discussing her social life. She dates a lot, which should not surprise you, especially given how impressed you seemed to be with her.�

�Merely an objective observation,� I replied.

�You did not seem so very objective at that Waldorf cocktail party raising money for women�s shelters. You spent so much time in a corner talking to Maureen that I had to break up your t�te-�-t�te and remind you both to circulate.�

�She was just curious about how a private detective works, and to be polite, I was telling her about some of my experiences.�

�Okay, that explanation is almost plausible,� she said. �Let�s get back to work.�

We came across a variety of appointments � hairdresser, massage, dress fitting � and meetings, some of which Lily recognized: �BCR, that�s Breast Cancer Research, WRO, Women�s Rights Organization. I was at that session; I remember it was right here, on Maureen�s terrace.�

More interesting to me were the entries that involved what appeared to be dates, with initials presumably indicating Maureen�s escorts. �Here we have Dinner at Sardi�s, J.R.; Ballet, W.T.; Dinner at �21,� E.M.; Gilbert & Sullivan Operetta, C.D.; Knicks game at the Garden, E.M.; BCR Dinner, E.M.,� I told Lily. �Any idea who these guys are � or at least should I assume they�re all guys?�

She allowed herself several seconds of looking skyward before her response. �I�m trying to recall which of these men I�ve actually met, and which ones I�ve only heard Maureen mention. Let�s see... J.R., that must be Jason Reed, who is a publisher with Ferris and Reed, which specializes in history and biography, not much fiction. With his company�s tastes, I�m guessing your boss has read some of their titles.�

�Could be. I can�t keep up with his books, given that he often goes through several in a week, and he keeps Murger�s in business. That�s a��

�I know, that is a bookstore. And I�ve been in there. Have you?�

�Yes, but only once to pick up some books Wolfe had ordered, when I just happened to be in that neighborhood,� I said. �Usually, Murger�s makes deliveries to the brownstone, seeing as my boss is a very good customer of theirs. Have you met Jason Reed?�

�I have, once, at an auction benefiting children�s hunger. As you would expect, given Maureen�s obvious desirability, she would attract interesting men, and Jason was both interesting and charming � and not hard on the eyes.�

�Sounds like he may have captivated you,� I remarked.

�Oh, do you really think that it is only men � including yourself, of course � who are drawn to the opposite sex?�

�Just making an observation, that�s all. Did Maureen have an extended relationship with this dashing and charming publisher?�

�Not that I am aware of,� Lily said. �I did remark to her after meeting Reed that I thought he was quite impressive. I remember she acted rather blas� about the man, as though she didn�t really seem to care one way or the other.�

�She is hard to please, eh?�

�Maybe she sets high standards for herself. Or more likely, she was overly suspicious of all men after her husband�s behavior. I am not sure she saw much of Jason Reed after that night at the auction. I don�t recall her mentioning him again.�

�What do you think of women who in their datebooks use only the initials of the men they�re going out with?�

�What in the world is wrong with that?� Lily asked. �It�s just a form of shorthand, nothing that�s necessarily secretive.�

�Does that mean that I am �A.G.� in your calendar on the nights when we go out?�

�Since you insist on knowing, I always write you down as just plain �A.��

�I thought if you used my second initial, it might differentiate me from any Aaron, Anthony, Alan, or Algernon you might be seeing.�

�Believe me, I would never, and I do mean never, date anyone named Algernon. Now, as I said before, let us go back to work before Sofia gets antsy and wonders what�s taking us so long.�

�Thanks for keeping me focused. What can you tell me about W.T., C.D., and E.M.?�

�That first one would be Will Talmadge, who�s an interesting case,� Lily said. �He inherited millions, or so it�s said, from his father, who made his money in, of all things, electronic cables that run under the streets, if you can believe it.�

�I can believe it. After all, your own late father, who I regret never having met, made his own fortune in the sewer business, so much of his work was also beneath the streets.�

�As I�ve said before, you would have liked him.�

�I have no doubt whatever of that. Have you met Mr. Talmadge?�

�I have, twice. The best description of him I can come up with is debonair. He is a good deal older than Maureen, dresses exceedingly well, has white hair and a matching mustache, and smokes a pipe. He was divorced years ago and has no offspring I�m aware of. He likes being seen in the company of younger women, and by all accounts, they like being around him, too.�

�Does he have a job, or can he just live on the interest from family investments?�

�Probably the latter. He is a patron of the arts, and he has backed several Broadway plays, and some operas as well. And for the record, he lives in the Dakota.�

�Which means he brushes shoulders with a lot of other well-known people. Any idea how Maureen feels about him?�

�I don�t. As I have said, she doesn�t talk a lot about the men she sees, and I don�t think she has been out with Talmadge more than a few times.�

�Moving right along, who, pray tell, is C.D.?�

Lily looked at the ceiling again, as if seeking inspiration. �Mm, that would be... Clay Dalton, whom I know very little about, other than that he comes from a family that has made its fortune in the construction business � roads, bridges, tunnels.

�I met him just once, when he was with Maureen at a benefit dinner at the Waldorf. He was a little rough around the edges but seemed to be a decent fellow. As I said, his money comes from the construction business. I didn�t get the impression that there was anything serious between them, though.�

�And what about E.M., the one who seems to pop up most often on our girl�s dance card?� I asked. �Oh, wait. Of course, that�s Eric Mason, the ad guy I met at one of your soirees. The one who was oozing confidence and personality.�

�He should have a lot of self-confidence,� Lily said. �Eric�s with the agency Gordon and Grove and is among the top creative directors in New York. He�s won both a potful of awards and has earned a big salary in the process.�

�I see a pattern emerging,� I said. �La Carr appears to enjoy the company of well-heeled gentlemen.�

Lily raised an eyebrow at me. �If you are suggesting that she is a gold digger, I would remind you that Maureen has plenty of money of her own. The fact that she has dated well-off men probably has to do with the social circles she moves in.�

�You make a good point. I do believe we now have plumbed the lady�s diary for all the information that we are likely to get. I�m sure you noticed that the datebook was completely blank after the Katonah weekend. Didn�t that strike you as strange, given how busy our Miss Carr normally is?�

�It did, and I think I see where you are going with this, Mr. Detective. She has planned to... well, go away.�

�Certainly possible. What else was missing?�

She bit a lip. �I�m not sure what you�re getting at.�

�We found her diary of activities, all right. But no address book.�

�Ah, of course, meaning she has taken it with her.�

�Seems likely. Well, we have been in the boudoir long enough. Shall we see if Sofia has learned anything?�

Lily nodded her agreement and we found the maid in the pantry, where she apparently had been going through the shelves. Before either of us could ask, she replied, �I thought perhaps I might find out if Miss Carr had taken some food, either from here or the refrigerator, but everything seems as I had left it. Except, certain things had to be thrown out of the refrigerator, of course.�

�Certainly,� Lily said. �What about elsewhere, did everything seem to be in order?�

Sofia nodded, biting a lip. �I do not like to be a...�

�I know what you are about to say,� Lily replied, �and I agree that this is very difficult, but we all are worried about Miss Carr. Do you think if we go through her clothes, we will be able to find what she might have taken with her?�

Sofia looked more uncomfortable than ever. �But she has so much clothing, Miss Rowan. I would not know what might be missing.�

�I agree, but let us at least take a look. You might have a better idea than I do as to what is in her wardrobe. And among her jewelry, for that matter.�

Lily gave me a look indicating that I would be of no help whatever in perusing Maureen Carr�s clothes closets and jewel boxes, and I wholeheartedly agreed. The two of them went one way while I headed for the living room, or whatever it was called.

I spent the next forty minutes playing at being a detective, which in this case meant moving through all the other areas in this double-decked palace. I spent the most time in an upstairs room that could pass for a library, with built-in bookshelves along one wall. And before you ask, yes, I opened every book and shook it, and nothing fell out other than one bookmark, from a copy of Arrowsmith by Sinclair Lewis. The pages where the bookmark had been yielded no clues.

Overall, the rooms I went through gave no indication of a sudden departure by the lady of the house. Other than very light coats of dust on tabletops, everything appeared to be neat and in place, surely a tribute to the conscientiousness of Sofia Jurek and her frequent visits to the apartment. I had just come down from upstairs when Lily and Sofia emerged into the entrance hall from the corridor leading to the bedrooms.

�Well, we struck out, to use one of your favorite baseball terms,� Lily told me. �Maureen has so many clothes and so much jewelry that it is almost impossible to tell what she may have gone off with, although for what it�s worth, the string of pearls she loves so much was in place. We also looked in the closet where her suitcases are kept and couldn�t tell if any were missing, because neither Sofia nor I know how many pieces of luggage she had to begin with.�

�A noble effort, indeed,� I said. �And I regret to tell you I had no success, either. If you two agree with me, we should leave.� I got no argument from either of them, and Sofia�s face registered relief. We said a brief good-bye to the doorman and drove north in silence until I dropped Sofia off in front of her building in Morningside Heights.

�I am so sorry that I was not of any help,� she said as she stepped out of the convertible. �So very sorry.�

�We did all that we could,� Lily assured her as I pulled away from the curb. After riding several blocks in silence, Lily said, �But we really haven�t done all that we can.�

�I am open to suggestions.�

�I really should have said I haven�t done all that I can.�

�Explain yourself, Miss Rowan.�

�I plan to talk to each of the men Maureen had been with socially in recent times, starting with the one most recently mentioned in her diary, Lloyd Thorne. From meeting with him, I will work backward.�

�I would be happy to help,� I said, meaning it.

�Oh, I know you would, but I have already taken more than enough of your time. This really is my challenge, and what I see as my responsibility. Maureen has been a friend of mine for a long time, probably my closest lady friend, and I would be remiss if I did not try to find out what is going on.�

�May I make a suggestion?�

Lily smiled. �Well, of course you can; all ideas are welcome.�

�I assume many of your friends have vacation homes, be they in Florida, or California, the Caribbean, or even Europe. It could be worth checking to see if Maureen might be staying at one of those retreats, since you�ve told me that she doesn�t have a getaway place that she owns.�

�An excellent thought,� she said, sighing. �It seems that I have a lot on my plate right now, by choice. I am going to begin my own version of sleuthing tomorrow, and I hope to live up to your high standards, Detective Goodwin.�

�I have no doubt you are ready for the challenge. Just know that I�m available if needed,� I told her as we pulled up in front of her building and embraced.

The next morning, I parked at my desk in the office finishing my last cup of breakfast coffee when the elevator doors in the hall opened and Nero Wolfe strode into the office, right on time at 11:03. He placed a raceme of purple miltonia in the vase on his blotter and settled into the reinforced chair built to handle his weight.

�Good morning, Archie, did you sleep well?� he asked as he rang for beer.

�I did, the usual five hundred ten minutes. As you can see, I�ve stacked the morning delivery from the post office on your desk. Nothing particularly interesting.�

Wolfe flipped through the pile of mostly junk mail and scowled as Fritz Brenner brought in two bottles of chilled Remmers and a stein on a tray, placed the array in front of his boss, and returned to the kitchen.

After he had taken his first healthy drink of beer, I spoke to my employer: �Miss Rowan is highly troubled at the moment.�

�Indeed?� he said, eyebrows climbing halfway up his forehead. �And why would that be?�

Although Wolfe avoids the company of women whenever possible, he makes a marked exception for Lily Rowan. His affinity for her stems from their first meeting years ago when she asked if she could see his ten thousand orchids in the climate-controlled greenhouse on the roof of the brownstone. Since then he has sent her orchids from his collection every year on her birthday. And she is one of the few females who has shared dinner at his table � and on several occasions.

I proceeded to describe the Maureen Carr situation in detail, and when I had finished, Wolfe leaned back, interlacing his fingers over his middle mound. �You showed admirable restraint in stepping aside and allowing Miss Rowan to conduct her investigation unfettered,� he said. �She is an independent individual and needs to be treated as such.�

�I have known that about her for years,� I said. �She is aware that I will be around if needed, but for now, I plan to stay on the sidelines.�

Wolfe dipped his chin in what was a sign of approval for my stance. �If at any time you feel she has need for counsel, she will of course be welcome here.� His remark did not surprise me, and I told him we should keep that option open.

We dined that evening on Rusterman�s superb squabs � la muscovite and did not further discuss Maureen Carr�s situation, other than to wonder about her brother.

�It�s worth trying to find him,� I said as we tackled desserts of raspberries in sherry cream (Lily) and blueberry pie � la mode (me).

�I agree, but I have absolutely no idea where to start. Now that my own foray into the world of detecting has proven to be less than satisfactory, I�m willing to let you have a go at the shadowy Everett Carr.�

�You gave it a good try, my dear, and sometimes the things you don�t learn can be as valuable is the ones you do. Can you recall anything Maureen ever said that might be of help regarding her brother?�

�I can�t at the moment, but I will ask the other women in our group, although I�m not optimistic about getting any results.�

�Give it a try, tomorrow if possible, and get back to me.�

Saul Panzer had described the YMCA well. In the hundreds of times I had passed it, I never paid much attention, but this was one big, impressive structure, especially for a place that was essentially a poor man�s hotel � although by no means, as Saul had stressed, a flophouse.

That afternoon, after Wolfe had gone up to the plant rooms to play with his �concubines,� as he refers to the orchids, I took a short walk to the Thirty-Fourth Street entrance of the Y. It was fronted by a green canopy, which lent a further degree of dignity to the building.

I stood near the door and stopped a sixtyish and slightly stooped man as he came out. �Pardon me, sir, but I�m looking for someone who��

�I got no time, no time at all,� he cut me off, walking east.

Next, I approached a stocky chap of about forty who wore a battered fedora and a windbreaker and was about to enter the building. �Pardon me, sir, but I have a question.�

�Yeah?� He looked me up and down and shrugged. �Well-dressed guy like you panhandling? Well, I haven�t got a red cent on me, so just forget it.�

�That�s not my question, sir. I wonder if you know an Everett Carr who might live here?�

He shrugged again and frowned. �You know him?�

�No, but a friend told me to look him up when I came to town. Said he might be able to show me around.�

�You sure that he lives here?�

�My friend thought so, but he wasn�t positive.�

�Well... there is an Everett down the hall from me, but I�ve never known his last name. That might be him. Everett�s not a very common moniker, you know.�

�Maybe you can introduce us,� I said.

�Not likely, Mac. I heard at lunch earlier this week that he hasn�t been seen for days. The guy who said that lives next door to him. He was damned puzzled and told me that Everett never said anything about going away.�

�What kind of fellow is Everett?�

�Sounds to me like you don�t know a lot about him.�

�I really don�t.�

�Well, he�s... unusual, I guess you would say. I really can�t say I know Everett all that well, but��

�Say, how about I buy you a cup of coffee or a beer � your choice?�

His square face broke into a grin. �I wouldn�t say no to a glass of beer.�

�Is there a good saloon nearby?� I asked, playing dumb as would befit a visitor to the city.

�Just around the corner on Ninth Avenue,� he said, and in less time that it takes to hail a taxi at Grand Central, we were on stools in Gabby�s, a watering hole I had passed many times.

�I�m Alf,� my new friend said, pumping my hand vigorously as the bartender placed two frosty glasses of Rheingold in front of us. �I�m really Alfred, a name I�ve never liked, but after that poor sap Alf Landon got steamrolled by FDR in the election some years back, I got tagged with the name by my Democratic friends, who thought that I had voted for Landon. I hadn�t.�

�I�m Archie,� I replied, trying to look like I was enjoying the beer, which has never been my drink of choice.

�Where you from, Archie?� Alf asked.

�Small town in Ohio,� I said, which technically was not a lie, if you go back a bunch of years. �Tell me about Everett Carr.�

�Oh yeah, I almost forgot. As I said before, I really didn�t know him well. He was a hard guy to get close to.�

�How so?�

Alf screwed up his face. �Often, several of us would gather downstairs in the coffee shop and shoot the breeze, you know? A lot of the bunch I hang around with at the Y have led, well... somewhat bumpy lives, and we talked about our experiences. Good for the soul, they say. Anyway, Everett never, not even once, has said anything about his past, or anything else to do with him. Whenever somebody asked him a question about himself, he changed the subject. I can�t tell if it�s shyness, or what. Didn�t your friend say anything to you about Everett?�

�No, just that I should look him up. He wasn�t even positive Everett Carr lived at the Y, so maybe he really is a man of mystery.�

�He sure is as far as I�m concerned. The only thing I can tell you about him is that he must like to play the ponies, because more than once I�ve seen him carrying the Daily Racing Form.�

�Maybe the reason he doesn�t say much around your bunch is that he�s embarrassed about his gambling.�

�Hah!� Alf said, dismissing my idea with the wave of a hand. �Archie, compared to some of the things we have told one another about our lives and what we�ve done, gambling on the horses is kid stuff.�

�Do you know anything else about him, anything at all?�

�Not really,� Alf said as he drank beer and licked his lips. �Except that one time at our lunch counter, he was paying the cashier for his sandwich and I was right behind him getting ready to pay myself. I happened to notice that when he opened his wallet, it looked like he had a stack of double sawbucks in there.�

�Maybe he�d had a good day at the track, or with a bookie,� I ventured.

�Yeah, I suppose,� Alf said. �You don�t often see that kind of dough in the Y. Hey!� he said, looking up at the clock behind the bar. �The time sort of got away from me. I�ve got me a stint at one of the Broadway theaters as an usher. Puts some walking-around money in my pocket, you know? I got to get up to my room and change into a white shirt and tie so I look good to the swells who�re spending all that big money on their seats down near the stage. �Course, I get to see the show, too, from in the back. After a few nights, though, it gets pretty boring.�

�Well, I appreciate your time, Alf,� I said.

�Hey, it�s me who should be doing the appreciating,� he said. �Thanks again for the beer, Archie. And I�m sure sorry I couldn�t tell you more about Everett. Nobody can figure out where he could have gone.�

�Maybe he hit it really big at the races and decided to move to a place up on Park Avenue.�

Alf laughed. �Somehow, I doubt it. Them racetracks, they got the odds stacked against you. Say, if I run into Everett, I�ll tell him you came by to see him. Is there some place I can get hold of you?�

�No, because I�ll be going back home to Ohio tomorrow. Thanks anyway, Alf.�

The next morning after Wolfe had gone up to the plant rooms, I called Lily. �Did you find out anything about Maureen�s brother from Sofia?� I asked.

�I was just about to call you, and I am sorry to say that the maid seemed to know nothing about Everett, other than Maureen having once mentioned him having a birthday. Sofia said she had never seen the man, and she didn�t think he and Maureen were at all close.�

�I didn�t fare much better than you,� I told her, proceeding to describe my trip to the YMCA and my meeting with Alf.

�Well, at least you learned something about him,� Lily said. �He�s very withdrawn, or at least private, he plays the horses, and he has been seen carrying around a wad of money. The part about gambling on the horses isn�t a total surprise, given that Gazette clipping you told me about.�

�You have given me an idea.�

�Care to share it?�

�Not just yet, but I assure you I will if things develop the way I hope they do.�

�Ah, ever the man of mystery.�

�No, not mystery, just bafflement. I may end up jousting with windmills, but anything is better than just sitting on my hands.�

When Wolfe came down from the roof and rang for beer, I turned to face him. �I have a problem,� I said.

�Go on.�

I proceeded to describe my day�s activities and concluded by saying, �I want to hire Saul, Fred, and Orrie to canvass all the bookie joints in town. And I will pay them out of my own funds.�

�You will not!� Wolfe barked as he opened the first of two bottles of Remmers that Fritz had brought in. �I salute your desire to learn the whereabouts of Miss Rowan�s friend and that of her brother, with the two occurrences likely connected. Unless you or Miss Rowan voices an objection, I propose we join forces on this gest.�

�If gest means what I think it does, I believe Miss Rowan will find the idea interesting.�

�First, you are free to look up the definition of the word in any of the dictionaries on our shelves. Second, we should not proceed until you discuss my proposal with Miss Rowan.�

Wolfe had thrown me for a loop. I know he is somewhat fond of Lily, an exception to his usual attitude regarding women. But I hadn�t expected him to suggest his taking an active role in the search for Maureen and Everett Carr.

�One, I�ll take your word regarding the definition of gest. Two, I will telephone Lily, and I can guarantee that she will want to pay you.�

�Please call her now.�

I dialed a number I knew well, and Lily answered on the first ring. �Mr. Wolfe would like to speak to you,� I said, nodding to Wolfe, who picked up his instrument while I stayed on the line.

�Miss Rowan, this is Nero Wolfe. Archie has kept me apprised of developments in your search for Maureen Carr and her brother, including your conversations with her consorts. I offer my services in this endeavor, and I may be of some assistance.�

�I am delighted to hear that, Mr. Wolfe, and I will of course reimburse you for your time and effort.�

�Reimbursement is not necessary, Miss Rowan. I have no cases at present, and my financial condition is secure. In fact, additional income at this time would place me in a different tax bracket, and I would be penalized by the Internal Revenue Service for earning more, irrational as that may sound.�

Not only was that irrational, it was incorrect, but I was not about to contradict my boss. He wanted to help Lily, and I was damned if I was going to get in his way.

�All right, Mr. Wolfe,� Lily said. �I am going to accept your very kind offer. How should we proceed?�

�Archie will fill you in on our plans.�

After Wolfe hung up, abrupt as usual, I told Lily the program. �And you really want me to be present?� she said, surprised.

�Definitely. After all, you are the client. We will meet tonight at nine, assuming everyone can be present. I hope you are available at such late notice.�

�I will make myself available,� Lily said.

Chasing became the operative word for Lily and me, starting the next day. After breakfast, I went to her apartment and we sat in the morning room with coffee and tried to figure out who she might have overlooked among Maureen�s friends and acquaintances.

�I know that you have talked to her closest friends, the ones both of you are in that group with,� I told her. �And you also have met with the men she has been with most recently. Who does that leave?� I spread my hands, palms up.

Lily thought for several seconds before speaking. �Well, I probably should get in touch with the people who head the organizations Maureen has been most closely involved with.�

�They are...?�

�A women�s and children�s aid society, a home for unwed mothers, and an orphanage. I hate to see you and Mr. Wolfe spend so much time with this. I feel like I�ve pushed both of you into my problem.�

�First, you never pushed me into this; I have jumped in with both feet, ready to help. And nobody ever pushes Nero Wolfe into anything he doesn�t want to do, either literally or figuratively. Now about the people who run these groups � I assume they are all women.�

�They are, and I know each of them fairly well,� Lily said. �I�m afraid I will have to tell them about Maureen�s disappearance, and I really need to talk to them in person.�

�No question whatever. Does that bother you?�

�Oh, a little, but I don�t think we can keep the situation under wraps any longer. Besides, the men whom I talked to about Maureen already know something isn�t right, and it�s just a matter of time before they start calling me to ask what I�ve heard from or about her.�

�Good point. Would you feel comfortable having me along when you talk to these fine women?�

�Oh, Archie, I really am leaning on you, and I�m sorry, but playing detective is certainly not my m�tier.�

�No need to be sorry, and despite what you say, your instincts are good. I think you�d make a good shamus.�

�I assume �shamus� is some sort of a synonym for private eye.�

�Some sort. I�m ready to accompany you to these meetings, assuming you are able to set them up.�

�That should be no problem. I�ll start calling now.�

I went to the next room, which I would describe as a den, to give Lily privacy for her calls. Fifteen minutes later, I was reading the current copy of Time when she walked in and announced that she had set up appointments today for all three of these paragons of good works without telling them the reason for the meetings.

�Weren�t they curious?�

�They were, but I merely told them it was a subject that I preferred not to discuss on the telephone.�

�Now, of course, they are more curious than ever,� I said, laughing. �Who are you talking to first?�

�Emily Ferris; she�s the one who oversees the home for abandoned and orphaned children. She said she could see us there at any time today. I suggested eleven o�clock.�

�Which means we need to get going. Did you tell her that I would be with you?�

�I did, and she was fine with that. She remembers meeting you once.�

�Then she has the better of me. Where�s the orphanage?�

�On the Upper East Side, Eighty-Ninth Street.�

So now we knew almost surely that Maureen had withdrawn a healthy sum from her account at the Continental Bank & Trust Company. I say almost surely because we were relying on the words � or lack thereof � from Mortimer M. Hotchkiss. However, I knew Wolfe felt comfortable in the knowledge that Hotchkiss was playing straight with us. And knowing the banker almost as well as Wolfe does, I also felt he gave us the information we requested without having to utter a single word.

�You need to apprise Miss Rowan of this development,� Wolfe said as he picked up his current book, Crusade in Europe, by Dwight D. Eisenhower.

Lily may not be a fee-paying client, but to Wolfe, she is a client nonetheless, as he was reminding me. I called her and laid out what we had learned from the banker.

I was met with silence for several seconds, and when she spoke, it was in measured and somber tones.

�I do not like what I have heard. Does Mr. Wolfe have an explanation, or a conjecture?�

�Not so far. I�m sure we will be discussing the situation. What are your thoughts?�

�I... I don�t know. Fifty thousand dollars, if that really is the figure; what a lot to withdraw at once. And for what reason?�

�It could take Maureen a lot of places, including around the world on an ocean liner,� I said, trying to lighten the mood. I failed.

�Be serious! Something bad has happened to her, really bad, I am sure of it. I have thought so all along, and now this...�

�As I said, Mr. Wolfe and I are going to talk, and we will let you know what the next moves will be.�

Lily clearly was not satisfied, and I did not blame her.

After we hung up, I swiveled toward to Wolfe. �Lily isn�t happy with what�s happened, as you no doubt could tell from my end of the conversation.�

He set down his book and scowled. �What would you have me do?� he demanded.

�You are the genius in this operation. Figure something out.�

�Pfui. I will not be badgered!�

�Way back in the dark ages, you hired me to be a burr under your saddle, among my other duties. So that�s what I am being � a burr.�

Wolfe�s response was to pick up the book and continue reading. I had been dismissed, a not-unusual occurrence in the office.

When we reached an impasse like this one, I had several options: one, I could go for a walk; two, I could continue to badger Wolfe; or three, I could threaten to resign. As I was mulling these options, the phone jangled and I answered, as usual, �Nero Wolfe�s office, Archie Goodwin speaking.�

�Mr. Goodwin, this is Eric Mason. You may not recall this, but we met briefly at Lily Rowan�s penthouse last year, where she was having a cocktail benefit for one of her charities.�

�Yes, I do remember you, Mr. Mason. You�re with the ad agency Gordon and Grove, and Lily has told me you have won a lot of creative awards.�

�You have a good memory, and you are too kind. I know from Lily that you work for Nero Wolfe, and I would, uh... like to hire him.�

�Really? May I ask for what purpose?�

�To find the woman I intend to marry � Maureen Carr.�

That stopped me in my tracks. �What do you know about Miss Carr at present?�

�I am aware, of course, that she has disappeared. And you probably know that Lily came to see me recently to ask if I had any idea where she was.�

�Yes, I do know that she talked to you. And you told her you couldn�t imagine where she had gone.�

�That is correct, and I have been unable to reach Maureen for more than two weeks now. Also, no one I have talked to who knows her has any clue as to where she is.�

�You may be aware that Mr. Wolfe charges extremely high rates for his services.�

�So I have heard, and I am confident that I can afford those rates.�

�I do not doubt that, but I am unsure of Mr. Wolfe�s willingness to take on your assignment.�

�I would like to come to his office � I know he rarely leaves home � and talk to him face-to-face.�

�I will have to confer with Mr. Wolfe. Please give me the best telephone number where I can reach you.�

Mason gave me a number and asked, �When am I likely to hear from him � or you?�

�I can�t say for sure, but I promise I will do my best to give you a response within a day or so.�

He started to impress upon me the urgency of his request, and I said that everyone who wants to employ Nero Wolfe is in a hurry. I finally had to tell him I had other business and terminated the call.

�Well, I just got thrown a curveball,� I told Wolfe, or whoever that was hiding behind the Eisenhower memoir.

He put the book down. �Another of your time-worn baseball aphorisms. Very well, report.� He sighed.

I recounted verbatim my conversation with Eric Mason, which was hardly a challenge, given its brevity. �So here is a potential client, and a very prosperous one,� I concluded.

�I already have a client!� he barked.

�You do only if you have decided you are going the pro bono route,� I countered. �You often have told me how much money it takes to support this operation, and as I am the keeper of the checkbook and of our financial records, I am well aware of the cash flow necessary to keep this grand old building afloat.�

�I am committed to Miss Rowan � you of all people should know that.�

�And I am pleased that you are, for both professional and personal reasons. However, it appears that both she and Eric Mason have the same goal, the locating of Maureen Carr. I hardly think Lily would object if the two of them became �joint clients,� with one paying the freight.�

Wolfe leaned back, closed his eyes, and spread his arms out on the desk, palms down. �I know little about this man, other than what has been reported and described by both you and Miss Rowan.�

�You have nothing whatever to lose by seeing him. If he doesn�t measure up to your standards, then, okay, consider that he�s out of the picture. And if he seems to you to be a decent sort, then you can ask Miss Rowan if she has any objection to his being a co-client.�

Wolfe doesn�t like it when I argue with him, but he knows I am his equal in stubbornness, if that�s even a word. He said nothing for several beats, then drew in a bushel of air, exhaled, and said, �Very well. Communicate with Mr. Mason and tell him to be here at nine p.m. tonight.�

I dialed the number he had given to me, and on the first ring, he crisply said, �Mason here.�

�Archie Goodwin on this end. Nero Wolfe can see you at nine tonight.� I gave him our address.

�I hoped that was you calling. Excellent. Is there anything I should be prepared for?�

�Just that you will have some questions tossed your way, probably quite a batch of them. How you answer will depend on whether you will become a client, not to put too much pressure on you.�

Mason chuckled. �Hey, I�m in the ad business, Mr. Goodwin, which is nothing if not a pressure cooker. If I couldn�t handle it, I would have been out on my tail a long time ago.�

�See you at nine. Be prompt,� I told him.

In the next half hour, Saul, Fred, and Orrie all checked in, and none of them reported having any success at all in learning more about Everett Carr from the bookies they had visited. I told each of them to cease any further work until they heard back from me.

The next night, Eric Mason arrived at the brownstone at eight thirty-five. �You are even earlier than before,� I told him as I swung open the front door and he entered.

�That is by design,� he responded as I took his coat and hung it up. �I would like to speak to you and Mr. Wolfe without Lily Rowan being present.�

I didn�t question his reason as I walked him down the hall. Wolfe looked up from his book when we entered the office and then glanced at the clock on the wall with a questioning expression.

�I know that I am early, Mr. Wolfe,� Mason said as I steered him to one of the yellow chairs. �The reason is that I want you to know I�m perfectly comfortable with Lily Rowan not paying any of the fee for your search for Maureen. I realize both of you have a special relationship with Lily, and I know her well enough to recognize that she is an individual of sterling character. I am happy to be partnering with her.�

�We are in agreement in our appraisal of Miss Rowan,� Wolfe said, drinking beer and showing no irritation at having been interrupted in his reading. �She has been a welcome visitor in this house for many years. Would you like something to drink?�

Mason grinned and nodded as I asked, �The usual?�

Just as our guest was settled with a scotch, the doorbell rang again, and I went to admit Lily. �Mr. Mason already is here,� I told her, �but I have reserved the red leather chair for you as befits your station.�

�How very gallant,� she said as I took her coat and we went to the office. As Lily clicked in, garbed in stylish pumps and a robin�s-egg blue dress, Mason snapped to his feet like an enlisted man at the arrival of a full-bird colonel. Wolfe remained seated as is his wont when visitors of either gender enter his haven.

After Lily got seated at the end of his desk and crossed curvaceous legs, Wolfe asked if she wanted something to drink.

�Would it be gauche to ask for a sherry this long after I have had dinner?�

�Not in this house,� Wolfe responded as I went to the cart and found the bottle, pouring a dram of the requested nectar into the proper glass. As I set it down on the small table next to Lily, I got one of those smiles that invariably accelerates my heart rate.

Enough from me. It was time for Wolfe to call the meeting to order.

�Thank you for coming tonight,� he said. �One advantage of having both of you in this venture is that you come from different perspectives as far as our missing woman is concerned. Before we continue, Mr. Mason, you need to know what we have learned about Miss Carr�s recent financial activity.� Wolfe went on to summarize her withdrawal of funds from the bank.

�So, at least fifty grand?� Mason said, exhaling a whistle. �Any idea what the reason is?�

�None at the moment, sir. Let me ask each of you: Does Miss Carr travel frequently, and if so, what are her destinations?�

Lily responded first. �She has always liked the Caribbean � Puerto Rico, Jamaica, the Virgin Islands, Aruba. I don�t think there is any one resort she�s particularly fond of. She says she likes to try new places down there. Although, come to think of it, I believe that she has stayed in Old San Juan more than once.�

�We have never traveled together, either abroad or in the US,� Mason put in, �but she has stayed on several occasions at my summer place in the Hamptons, which she likes. And as for trips, she seems partial to Italy, especially the lakes, Como and the others.�

�Who wouldn�t be?� Lily laughed.

�Has Miss Carr traveled with friends?� Wolfe asked. �And has she ever stayed in facilities owned by acquaintances?�

�She has gone to the islands on occasion with two or three of the women who are in our social group, but no one of them owns a resort home down there.�

Wolfe shifted to Mason. �To your knowledge, does she have friends living in the Italian lake country?�

�If she does, she has never mentioned it to me, and I believe she would have.�

�Let us move on to Maureen Carr�s brother,� Wolfe said. �I regret to report that we have learned very little about the man�s activities. Miss Rowan already has been given what facts have been unearthed, and, Mr. Mason, I will let Archie tell you what he and our other operatives have found.�

I took Mason through my meeting with Alf, Everett Carr�s fellow roomer at the Sloane YMCA, as well as our discoveries that Carr was obsessed with betting on the horses and that he was a lousy handicapper.

�A millionaire living at the Y and dressing like a bum?� Mason said. �No wonder Maureen doesn�t talk about him.�

�We�re assuming that he�s still a millionaire,� I countered, �although the way he seems to be throwing away money on the ponies, his pot of gold may very well have dwindled.�

�Have you ever met Everett?� Mason asked Lily.

�No, and Maureen has barely mentioned him to me. I don�t know whether she�s ashamed of him, or if she simply doesn�t know enough about him and what he�s doing to have anything to say.�

Mason turned to Wolfe. �What are your thoughts?�

�The man clearly has no interest in familial relations or in having anything that resembles a conventional life. We know from this Alf individual and from bookmakers that he has been known to carry large sums on his person, which could make him a robbery target. Also, one who consorts with professional gamblers, that is, bookies, runs the constant risk of hostility.�

�You mean if he were to welsh on a bet, for example?� Mason posed.

Wolfe shrugged. �Perhaps. I am not familiar with the niceties of the wagerer, although through the years, Mr. Goodwin and I have run into numerous cases in which gambling debts and other disputes over money have escalated into violence, sometimes with fatal results.�

�So you are suggesting that Carr�s disappearance may be because of some sort of wager that went bad?�

�I am suggesting nothing, sir, only pointing out the perils associated with gambling. Miss Rowan, do you possess recent photographs of Maureen Carr and her brother?�

�I don�t, but I am sure I can get one of Maureen, either from her apartment or from one of the organizations where she is a board member. As for Everett, that�s another story altogether. There�s a slim chance I might find one at Maureen�s apartment. Archie, do you remember if there were photos of either of them when we were at her place?�

�The only shot I remember seeing there was one of her taken years ago, with a middle-aged couple I assume were her parents.�

�Why this interest in photographs?� Mason asked.

Wolfe readjusted his bulk. �In addition to Archie, three other operatives in my employ are hunting for Miss Carr and her brother, and each of them needs to be carrying photographs of her as they continue their search.�

�I can go to Maureen�s apartment tomorrow and hunt for photos of her, and I also will see if I can locate one through one of the agencies where she has been active,� Lily said.

�What else should we be doing now?� Mason snapped, pounding a fist into an open palm, a man of action frustrated.

�At present, nothing,� Wolfe responded evenly. �I know we all wish to be active, but haste often leads to unwise moves.�

I told Wolfe that Lily had gotten Sofia to overcome her reluctance and would deliver her to us. He nodded his approval and then returned to his book. Heaven forbid that the man should have to expend energy by exercising his vocal cords.

Other than the upcoming 9:00 p.m. meeting, the only other activity that day relating to the case was when Saul, Fred, and Orrie dropped by together to pick up photographs of Maureen. Similar to the suggestion I had made to Orrie earlier, Saul had drawn up a plan in which each of the three of them would be assigned to canvass a specific location, such as Penn Station. Sure, this plan was a long shot at best, but we did not have a lot else going for us.

Lily, with Sofia in tow, rang the doorbell at eight fifty-five, and as usual I acted as greeter. �Hello, sir,� Sofia said to me, wearing a somber expression and looking like she would rather be anywhere but at an old brownstone on West Thirty-Fifth Street.

I put their coats on the hall hanger and led them into the office, where at my direction Lily took the red leather chair and Sofia sat primly on the front edge of one of the yellow ones that faced the unoccupied desk. Within seconds, Wolfe walked in, detoured around said desk, and sat. If Sofia was surprised by his bulk, she did not show it. But Lily surely had prepared her for the experience of meeting him.

Once seated, Wolfe dipped his head in his guests� direction, then asked if Sofia and Lily would like something to drink. They both declined.

�Thank you very much for sparing the time to come here tonight, madam,� Wolfe said. �I will try not to take too long.� Sofia nodded but said nothing.

�How long have you been in Miss Carr�s employ?�

�Almost three years.�

�You must know her quite well then. Would you say she is a good person to work for?�

�Yes... a very nice lady, very nice.�

�Does she travel a good deal?�

�Maybe... two times a year, maybe three sometimes.�

�When Miss Carr does leave home, where does she go, Mrs. Jurek? Does she have favorite locations where she takes vacations?�

Sofia frowned, as if thinking. �She often likes to go to places where it is warm. When she comes home, she is... brown.�

�Ah, tanned, I see,� Wolfe said. �How long is she gone on these trips?�

Another frown. �Two weeks, sometimes longer.�

�And does she always tell you when she will be going away?�

�Oh yes, always.�

�But not this time, Mrs. Jurek?�

�No... not this time,� she replied in a subdued voice and shook her head.

�Do you have any idea at all where she might have gone on this occasion?�

�No, I have told them� � she looked at Lily and then at me � �that she did not say anything to me about going away. I am very worried about Miss Carr.�

�A natural reaction,� Wolfe said. �Did she take a lot of clothing with her?�

�She has so many clothes. Miss Rowan and I went through her closets, but we could not tell how much was missing.� She looked at Lily, who nodded and smiled.

�Had Miss Carr ever been married?�

�Yes... before I began working for her.�

�Have you ever met her former husband?�

Sofia shook her head. It was clear that this questioning was difficult for her, but Wolfe pushed on.

�In the days before Miss Carr disappeared, did you notice any changes in her mood?�

�Mood... I do not know that word.�

�Her behavior. Did she seem different in any way? You have been around Miss Carr a good deal over the last three years, so you must be familiar with how she acts, how she behaves.�

Sofia was silent for close to a half minute. When she spoke, it was once again in a voice that could barely be heard. �The last time I saw her, she seemed the same, although maybe a little quieter.�

�Would you say that she was sad?�

�I don�t... think so. Just quiet, like she was thinking.�

�Who would you say Miss Carr�s best friends are?�

�Miss Rowan is one,� she said, turning to Lily. �And Miss Evans and Mrs. Hart.�

�That would be Donna Evans and Cordelia Hart,� Lily put in. �They are part of a group Maureen and I are in, and I have talked to both of them about Maureen�s disappearance. They are every bit as puzzled as I am.�

�I believe you were present during some of the social events at Miss Carr�s residence.�

�Yes, sir. I helped to serve the food and the drinks,� Sofia answered.

�Are you collecting Miss Carr�s mail for her?� Wolfe asked.

�Yes, I am.�

�Have you opened any of it?�

Sofia jerked upright as if she had been slapped. �No! I would never do that!�

�Tell me about the mail.�

She gave a sort of shrug, or really more a hunching, of her narrow shoulders. �I haven�t looked at any of it,� she said in a defensive tone.

�Some of that mail may be important to Miss Carr, or important in finding her,� Wolfe said. �I suggest you give all of it to Miss Rowan. You trust her, don�t you?�

�Yes, but...�

�But what?�

Sofia clenched small fists and shivered. I felt the young woman was getting stretched to the limit of her endurance. �All right... Miss Rowan can take all of the mail,� she said.

�We are not going to open that mail, Mrs. Jurek, just study it. Do you have any other thoughts about what might have caused Miss Carr to leave home so abruptly?� Wolfe asked.

Realizing she was nearing the end of what she felt was an ordeal, Sofia exhaled and seemed to relax slightly. �No, sir, I do not have any other thoughts about... about what has happened to Miss Carr. I am sorry that I cannot be of help.�

Wolfe rose without a word and walked out of the office as Sofia watched him with puzzlement. �Another of your boss�s abrupt exits,� Lily remarked. �He�s famous for them, of course.�

�If famous is the right word,� I replied. �Mrs. Jurek, I echo Mr. Wolfe�s thanks for your coming here. You were most patient.�

�Sofia, if you go to the hall and get your coat, I�ll be along shortly,� Lily said. �I need to talk to Mr. Goodwin.� The young woman couldn�t get out of the office fast enough, and as she exited, Lily turned to me.

�Seems to me that he was a little rough on her,� she observed, �or maybe curt is a better word.�

�Tact has never been one of Wolfe�s strong suits,� I conceded, �as you well know.�

�And on top of that, he did not get much out of Sofia, as far as I could tell.�

�Agreed. I don�t think there was a lot of gold to be mined there. Will you get Maureen�s mail for us?�

�I will, although I�m not sure how any of it will help us find her.�

�Neither am I, but it can�t hurt to take a look at it � unopened, of course.�

�You will have it tomorrow,� Lily said. �And we should bring Eric Mason up to speed on this development, or lack of a development. After all, he is a client, and the paying one, at that.�

�We will reach out to Mason,� I told her as I walked her to the hall, where Sofia was nervously waiting to get sprung.

The next morning, Lily called and said she was coming over with Maureen�s mail. I then called Eric Mason and filled him in on Sofia�s visit to the brownstone and Wolfe�s interrogation of her.

�I really should have been present,� the ad man had grumped.

�You would have found the evening to be a colossal waste of time. One thing Wolfe requested at that time was to get Maureen�s mail, which has been stacking up at her place. Lily Rowan is bringing it here this morning. You�re welcome to come over when we take a look at it, although we don�t plan to open it.�

�When is Lily coming to your place?�

�At eleven, the same time Mr. Wolfe comes into the office from the plant rooms.�

�I will be there.�

Mason and Lily arrived within a minute of each other, and both were seated in the office when Wolfe came in, eyed both of them, placed a raceme of yellow Odontoglossum in the vase on his desk, and rang for beer.

�I have brought Maureen�s mail,� Lily told him from the red leather chair, which Mason had graciously insisted she take. �It�s in this paper bag,� she said as she handed it to Wolfe.

�I had expected more,� he said, opening the bag, pulling a two-inch-high pile of items out, and stacking them on his blotter.

Wolfe riffled through them. �A probable statement from Continental Bank and Trust, fat sales flyers from four stores, including Saks and Bloomingdale�s, likely invoices from Saks and Lord and Taylor, and envelopes bearing the return addresses of a number of charities, including Breast Cancer Research, Women�s Rights Organization, and a Manhattan orphanage.�

�Maureen is on the boards of all those groups,� Lily said, �and these probably are notifications of upcoming meetings. In fact, there was a meeting of the WRO last week that I attended, and Maureen�s absence was remarked on because she so rarely misses attending these sessions.�

Wolfe scowled and pushed the mail aside as if it were contaminated. �Nothing here adds to our knowledge concerning Miss Carr�s whereabouts, although I had suspected this was what Archie calls a long shot.� He turned to Lily. �Nonetheless, you should continue to monitor the woman�s mail, and you can return this batch to her residence.�

I knew Wolfe was at a loss and was flailing about, which is never a pretty sight. Lily and Eric Mason rose to leave, and I escorted them down the hall. �It seems like we�re at a dead end,� Mason said in a dejected tone. �I�m supposed to have a creative mind, but I�ll be damned if I have any suggestions as to what we should be doing next.�

�I feel exactly the same way,� Lily added in a tone meant to mollify the advertising whiz. �I can�t remember ever being this frustrated.�

�The good news is,� I told them, �that Nero Wolfe does not have the word surrender in his vocabulary. I realize the situation at the moment seems bleak, but we�ve been in worse spots than this before, and he invariably pulls the proverbial rabbit out of the hat.� I knew I sounded like a cheerleader trying to exude a confidence I did not at the moment possess.

They both must have sensed my underlying doubts, because neither of them seemed cheered by my little sermon as they left the brownstone wearing somber expressions.

When I got back to the office, Wolfe was in the process of cradling his telephone receiver. I gave him a questioning look, and he said, �I have just given Saul an assignment, and it may be of some help to us. I am a lackwit for not thinking of it before this.�

When he shared with me the subject of his conversation with Saul Panzer, I was inclined to agree that he was a lackwit, but then, that made me one as well. And Wolfe told me that Saul was himself chagrined.

Speaking of Saul, he knows well the daily schedule at the brownstone, so it was not surprising that he telephoned, saying he wanted to stop by at six, which is of course when Wolfe rides the elevator down from the plant rooms. �I have got some atoning to do, and the sooner the better,� he told me.

�Well, we now know a little more about Maureen Carr than before,� I said to Wolfe. �Your thoughts?�

�Why would she go to Albany, if that is where she really went? Do you see any significance in that?�

�Other than that it�s the state capital, I have no idea. I�ve only passed through, and it�s not a very large burg. I don�t know the population, but it would be a lot smaller if you subtracted all the politicians.�

Wolfe scowled at my attempt at humor and began going through the morning mail that I had stacked on his blotter.

�Now that we�ve learned by which route Maureen left town, shouldn�t I have Saul call off the boys � and himself? No need to be watching stations and airports anymore. And the expenses are piling up.�

�Yes, by all means, have them stop. I am sure we will have chores for them later.�

The next morning as I was at my desk with coffee after breakfast, Wolfe called from his bedroom. �Telephone Saul,� he said, �and see if he can be here this morning at eleven.�

�Do I tell him what it�s about?�

�No, we will leave that until he is here,� Wolfe said, hanging up abruptly. The man has never learned phone etiquette and never will. I reached Saul Panzer on the first try, and he also was curious as to the reason for the summons, but I told him he would just have to wait, because I was in the dark, as is often the case.

Both our clients left the brownstone that morning frustrated, but they were hardly alone. The three of us � Wolfe, Saul, and I � were also far from satisfied. For several seconds after their departure, no one spoke. Finally, Wolfe said, �Archie, get Fred and Orrie here at three. Saul, I assume you can also be present at that time.�

�Yes, sir, I can.�

That was Wolfe at his finger-snapping best. Give an order, and expect it to be carried out, without question. But then, I follow orders � most of the time. In this case, I was able to deliver, and the trio of operatives sat in the office at three with drinks, awaiting direction.

Wolfe summarized the situation, admitting a lack of progress. �We don�t know where Maureen Carr is, we don�t know where her brother is, and we also don�t know the identity of the man Miss Carr met with in Albany, call him Mr. X.�

�I wasn�t very successful up there,� Saul said. �I will pay for that trip myself, to atone for my failure.�

�Nonsense!� Wolfe snapped. �You did not have a lot to go on. I would like to learn the identity of Mr. X, which may allow us to break this logjam. I propose, if you are willing, that all three of you go to Albany, armed with photographs of Miss Carr, and spread out, combing the city and its environs.

�Go into establishments there, primarily restaurants and bars, and learn if anyone can identify Mr. X. I concede this is a challenge, but Miss Carr and this man apparently were together for between one and two hours. It is likely they were seen, and it also is likely, although by no means sure, that one of those individuals who observed the pair might be able to identify Miss Carr�s escort, who may well be a denizen of Albany. And each of you probably should rent an automobile to assist in your search.�

�I�m game,� Saul said. �What about you two?�

�Count me in,� Durkin answered. �They must have gone someplace to eat � or drink.�

�Or both,� Orrie chimed in. �Is Archie going, too?�

As I mentioned before, Orrie Cather always has been interested in what my role will be in a case, because he is convinced that he would fit nicely into my role as Wolfe�s assistant.

�I have assignments for Archie here, Orrie,� Wolfe replied. �I believe the three of you are an adequate force to cover Albany and the surrounding area. I expect daily reports from you, Saul.�

�What if we learn the guy�s identity? Do we try to find him?� Orrie asked.

�Not yet,� Wolfe said. �Telephone for instructions.� That settled, the boys departed and Saul said they would leave for Albany that afternoon.

�The expense accounts for this project will be hefty,� I told Wolfe.

�So far, these trips have only been to Albany. It is not as if we are putting people on airplanes to California or Florida,� he said.

�True. And Eric Mason seems ready and eager to provide whatever funds are needed, so I suppose I shouldn�t worry. Do you honestly believe that one among our stalwart trio will learn the identity of our Mr. X?�

�You have said you like long shots, Archie.�

�True, it�s always entertaining to see a fifty-to-one horse win a race. But I would never bet those odds myself. All right, what do we do now?�

�We wait to look at Miss Carr�s mail, another long shot.�

Wolfe was frustrated, and so was I, for that matter. But I failed to see how looking at unopened mail could possibly help us. As if on cue, Lily telephoned, and I told Wolfe to pick up his phone. �I have Maureen�s mail, Archie. When would you like me to bring it over?�

�I am about to visit the orchids, Miss Rowan, but you can bring it here anytime,� Wolfe said.

Lily told us she would come now, which was jake with me. Her presence would give me a lift, and I needed one.

Wolfe sighed. �It is time for yet another meeting with Saul, Fred, and Orrie, who should have recovered from their Albany expedition,� he said, omitting the words you will arrange it for eleven o�clock tomorrow. But then, I understood precisely what he meant without his having to be specific.

�Well, that was one colossal waste of time,� I said to Wolfe when I got back to the office after seeing Hirsch and his tight-lipped sidekick � or bodyguard � Everts out.

�I must disagree, Archie. Mr. Hirsch is now on his guard, which I had intended. He is aware that we have been delving into his activities, and his discomfort upon learning this tonight was manifest.�

�I must have missed that discomfort.�

�He was not the same man when he left as when he entered. He appears to be staying at his New York residence for the present, and I would like to ensure that he is under surveillance � and that he is aware of it.�

�I gather you want tails put on him.�

�I do. The cost is immaterial, as I will absorb that expense if Mr. Mason deems it to be exorbitant.�

�Do you want Hirsch to be dogged around the clock?�

�Not quite. Let�s leave the man alone between, say, two a.m. and eight a.m. Also, I don�t want to use Saul, Fred, or Orrie on this project, as they may be needed elsewhere.�

�We have not called on Del Bascom and his operation lately. Of course, his operatives can�t hold a tail as well as Saul, but then, nobody can. They would still be my first choice.�

�Mine as well,� Wolfe agreed. �Telephone Mr. Bascom and discover what can be arranged. If he has men available, have them begin a surveillance of Mr. Hirsch�s New York residence, noting when he leaves and returns. The surveillance need not be covert.�

When I had told Mason that the individual we�d send to the Riviera would be all business, I knew Wolfe was going to suggest Saul Panzer, and I was right. We both knew Saul never wasted time on a job, although he might appreciate the surroundings. We also realized that if we were to send Orrie Cather, there was the risk that he would find all manner of diversions on the beaches of the Mediterranean and would take his time returning to New York. I told our other client, Lily Rowan, that Saul was headed to France, and she approved.

Within hours and armed with instructions, Saul had booked himself on one of the newly launched overnight flights to Paris with a connecting plane to Nice. He seemed to approve of the assignment, but then, who wouldn�t? A couple of days away from New York�s early spring weather was always welcome.

But before leaving for Europe, Saul told Orrie he was in charge of keeping watch on the Greenwich Village building around the clock, which meant hiring one of Bascom�s men to join Fred and Orrie on the twenty-four-hour surveillance.

�Think it�s worth paying to have that place watched all the time?� I asked Wolfe. �There doesn�t seem to be much going on inside.�

�Normally, I would agree, although something in that building must have interested Mr. Hirsch and his dogsbody.�

�I suppose. Maybe I�m worrying too much about expenses, but if Mason is willing to pony up to send Saul to France, what�s a few bucks on a vigil?�

Just then, the phone squawked, and I started to answer with my usual �Nero Wolfe�s office, Arch�� when I got a �Yeah, yeah, I know the spiel� from Lon Cohen at the Gazette.

�Something just came over the police wire that should interest you,� he said. �A man identified as Everett Carr was found shot dead in a passageway between two buildings in Greenwich Village. If I remember right, and I usually do, you asked for the clips on that very same name sometime back.�

I motioned and Wolfe picked up his receiver. �Any other details?� I asked.

�Carr had been hit, by somebody who pulled the trigger several times, because there were some shell casings on the ground from shots that missed him. He was identified by his wallet. That�s all we have so far.�

�Give me the address.� Lon fed it to me and I thanked him, hanging up and turning to Wolfe. �I�m off,� I said and received the slightest of nods in return.

The early edition of the Gazette, an evening paper, usually hits our front stoop a little after noon, and this day was no exception. I brought it in and found the item, headlined �Man Shot Dead in the Village,� on page four. The five-paragraph piece added nothing to what we already knew. I handed the paper to Wolfe, who read the item and made a face. �We will be hearing from our clients, of course,� he said.

�Assuming they get this edition, or if there has been something about the killing on the radio, which is a strong possibility, and�� I was interrupted by the phone.

�Goodwin, I just learned about Maureen�s brother,� Eric Mason said sharply. �What do you know about it?�

�Probably not much more than you do,� I replied, neglecting to tell him I had been on the scene.

�I want to know what you and Wolfe are going to do about this. And more important, have you gotten anywhere on finding Maureen? I have this feeling that nothing is going on.�

I cupped my mouthpiece and whispered to Wolfe, �Mason�s on the line, and he�s hot. Want to talk to him?�

�Hello, Mr. Mason, this is Nero Wolfe.�

�I just told Goodwin that it seems like you have gotten nowhere in finding Maureen. And now, with her brother dead, the situation is worse, it�s dire. Good God, she may not even be alive, for all we know.�

�We have no reason whatever to believe Miss Carr is deceased,� Wolfe said. �And we continue to explore new avenues in locating her.�

�You sound like you are stringing me along.�

�I am sorry you feel that way, sir. If you prefer, we can negate our relationship, which would free you to find other means of attempting to locate the woman.�

There was no response on the line for what seemed like a minute but was less than half that. The silence was broken by a loud exhale, and then, �No... sorry, my nerves were already frayed, and now, with what happened in the Village last night... no, go on with your work.� Mason hung up without waiting for a response.

�I had better call Lily and bring her up to date,� I told Wolfe, who nodded his approval.

�I hope I�m not disturbing something important,� I said after she picked up.

�Not at all, my dear. As you are all too aware, I tend to start my day slowly. I am just now finishing breakfast � a very hearty and delicious breakfast, although probably not of the same quality as you receive each morning from Fritz.�

�Still, I do not think you�re being deprived. I would like to start your day � even though it is after noon � on a positive note, but I have some disturbing news: Maureen�s brother, Everett, was shot dead last night in Greenwich Village.�

�Oh, Archie. What... happened. Who... who did it?�

�Sorry to say we don�t have any answers yet, nor do the police. There apparently were no eyewitnesses. And before you ask, we still don�t have any leads regarding Maureen.�

�I should call Sofia. I haven�t talked to her for a few days, and I�m sure that if she had heard anything, she would have let me know.�

�Good idea to check in with her,� I said. �Let us know what, if anything, you are able to learn.�

After dropping Saul off at his apartment on Thirty-Eighth Street, I got home to find that Fritz had left a note on my desk informing me that Lily had called.

�Goodwin reporting,� I said when she answered.

�I talked to Sofia a little while ago to see how she was,� Lily said in a subdued tone, �and she was extremely upset.�

�Uh-oh. Has she heard from Maureen?�

�If she has, she didn�t say so. No, it is more that she is worried about her husband and his... troubles.�

�What kind of troubles?�

�It seems that Stan has been gambling away his paychecks on the horses.�

�Shades of the late Everett Carr.�

�That occurred to me, too,� Lily said. �It�s possible they may have known each other, although I doubt that they met through Maureen, given that she and her brother have seen so little of each other in recent years.�

�I don�t know a lot about the world of horseplayers, but it�s possible they tend to gravitate toward one another, trading information. And someone, I can�t remember who, told me once that the bookies like to introduce gamblers to one another because it increases their own traffic. Did Sofia say what she plans to do about her husband�s problem?�

�No, but right now she is far more concerned about Stan Jurek�s addiction than about Maureen. I think she�s particularly worried about their financial condition. She says her husband is frittering away money. And right now, she is not contributing because she hasn�t had any income from Maureen for several weeks.�

�Yeah, a tough situation. Has she even talked to him about it?�

�Yes, and according to her, he doesn�t see that he has a problem, and he gets angry whenever she raises the subject.�

�Alcoholics, gamblers, they don�t always recognize or admit reality. I am sorry to hear about this, but it doesn�t help us any in our hunt for Maureen Carr.�

�I know, and I wish I had an idea that might aid us. Did Saul get any inkling from Elaine Musgrove as to why Maureen might have wanted to leave her Park Avenue place and go to Greenwich Village?�

�He did not, although he of course asked, hoping their longtime friendship might have made Miss Musgrove a close confidante of Maureen�s.�

�What do you plan to do now?� Lily asked.

�What I always do when I�m stumped: push Wolfe to figure things out.�

�Over the long haul, that has seemed to work out quite well, wouldn�t you say?�

�It has, but sometimes the challenge is to keep him focused. As I have told you before, he�s been known to run off the rails on occasion and go on an eating binge in frustration.�

�Well, I wish you luck. I don�t envy you.�

�I don�t envy me, either, at least as far as this particular situation is concerned. However, I do envy myself regarding the upcoming evening, when I will be dancing with an adorable partner at the Churchill.�

�Anybody ever tell you what a good fellow you are? See you later,� Lily said, and before I responded, the line went dead.

No more than five minutes later, Wolfe�s elevator brought him down from the plant rooms, and he settled in at his desk. Just after he had rung for beer, I gave him a verbatim report on my conversation with Lily.

After I finished, he sat, eyes closed and arms folded. There was a chance he would begin that lip exercise that invariably leads to a solution, or that he would go into one of his funks. Neither occurred.

�Archie, get Saul, Fred, and Orrie. I want them here at nine p.m. tonight.�

�Any special instructions?�

�No, I will give them instructions when they arrive.�

�Because this is getting to be such a regular thing, maybe I should set up a schedule in which all three of them would come to the brownstone at the same time every day. I think that would��

�Archie, shut up!�

�Yes, sir,� I said as I turned to my telephone and Wolfe picked up his current book. By the time we went into the dining room for dinner, I had gotten okays from Fred and Orrie for nine and had left a message with Panzer�s answering service.

Just after we finished eating and returned to the office, Saul called and said he could make it at nine but was puzzled as to what the meeting was for. �Sorry,� I told him, �I am only the errand boy here. Be patient; you will have to wait to get your curiosity satisfied.�

Starting the next morning, Saul telephoned me just after nine to report on the previous day�s findings. For each of the first two days of surveillance, Stan Jurek left home at 6:16 a.m. and walked east to Broadway, where he entered a subway station, presumably to take the long ride to his job in Brooklyn, and each evening he returned home by 5:20. On the second day, he was toting a six-pack of beer.

Sofia left home both days as well. On day one, she emerged onto the street at 11:12 in the morning and walked to the grocery store down the block, stayed inside for twenty-three minutes, then walked back home carrying a bag of groceries that included a loaf of bread sticking out of the top. On the second day, she came out just after eleven and went to the drugstore at the Broadway corner, returning ten minutes later carrying a small sack.

I thanked Saul and wondered if the surveillance may well amount to nothing, to use Wolfe�s own words. Assuming we were charging Eric Mason for the day rates of three veteran detectives, his eventual bill figured to be a corker.

On the morning of the next daily report, I felt it was time to tell Wolfe the surveillance was a wasted effort and that we should cut our losses. But that all changed when Saul telephoned.

�I was on the morning shift yesterday,� he said, �and as you will recall, the rain was coming down hard. At just after ten, Sofia came out of her building in a raincoat and with an umbrella, and she was not alone.�

�Go on,� I said, tightening my grip on the receiver.

�The other individual, a couple of inches taller than Sofia, also wore a raincoat, which had a hood. The two of them were huddled together under the umbrella so closely that I couldn�t see the face of the second person, but it had to be a woman.�

�Why, Saul?�

�The shoes. They were definitely a women�s style, with about two-inch heels.�

�Where did they go?�

I heard a sigh. �What I am going to tell you does not reflect well upon me, Archie, and I won�t charge for my time today � that would be like stealing from Mr. Wolfe.�

�We will leave it to him to decide that. Now tell me what happened, no matter how much it pains you to unburden yourself.�

�The pair walked east to Broadway in the rain, which had intensified. They got lucky and hailed a southbound Yellow cab right away, but when I got to the corner only seconds later, there wasn�t a damned taxi in sight. Plain and simple, I had lost them.�

�But they came back, right?�

�Wrong. That is, Sofia came back at about three alone and went into the building. I would love to ask where she had been and who she was with, but our instructions were to not identify ourselves.�

�You not being able to grab a cab was a bad break,� I sympathized.

�Well, I may be able to salvage a little pride, but it�s a long shot.�

�Out with it, man!�

�If nothing else, I got the taxi�s number as it pulled away. I passed it along to a guy I did a favor for once who works in the Hack Bureau, the agency that licenses the city�s cabs. I haven�t heard back from him, and even if I do, he may not want to tell him who owns the Yellow.�

�How big was the favor you did for him?�

�Big enough that it probably kept him out of the hoosegow.�

�That would seem to give you some leverage.�

�We�ll see,� Saul said, sounding less than optimistic.

When Wolfe came down from the plant rooms, I filled him in on Panzer�s report.

�Saul has no reason whatever to chastise himself,� Wolfe said. �I am assured that he will wring some information out of his source in that licensing agency.� My boss�s faith in Saul Panzer�s abilities was unlimited, and my own confidence in him was much the same.

Our faith was merited when I answered the telephone that afternoon, just after Wolfe had gone up to play with the orchids. �I got the cabbie,� Saul said.

�Wonderful. Can you bring him here?�

�I can, say at six, when Mr. W. comes down from the plant rooms. I�ll pay him myself for his time.�

�Six works. And as for any payment to the hack driver, we will discuss it.�

I then called Wolfe on the house phone. �Yes!� he barked in his usual telephone tone.

�I know you hate to be disturbed when you�re up in the greenhouse, but I did not want you to be surprised when you came down to the office. Saul has located the cabdriver who picked up Sofia and her companion. They will be here at six.�

�Satisfactory,� Wolfe said, hanging up. That was the first time he had ever used that word of praise after being interrupted during one of his sessions with the orchids.

At just after eleven the next morning, Wolfe, fresh from his playtime with the orchids, settled in at his desk, inquired as to whether I had slept well, and rang for beer. After watching the foam settle in the stein and taking a sip, he turned to me, nodding. That was his way of indicating that I should now call Mortimer Hotchkiss of the Continental Bank & Trust Co.

I knew the bank�s number by heart, and after a few rings, I got a functionary. He passed me along to another male individual, who acted like he had some standing in the bank�s hierarchy. �May I ask who wishes to speak with Mr. Hotchkiss?�

�Nero Wolfe,� I said. After a pause, the voice said, �Hold the line, please.�

When the vice president came on, I nodded to Wolfe, who said, �Good day, Mr. Hotchkiss.�

�Good day to you as well, Mr. Wolfe. How may I be of help?�

�You will recall our recent conversation. I am in need of further information concerning the subject of that talk.�

That brought a long pause, after which Hotchkiss replied cautiously, �Please tell me what it is that you need, Mr. Wolfe.�

�I request confirmation that another large withdrawal has been made from the account of the subject, and I make this request with great respect for you, sir. I would not be asking for this information were it not because of the danger I feel said subject could be in.�

�May I call you back in just a few minutes?�

Wolfe said yes and gave Hotchkiss our number. Seven minutes later, the phone rang and we both picked up.

�Mr. Wolfe,� Hotchkiss said, �in regards to our talk a few minutes ago, I can give you the confirmation you desire.�

�I will ask for nothing more than that, sir,� Wolfe said. �You have my thanks and my admiration for your principles and your dedication to duty.�

�So we know that Maureen Carr has coughed up some more dough,� I told Wolfe after he and the banker had ended their call. �Where do we proceed from here?

�We know from Saul that Sofia Jurek returned home from that trip to the bank, but she was alone. Which raises two questions: Where did the elusive Maureen Carr go, assuming that was her with Miss Jurek? And should we still keep watch on the Jureks� building?�

�The second question first,� Wolfe replied. �We will drop the surveillance immediately. As to Miss Carr�s destination after that trip to the bank, I am interested in your thoughts.�

That is Wolfe�s way of saying it seems like he might be stumped, although I haven�t seen him stumped very often.

�All right,� I said, �I will tell you where I think she did not go. One, Elaine Musgrove�s Greenwich Village home. Reason: Hirsch already knew she had been staying there. Two, her own place on Park Avenue. Reason: Hirsch knew her address. And the last person she wanted to run into was Miles Hirsch.�

Wolfe closed his eyes and steepled his fingers. �Which of course leaves��

�Damn it, of course it does!� I shouted, bolting from my chair, dashing down the hall, and grabbing my coat and hat without breaking stride as I headed for the front door.

After all that Maureen Carr had apparently been through, I was not about to have her travel from Lily�s to the brownstone on West Thirty-Fifth without an armed escort. So, after finishing lunch and calling Lily to set things up, I slipped the Marley .38 into my shoulder holster and grabbed a cab to East Sixty-Ninth Street.

As I entered the penthouse for the second time that day, I saw that Maureen was ready to go � and so was Lily Rowan. I started to say something, but Lily cut me off before I could start.

�Maureen wants me with her, and I cannot imagine that Nero Wolfe would mind in the least,� she said in a tone I know all too well � one that brooks no objections.

�Okay with me,� I said, holding up both palms in surrender. �Although Wolfe may send you up to the plant rooms to gaze at his orchids. He knows how much you like them.�

�I would really like it if Lily stayed with me,� Maureen said. �I have never met Nero Wolfe, and I�ve heard that he can be intimidating.�

�He�s a pussycat,� I said, which drew a laugh from Lily.

�Pussycat, eh?� she said. �I can only imagine how he would react if he heard you call him that.�

�All right, maybe I misspoke just a tad. But, Maureen, you have nothing whatever to be afraid of from Nero Wolfe. Like me, he is pleased that you have been located.�

When we got to the brownstone, Fritz opened the door, bowing as the two women entered. When their backs were to him, I noticed he was slyly admiring two pairs of legs.

Wolfe, who was at his desk, stood when we entered the office. Lily, knowing how unusual that is, looked at me with wide eyes. But of course, Maureen didn�t realize what a break in tradition this was. I gestured our guest to the red leather chair, while Lily sat in a yellow one and I parked at my desk. Wolfe did not seem to be bothered in the least by Lily�s presence. He probably was expecting it.

�Miss Carr,� Wolfe said, �you have stories to tell, I am sure, but before we move on, I must inform you, if Miss Rowan has not already, that I was hired to locate you.�

�Yes, she has told me you were hired by Lily and by Eric Mason,� Maureen said, her voice strong. No cases of nerves.

�But of course, I cannot claim my fee, as it was not my doing, but rather circumstances, that conspired to locate you.�

�Understood, and I am sorry to deprive you of your fee. But I have a proposition for you.�

�Is that so?�

�I want you to find whoever it was that killed my brother, and I have heard that you charge high rates. I am fully capable of meeting those rates, Mr. Wolfe.�

�We can discuss specific arrangements in due time. First, I would like a summary of your activities over the last few weeks.�

I could give you a detailed report on Wolfe�s conversation with Maureen Carr, but since you are going to hear much of it later on, I will not put you through having to read a lot of the same material twice.

�Do you plan to return to your residence, madam?�

�Eventually I will, of course. But for now, Lily has graciously allowed me to stay with her. After we leave here, we are going to my place to pick up some clothes. I have been living out of a suitcase long enough.�

�Understood. Mr. Goodwin will accompany you in that endeavor. Do you have any thoughts as to who shot your brother?�

�Nothing definite. I assume the police have been investigating.�

�They have, and without any apparent success.�

�I was quite serious when I said I want to hire you to do the job,� Maureen said, tight-lipped.

�I took it that you were serious,� Wolfe said. �We will talk further. For now, I assume you are in need of rest.�

�I hope that does not show too much,� Maureen responded, brushing errant wisps of hair from her forehead. �About Everett: I realize that I should be devastated by his death, but the truth is, we never were at all close. As I�m sure you are aware, we were only half-siblings, many years apart in age, and we spent almost no time together. If that makes me sound coldhearted, I am sorry, but I�m only being candid.�

�As Alexander Pope wrote in Essay on Man, �be candid where we can,� and I for one appreciate candor,� Wolfe said. �It avoids so-called niceties that too often interfere with free and open exchanges of thoughts and ideas. Now if you will excuse me, I have another appointment,� he said, rising and walking out of the office.

Maureen wore a surprised look, but I jumped in before she started to speak. �Mr. Wolfe was not upset with you. It is just that he can be rather... abrupt. It�s in his nature.�

�I think she realizes that, Archie,� Lily said. �I have been prepping her on what to expect from him. And what we just saw can only be described as vintage Nero Wolfe.�

�Well said,� I remarked. �There has been enough taxi riding recently. I have nominated myself as chauffeur, and like fugitives, we are about to leave the brownstone via the back way. You never know who might be watching the brownstone.�

They both wore puzzled looks as we walked through the kitchen as Fritz and Wolfe were conferring about how the lamb should be cooked. They ignored us as we left by the door, went down the steps, and walked along a narrow path to a gate in the wooden fence that encloses the backyard.

�In all the years that I have known you, I have never been shown this,� Lily remarked to me. �I begin to feel like a fugitive.�

�You ain�t seen nothin� yet, ladies,� I told them as I opened the gate, which locks on the inside and cannot be accessed from the outside. Another narrow path between two buildings led to a sidewalk near the corner of Thirty-Fourth Street and Tenth Avenue.

�You both have just navigated the emergency exit route from the brownstone that Mr. Wolfe and I, as well as some of our freelance operatives, have used during crucial times to avoid visitors, often members of the constabulary, who were trying to batter down our door.�

�In case you didn�t know, he means the police,� Lily said to Maureen, winking.

�Yeah, I did guess that. You must live an exciting life, Archie.�

�So says the woman who has had plenty of excitement herself recently. Well, here we are.�

�Curran Motors,� Lily said, looking up at a sign on the front of a brick one-story garage.

�Yep, the secret is out. This is where we keep our cars, have for years,� I said as we walked in.

�Hey, Archie,� called out a guy in gray coveralls who had a rag sticking out of a pocket. �I assume you�re here for the Heron. This isn�t convertible weather, not yet. Maybe in a couple weeks, huh?�

�Hi, Art. Yes, I�m here for the Heron this time. Can I trust you to produce said automobile from wherever it�s been stowed?�

�I will get it right away,� he said, and within three minutes, Art pulled the sedan up in front of us. As he got out, he threw a lopsided grin at Lily and Maureen, and then said to me, �How come some guys have two beautiful women with them, and I don�t have any?�

�Art, it�s an intangible aura that I happen to have, and I wish I could explain it, but I can�t. Call it the luck of the draw.�

Both women climbed into the back seat and I gave Art a salute. �If I had a chauffeur�s hat, I�d be wearing it,� I told him as I pulled away.

�Sorry,� I said, turning to the ladies. �I would rather be driving you in the convertible, but Art is right. This isn�t the weather for it.�

�He seemed kind of cute,� Maureen remarked. �Too bad he doesn�t have a girl.�

�Hah, don�t let Art fool you. He doesn�t have a girl because he has a wife, and a damned nice-looking one, too. Along with two kids.�

�Enough of this idle chatter,� Lily said. �Onward, Jeeves.�

I dropped the women off at Maureen�s Park Avenue palace and idled at the curb while they went upstairs to gather some of her clothes. The doorman, Seamus, strode up to the Heron wearing his big, toothy Irish grin and said, �Hello, Mr. Goodwin. It is so nice to see Miss Carr back again. She has been away for some time now.�

�She has, and I suspect she will be in and out for a while, but I agree that it�s good that she has returned.� I jawed with Seamus about such topics as the weather and the Giants� chances of getting into the World Series for close to a half hour. When the ladies finally came down, they were carrying a pair of suitcases and several dresses on hangers in zippered bags.

�How long before you have to come back here and replenish your wardrobe?� I asked Maureen.

�Oh, just ignore him,� Lily countered. �Men love to see us looking nice, but they never appreciate how hard we work to please them.�

My answer was a sigh as I pulled away and drove to Lily�s building, where, to show that I was not the churl Lily likes to make me out to be, I helped cart the clothes up to the penthouse. After bidding the women good-bye and getting hugs of thanks and even a kiss from Lily, I returned home.

When I walked into the office, I saw that Wolfe had returned from his afternoon session with the orchids and was leaning back at his desk as if asleep.

�I certainly hope I am not disturbing you,� I said.

He opened his eyes, blinked at me, and sniffed. �I have procrastinated,� he announced. �Call Miss Carr. I wish to speak to her.�

I called Lily�s number, and when she answered, I told her Nero Wolfe wanted words with Maureen. �Really? I will get her,� Lily replied.

Wolfe picked up his phone, and I stayed on. �Miss Carr, you earlier said you wanted to hire me to name the killer of your brother. Is your offer still on the table?�

�It certainly is, Mr. Wolfe. And I assure you that you will not find me a difficult negotiator regarding fees.�

�That can wait for a later discussion, madam. For me to proceed, I may request help of a nonfinancial nature.�

�All you have to do is ask,� Maureen replied, �and I will do whatever I can.�

�Satisfactory. Expect to hear from Mr. Goodwin.�

After we all hung up, I turned to Wolfe. �What did I miss?�

�Miss? Nothing significant I am aware of.�

�When I was gone did you...?�

�Did I what, Archie?� Wolfe snapped.

�Never mind.� What I was about to ask him: Did you do that lip trick of yours while I was gone? (I was referring, of course, to when Wolfe was in the process of solving a case, he would go into some sort of trance and his lips world go out and in, out and in before he awoke with the solution.) I never brought the subject up later, and I suppose I will never find out what he was up to in my absence. I shifted gears. �What kind of help are you going to need from Maureen Carr?�

Wolfe pulled in air and exhaled. �I want her to use what persuasive powers she possesses to get Stanley and Sofia Jurek to the brownstone at a time to be determined. Also, I want you to do likewise regarding Miles Hirsch and his bodyguard, Harley Everts.�

�An interesting challenge. This begins to sound suspiciously like what Inspector Cramer refers to as one of your seances. Who else needs to be roped in?�

�Miss Rowan and Eric Mason, our former clients. By the way, it is possible Mr. Mason does not know that Miss Carr has returned.�

�He probably isn�t aware of it, unless Maureen herself has informed him. Okay, we know who you want present, now as to the when.�

�Tomorrow night, nine o�clock,� Wolfe said.

�Easy for you to say. When we make our calls, do we tell the invitees the purpose of the meeting?�

�The naming of Everett Carr�s murderer.�

I was not surprised. �And I suppose you will want Cramer present as well.�

�I will personally offer him the opportunity to attend.�

�Any suggestions on what I can use as bait to get Hirsch and his thug to make an appearance?�

�Over the years, I have been impressed by your persuasive powers. Bring those powers into play once again.�

�All right, next question: Are you going to give Maureen Carr her assignment, or do you expect me to?�

�You always have had a good understanding of young women and how they think.�

�Hah! You are giving me far too much credit. But I see that I have been given yet another task.� Wolfe�s response was to open an orchid catalog that had arrived in the morning mail. There was to be no further discussion, as is so often the case.

I figured I might as well start on the hardest task first, and I was hardly surprised to find that Miles Hirsch was not listed in the Manhattan phone directory. That meant a call to Lon Cohen.

�Yeah?� he answered after a couple of rings.

�I need some information,� I told him.

�I�ll try to mask my surprise. What is it this time?�

�Hey, don�t get all uppity,� I told him. �There may be a scoop here for you.�

�Talk is cheap, Archie. What is it you need?�

�An unlisted phone number. And I believe you have the resources at your mighty journal to accommodate me.�

�Flattery won�t get you anywhere. Give me the name.�

�Miles Hirsch.�

�Why am I not shocked? The very same fellow you had me pull the clips on. Now I really do begin to smell a scoop.�

�Stop salivating. Can you get me his phone number?�

�I�ll call you back � soon,� Lon said and hung up.

�Soon� turned out to be ten minutes, and Lon fed me the number. �Just remember who your friends are,� he said.

�How can I forget, as often as you keep reminding me?�

I dialed the number Lon had given me, and the call was answered by a male in what seemed to be an English accent, or some approximation. �Mr. Hirsch�s residence,� he intoned.

�I would like to speak to Miles Hirsch,� I said after getting the standard who-may-I-ask-is-calling response and giving my name.

There was silence on the line for close to a half minute, and then the English voice was back. �I am so sorry, sir, but Mr. Hirsch is indisposed.�

�Oh dear, I�m sorry as well. I do hope it is nothing serious. Please tell Mr. Hirsch that we were so hoping he might be able to attend an important meeting at Mr. Nero Wolfe�s residence at nine o�clock tomorrow night. It promises to be very important to Mr. Hirsch�s business interests, and to his standing in the community.�

Another silence, this time shorter. �Goddamn it, Goodwin, just what are you trying to pull? And how did you get this number?� Hirsch shouted as I jerked the receiver away from my ear.

�Pull? I am not sure what you mean, Mr. Hirsch. Mr. Wolfe was concerned that you might regret missing a gathering at his home that could affect your future.�

�Now listen to me, and listen good, you two-bit private peeper. Nobody, and I mean nobody, tells me where I�ve got to be and when. You got that?�

�I certainly do, Mr. Hirsch. Mr. Wolfe will be sorry for your absence, as will Police Inspector Cramer, who I understand was looking forward to meeting you.�

�Cramer? What the hell would he be doing at Wolfe�s place? What kind of a racket are you guys pulling?�

�No racket at all, Mr. Hirsch. Nero Wolfe is a licensed private investigator in the state of New York.�

That got a scornful laugh from Hirsch. �Hell, those clowns up in Albany will give a license to anybody as long as it brings dough into the state�s coffers.�

�You sound rather cynical,� I remarked.

�Damn right. I�ve got reason to be with all that I�ve seen through the years.�

�Interesting. I heard a similar reaction from a policeman recently,� I told him. �It seems like a shame for you to miss out on this meeting,� I remarked. �You may know several other people who will be present.�

�Yeah, like who?�

�I am not at liberty to say at the moment.�

�What a crock. Tell you what, Goodwin, I�m going to call Wolfe�s bluff and show up tomorrow, and whether you guys like it or not, I�m going to bring Harley Everts along to watch my back.�

�That�s an excellent idea, Mr. Hirsch. I was going to suggest it myself, but you beat me to it.�

My comment seemed to give the gambler pause, at least for a few seconds. He recovered and muttered something about seeing us tomorrow before hanging up. Next, I called one of my favorite numbers, and Lily answered.

�Is all well with Maureen?� I asked.

�Yes, she is still in recovery mode after all her adventures.�

�I�m not surprised. Two items: One, has she talked to Mason since her... reemergence? And two, I need to speak to her.�

�No, she hasn�t called Mason; and she�s resting, but she�s not asleep. I�ll get her.�

�Hi, Archie,� Maureen said after stifling a yawn. �Lily said that you needed to talk to me.�

�First, I hope you�re getting plenty of rest.�

�Don�t worry about that. Lily has been spoiling me.�

�Glad to hear it. Mr. Wolfe has an assignment for you.�

�Uh-oh, should I be worried?�

�I hardly think so. He is having a meeting tomorrow night at nine p.m. at his home, and we�re in the process of gathering the attendees. He has asked that you invite Sofia and Stan Jurek.�

�What�s the meeting about, Archie?�

�Mr. Wolfe wants to learn more about how your brother happened to be shot. And after all, you are his client.�

�I�m not sure what I should tell Sofia and Stan. I do know how upset they are � especially Sofia � for what I�ve been through and for what happened to Everett.�

�Understood. Just tell them you have hired Mr. Wolfe to help you, and that one or the other of them may have some thoughts about anyone they knew or have seen who could help in his investigation.�

�All right, I will telephone them. Should I get back to you with what they say?�

�Absolutely, and as quickly as possible. Mr. Wolfe really does feel they might be of some help. It is important you stress that to each of them.�

�Aye, aye, sir.�

�Two more things, Maureen: Bring Lily with you tomorrow night. And I know you haven�t talked to Eric Mason, but we will want to invite him as well, being that he was a client. Do you have a problem with us asking that he come?�

�No... no, but won�t he be surprised to see me, and get angry that I haven�t called him?�

�That�s possible, of course, but you can always say that you�ve been so traumatized that you�ve been in seclusion.�

�Sounds pretty dramatic,� Maureen said.

�Well, there has been plenty of drama lately. I hope to hear from you soon regarding the Jureks. By the way, do you have Mason�s home number? We have been calling him at the ad agency.�

She gave it to me, and after we signed off, I turned to Wolfe, who still had his nose in that orchid catalog. �You probably got the drift from hearing my end of those calls that Hirsch and his henchman are coming tomorrow night and Maureen will try to get the Jurek couple to show up.�

�Do you doubt her success?�

�No, but if she does happen to strike out, I will exert my persuasive powers with them. I assume you want me to call Eric Mason.�

�Your assumption is correct. Before you speak to him, I need to talk to Inspector Cramer.�

Which translates to, You call him, right now. Like so many other numbers, I know the inspector�s by heart. I dialed and after two rings got �Cramer!� shouted at me. He and Wolfe must have attended the same school of telephone etiquette. I nodded to my boss, who picked up his receiver.

�Good day, Inspector,� he said.

�I haven�t seen anything good about it yet,� Cramer snapped. �And now with you on the line, it�s only bound to get worse.�

�You have not heard me out, sir. It�s possible I have good news.�

�I will be the judge of that.�

�Very well. I have invited several people to the brownstone tomorrow night at nine. I plan to identify Everett Carr�s murderer, who will be among those present, and I felt you might want to be on hand.�

There was a long pause, which could have meant Cramer was gnawing on a stogie either in anger or in frustration. Finally, he found his voice, and it had an edge. �I was right; the day has gotten worse. Who are you going to finger?�

�You know better than to ask that, Mr. Cramer. There must be a full explanation before there can be a revelation.�

�You sure can spit out the long words, Wolfe,� he snarled. �So, it�s to be another one of your goddamn spectacles. You should have gone on the stage. Broadway lost one of the great dramatic actors when you became a detective.�

�Sarcasm does not become you, sir. Do you plan to be in attendance tomorrow night?�

�Yes, along with Sergeant Stebbins, whether you like it or not.�

�I have no objection to his presence. In fact, I believe it to be a prudent move.�

�Well, I am sure glad that I have your approval,� Cramer said, hanging up.

�So that much is settled,� I told Wolfe. �Now I�ll call Eric Mason.� That got a nod, nothing more.

�I wasn�t sure I�d find you in,� I told the ad man when he answered.

�And why not?� he said sharply. �I was beginning to wonder if I would ever hear from you or Nero Wolfe again. What�s going on with the search for Maureen?�

�We have some news, but I can�t tell you about it right now. There is going to be a gathering at Mr. Wolfe�s brownstone tomorrow night, and you�re invited.�

�Why all the mystery? What the hell is going on?�

�You will find out at that time. Sorry, but Nero Wolfe does things his way. And he gets results.�

Mason continued to grumble about how he�s been in the dark for so long. I listened for a while to show I was sympathetic, but then told him I had other people to call and curtly ended the conversation.

No sooner had I hung up than the phone jangled. It was Maureen. �Archie, both of the Jureks will be at your place tomorrow night, although persuading them to come was not easy.�

�Tell me about it.�

�Sofia answered my call, and after I explained about the meeting, she seemed uneasy, saying she didn�t understand why they should have to be at your place tomorrow. Then Stan came on the line and started barking at me. He said he was tired of being accused of things. I told him nobody was accusing him of anything, and that Mr. Wolfe just needed to learn more about my brother.

�Stan finally calmed down � he has quite a temper � and then he persuaded Sofia that it would be all right if they went to the meeting. She finally agreed, but not until they had talked for several minutes. I could hear the conversation through the receiver, and there was some whining on Sofia�s part. She does not like confrontation of any kind, as I learned when she worked for me. It�s a shyness that she�s never gotten over.�

�Congratulations on pulling it off. Now I can tell you something: Eric Mason also will be present tomorrow night. He was angry that we hadn�t been in touch with him for a few days, and I heard him out and let him vent. I did not tell him you would be present, so be prepared for a reaction.�

�I will steel myself,� she said.

�I�m sure you will. Come a little early tomorrow night. It would be good if you were already seated when the others arrive.�

So we were set for tomorrow�s festivities. As usual, I had not caught up with Wolfe and his reasoning, although I had begun to have suspicions. He told me to make sure Saul Panzer would be present to welcome the guests and to serve drinks.

The next day dragged by as they always do when Wolfe is going to stage one of his show-and-tell sessions. I found a variety of ways to pass the time, including bringing the expense ledger up to date and making sure several bills got paid on time.

After a dinner in which Wolfe expounded on the generally positive impact immigration had made on American society in general, I set up the chairs in the office while Saul stocked the beverage cart with a variety of liquors and filled the ice bucket.

At eight thirty, Lily and Maureen arrived, each of them clearly on edge. �Because you are now the client, you get the place of honor, the red leather chair,� I told Maureen, who did not appear to be overly impressed. Then I turned to Lily. �And for you, this chair in the front row � the farthest from me, I�m sorry to say, but that�s how Mr. Wolfe wants it.�

�He probably thinks if I sit close to you, we will murmur sweet nothings to each other, and I don�t have to tell you how he feels about scenes like that.�

�We will just have to do our murmurings some other time. I can wait if you can.�

�It will be difficult,� Lily said, �but then, I�ve got a lot of willpower. Who will be sitting with me in this row?�

�Miles Hirsch, the gambler, and next to you, his bodyguard, Harley Everts.�

�Oh swell. Maybe I can strike up a conversation with this Everts about the brand of brass knuckles he uses.�

�Now don�t you go getting all sarcastic on me,� I told Lily.

�Me, sarcastic, never, my dear. I prefer to call myself a realist.�

�If I can interrupt this snappy patter, Archie,� Maureen said, �as the client, I would like to know the rest of the seating arrangements.�

�You certainly are entitled to that. The second row will have Stan Jurek closest to me, then Sofia and Eric Mason. And the two chairs in the back will be occupied by Inspector Cramer and his sergeant, Purley Stebbins. Oh, and Saul Panzer will be parked on the sofa against the wall as an onlooker.�

No sooner had I got those words out than the bell sounded, which sent Fritz to the front door. Seconds later, followed by the heavy-footed Stebbins, Cramer stepped in, looked around, noted the presence of Lily, Maureen, and Panzer, and scowled. �Miss Rowan, I have known you since you were a child, and as you are aware, I knew and respected your father � a fine man, and one who helped me early in my career. I can only guess how he would feel if he knew you were a party to these Wolfe-Goodwin shenanigans.�

�Oh, I think he would be just fine with them, Inspector, just like he was fine nurturing your career back when you were pounding the beat.� Cramer made a face but did not respond.

�And, Inspector,� Lily continued, �this is Maureen Carr, a very good friend of mine who is here to learn who killed her brother.�

Before Cramer could respond, the bell chimed again, and the Jureks came into the office, looking around nervously. They were followed immediately by Eric Mason, whose expression when he saw Maureen was one for the ages. His face went from shock to pleasure to anger in matter of seconds. �Why... you are... how...?�

To prevent the man from becoming a babbling idiot, Maureen quietly said, �We will talk later, Eric. Now is not the time.�

That shut him up, and he plopped down where I directed as the Jureks also sat without complaint and without uttering a word.

The next, and last, sounding of the doorbell brought Miles Hirsch and his sidekick Everts in, each of them looking like he would rather be anywhere else.

I got the pair seated in the front row. Hirsch started to speak, but he was interrupted by the arrival of Wolfe, who detoured around his desk and got seated. He surveyed the gathering and spoke each person�s name, ending with Cramer and Stebbins.

�What the hell are those two doing here?� Hirsch demanded as he looked over his shoulder and jabbed a gnarled finger at two of New York�s Finest. �You got the cops in your pocket?� he demanded of Wolfe.

�Shut up, or we�ll shut you up!� Cramer barked. �We are here as observers right now, although more outbursts from you might alter our role.�

�Mr. Cramer is correct that he and Sergeant Stebbins are here as observers, and they are present at my invitation and remain at my sufferance. Do you have any further questions, Mr. Hirsch?�

The gambler folded his arms across his chest and shook his head.

�Good, now if we may continue, I am going to have beer,� Wolfe said, pressing the buzzer in the leg-hole of his desk. �Would anyone else like something to drink? We have a well-stocked bar.�

�I didn�t realize this was to be a cocktail party,� Mason huffed, apparently still sore at Maureen for not having communicated with him.

�I�ll have some of Wolfe�s hootch like I did one other time here. Give me that good scotch again,� Hirsch said. �With a dash of water � and I mean only a dash.�

�Me, too,� grunted Everts.

�Oh, what the hell, I�ll play along,� Mason said. �Make mine a rye on the rocks.�

Wolfe nodded to Saul, who rose from his perch on the sofa, a tweed sports coat nicely hiding the S&W snub-nosed .38 nestled in his shoulder holster. He went to the bar cart and began preparing the drinks. After they had been delivered, Wolfe took a sip of the beer Fritz had brought in and again looked over the assemblage.

�I ask your patience, as we are dealing with a complex consecution.�

�What the hell is a consecution?� Hirsch demanded.

�A sequence of events,� Mason said irritably. �We had better not interrupt the man, or we may end up here all night.�

�Thank you, sir,� Wolfe said. �I will not keep any of you here longer than is necessary to explain the denouement.�

�What is a denou � oh, never mind,� Hirsch said. �This guy� � he gestured toward Mason � �is right. Can�t we move this along? We�ve all got places to be, I�m sure.�

�Let us then proceed,� Wolfe said. �This all began as a missing persons case, and that individual is Maureen Carr, who is now, ironically, my client.� Wolfe glanced in her direction. �I was hired by Lily Rowan and Eric Mason to locate Miss Carr, who had not been seen for days and who failed to appear at one or more social functions where she had been expected. She also had been absent from her own home for an extended period, which puzzled her housekeeper, Mrs. Jurek.

�Even with the help of Mr. Goodwin and other investigators I often employ, we were initially unsuccessful in locating our subject � that is, until through some dogged research we learned she had been up in the Albany area, dining with Mr. Hirsch.�

�Now wait a minute, damn it, whose word do you have for that?� Miles Hirsch demanded, rising halfway out of his chair.

�Do you deny the occurrence, sir? Perhaps we should ask Miss Carr about that meal at a roadhouse north of Albany.� Wolfe turned to Maureen.

�Yes, we did have lunch up there,� she said. �I can name the place, if you�d like.�

�Oh, now I get it,� Hirsch said, �this has been a setup. You�ve brought her here to contradict everything I say. Her word against mine.�

Wolfe ignored the gambler. �Miss Carr, how did you and Mr. Hirsch happen to meet and dine at that location upstate?�

�I was handing Mr. Hirsch a certified check for fifty thousand dollars.�

�Indeed? For what purpose?�

�Now wait a minute � I feel like I�m on trial here!� Hirsch barked.

�Just to make something clear,� Inspector Cramer cut in, �this is not a courtroom, whatever Nero Wolfe thinks, and you do not have to respond to any charges or comments.� Cramer seemed to be coming to Hirsch�s defense, although it was clear from the inspector�s facial expression that he had little if any use for the gambler and horse breeder.

�Thank you for clarifying that,� Wolfe said, glaring at Cramer. �Miss Carr, for what reason were you giving Mr. Hirsch that certified check?�

�I was paying off a debt for my brother, who had a gambling problem and had borrowed heavily from Mr. Hirsch.�

�Are you in the habit of lending large sums of money to individuals who gamble?� Wolfe asked Hirsch.

�No comment.�

Wolfe turned to Maureen. �Would you describe your brother as one who gambled heavily?�

She nodded. �I had never been close to Everett, but I always knew he had this problem, usually involving horse racing. I was unaware that he had lost such large sums until I got a telephone call from my brother.� She looked at Hirsch. �This... person said Everett owed him thousands of dollars, and he wanted his money. Everett told me his tone was threatening.�

�How did Mr. Hirsch select the Albany area as the place for your meeting?�

�He told me that at the time he was staying at his home in Saratoga Springs and that it was more convenient for him if we met up there. I did not feel like I had any choice in the matter.�

�Did the two of you dine alone?�

�Yes, although when he picked me up at my hotel in Albany, he had a driver � that man,� Maureen said, pointing a finger at Everts.

�It would seem that you function in a variety of roles for Mr. Hirsch,� Wolfe stated. Everts shrugged but said nothing.

�After you returned from Albany,� Wolfe said to Maureen, �you did not go back to your home but rather to the residence of a friend in Greenwich Village.�

�Yes, I was trying to... well, go underground, I suppose you might say.�

�For what purpose, madam?�

�I did not want to see Hirsch again.�

�Had he threatened you?�

�When we had that lunch, he told me I might have to pay him more money, because Everett was running up more debts.�

�With money Mr. Hirsch was supplying him?�

�I suppose so. I don�t know where else Everett could have gotten it.�

�Am I correct in assuming Mr. Hirsch charges interest on these loans?�

�Boy, does he ever! That�s why, once he got hold of me, he did not want to let go,� Maureen said, glaring at Hirsch, who seemed to be bored by the proceedings. I half expected him to start yawning.

�Unfortunately, you were not able to shake Mr. Hirsch by moving from your address to another one.�

�Then you must know that he and this Everts came to the Greenwich Village house � Elaine Musgrove�s � where Everett and I were staying. I had gotten the key from the man who looks after her place when she is away. Elaine, bless her, had wired him from France and asked him to give me the key after I had talked to her.�

�How did Mr. Hirsch find you?�

�I really don�t know, unless he followed me when I left home. I hadn�t told anyone where I was going. I was frankly terrified.�

�What did Mr. Hirsch say to you when he came to your temporary abode?�

�To start with, he fooled me by having this Everts man ring the bell, and when I answered on the speaker, he said �Western Union.� I did not recognize his voice, so I opened the door and they both pushed on in. Then Hirsch laughed and said something like �So you thought you would lose me by ducking out, eh? Well, Harley and I, we want to keep close track of you. We never know when we might need you.��

�How did your brother happen to be in that Greenwich Village home with you?� Wolfe asked.

�Everett had called me at home in a panic and wanted me to help keep him from this... Hirsch. So that�s how we both ended up staying at Elaine�s house for a day or so, and when these two men came barging in, Everett went out the back way, so they never saw him. I never saw him again, either,� Maureen said in a somber tone.

�When I found out what had happened to him � the shooting was all over Greenwich Village, as you can imagine � I panicked again and left the Greenwich Village house by the back door so as not to be seen in case Hirsch was watching the place. I stayed with Sofia and Stanley for a couple of nights and then called Lily, who took me in.�

�Miss Carr, who do you think killed your brother?� Wolfe asked.

�Don�t try to pin this on me, damn it,� Hirsch interrupted. �Why would I want to get rid of someone who owed me money? That makes no sense.�

Once again, Wolfe ignored Hirsch, giving Maureen a questioning look.

�I really have no idea who did it. I saw so little of Everett that I don�t know anything about who his friends were � or his enemies, assuming that he had some enemies, given what happened.�

�Mr. Jurek, did you know Everett Carr?� Wolfe asked.

Stan Jurek flinched, surprised by being brought into the conversation. �Uh, well, I had met him, but I can�t say that I really knew the man.�

�What were the circumstances of your having met?�

�We both, well... we like to bet on the horses. We ran into each other in a... a bookie joint.�

�Would you say you were successful in your wagering endeavors?�

Jurek hunched his shoulders. �Well, I�ve had some good days and some not-so-good days.�

�You must have learned during your conversations that Mr. Carr was related to your wife�s employer.�

�Yeah, you know, we did. What a coincidence in a city this large, huh? We laughed about it, although I got the impression that the Carrs weren�t very close.�

�From our earlier conversation, I learned that you saw a lot of action during the war, and that you killed a German soldier in hand-to-hand combat,� Wolfe said.

�I did,� San Jurek replied. �It was either him or me.�

�Did you, like so many servicemen, bring home any souvenirs from Europe?�

�Oh, a few,� Jurek said offhandedly. �An iron cross and some medals off a Jerry corpse I came across, and the Luger from the guy I shot.�

�The spoils of war,� Wolfe observed, turning to Sofia. �And you, madam, were most generous in giving Miss Carr a place to stay during a time of turmoil for her.�

Sofia�s face reddened. �Stan and I were happy to do that. She was so frightened.�

�I understand that after she had stayed in your apartment and Mr. Jurek left for work, the two of you took a taxi to a bank. I am most interested in that occurrence.�

Sofia looked down at her lap and kneaded her hands. �I had asked her for some money,� she said hoarsely.

Wolfe nodded. �No doubt you were somewhat strapped financially, not having worked for Miss Carr for several weeks.�

�Yes, yes, that is it,� Sofia said.

�What you�re saying is that my salary isn�t big enough, is that it?� Stan Jurek demanded.

�Miss Carr, may I inquire as to how much money you gave to your housekeeper that day?� Wolfe asked.

�I was hoping this wouldn�t come up,� Maureen replied in a subdued tone. �I withdrew five thousand dollars on our trip to the bank.�

�What!� It was Jurek. �We�re not broke, that�s just plain charity,� he said sharply to his wife.

�How dire is your situation?� Wolfe asked Sofia.

�Pretty bad,� she said, again in a soft voice.

�Because of your husband�s gambling?�

�Now wait a minute! We did not come in here so that you could air our dirty linen in public,� Jurek said, standing as if to leave.

�Sit down!� Cramer spat. �Nobody leaves until I say so.�

�Oh, so this really is your party, after all,� Hirsch said, �despite Wolfe�s claim that you and your sergeant are just here as observers. What a lot of hooey!�

�Perhaps Inspector Cramer misspoke,� Wolfe said in a conciliatory tone. �Mr. Jurek, you mentioned that among the items you brought back from the war is a Luger pistol.�

�Yes, and it�s a dandy,� he said, having calmed down a bit and being happy to talk about his military exploits. �I�ve thought about putting it in a glass case, along with the iron cross and the medals I took off the guy�s uniform. Kind of like trophies.�

�But you have never fired the weapon?� Wolfe asked.

�Hell no, although the bullets are still in it.�

�Mr. Carr was killed by a weapon that fired nine-millimeter shells, the caliber used in a Luger,� Wolfe said.

�I suppose there are lots of Lugers around,� Jurek said. �What are you trying to say?�

�I am simply making an observation, sir. Mrs. Jurek, did you ever have occasion to meet Mr. Carr?�

Sofia stiffened. �I... do not believe so.�

�But you knew who he was?�

�Oh yes, Stan had mentioned him to me.�

�Did they meet often?�

�I don�t know that.�

�And you are sure you have never met Mr. Carr?� Wolfe repeated his earlier question.

�I... I...� Sofia began to sniffle.

�Let me suggest this scenario, madam. You have indeed met Everett Carr. You felt the man was a bad influence upon your husband by encouraging his gambling on the horses, a habit that has wreaked havoc on your family�s finances.�

�Stop this!� Stan Jurek shouted. �I will not let��

�Mr. Jurek, if you are unable to control yourself, I will ask Mr. Goodwin and Mr. Panzer to forcibly relocate you to the front room until I have concluded,� Wolfe said. Jurek had been hyperventilating, and after Wolfe�s threat, he slowly returned to normal breathing.

�To continue with my scenario, madam, you contrived to meet Mr. Carr � I will leave it to the police to determine how that was accomplished � and the two of you met in a passageway between buildings in Greenwich Village. You of course knew about your husband�s prized Luger, and you took it with you to the rendezvous.

�Your plan was to insist that Mr. Carr stop meeting your husband and abetting his gambling proclivities. You planned to threaten him with the Luger to underscore the seriousness of your demand. But��

�Please!� This time, it was Sofia who interrupted. �Please, that is enough. You are right, you are right, I did have the gun in my hand, but I just wanted to use it to, to threaten him. But do you know what that man did? He laughed at me, and he grabbed for the gun. He said, �What is a tiny little lady like you doing with such a big, bad weapon? You are nothing but a silly goose.� That is what he called me � a silly goose! We wrestled for the gun, and at that moment, I hated him even more than before. I tried to pull the gun back as he kept holding on to it, and it... it fired and fired. He fell...�

She broke down and started sobbing as her husband cradled her head in his lap. Tears rolled down his cheeks as well.

Wolfe, who can�t stand scenes like the one that was unfolding before him, got up and walked out of the office.

For the first several seconds after Wolfe departed, there was what I could only term stunned silence. The lone sounds were the muffled crying of Sofia Jurek and the muttering of her husband.

Finally, Inspector Cramer spoke. �Purley, call headquarters and ask them to bring a policewoman here � and right now!� Stebbins looked questioningly at me, and I nodded in the direction of my desk, a signal of tacit permission for him to use my phone. Despite the differences Purley and I have had over the years, and they have been doozies, sometimes our hostilities must be suspended. This was one of those times.

Lily came over to Maureen and put an arm on her shoulder, then whispered something in her ear. Miles Hirsch and Harley Everts rose, and, wearing a sneer, Hirsch looked around and said to Cramer, �Bet you thought you were going to get me tonight, didn�t you? Sorry I had to spoil your evening, copper.�

�Be smug while you still can,� the inspector retorted as the gambler walked out. �Your day will come.�

Stebbins finished his call and, shaking his head, he looked down at the Jureks, who were still clinging to each other. Eric Mason came over to Maureen, and the two of them repaired to the sofa and huddled in a conversation that I made no attempt to eavesdrop on.

Lily came and stood with me, saying, �I thought Mr. Wolfe was pretty hard on Sofia, didn�t you?�

�It was not fun to watch, for sure. But then, Sofia was pretty hard on Everett Carr as well,� I said.

�But she was trying to protect her husband.�

�I will grant you that, and I suppose that eventually it will be up to a jury to decide her fate. Now if you will excuse me, my dear. I must make a call to Lon Cohen at the Gazette, who may very well be expecting to hear from me. He will, of course, call Inspector Cramer and be able to scoop the competition when his early edition comes out around midday tomorrow. He will love the fact that it is now too late for the morning papers like the Times and Daily News to get anything into print tonight. And most important, Lon will be in Nero Wolfe�s debt, at least for a while.�

The case against Sofia Jurek ended up generating lots of headlines and photographs. First for the murder itself, of course, but then for the trials � plural. For many of the courtroom reporters, Sofia became a tragic figure, one who had been driven to violence by forces beyond her control and who was seen by some to be an accidental murderess.

Gambling took center stage at her first trial, with some social reformers demanding that parimutuel horse racing be banned in New York State because of the harm it does to working families. For good or ill, that campaign got nowhere.

The district attorney�s office had first planned to charge Sofia with first-degree murder, but they decided premeditation would be too hard to prove, so they went to a second-degree charge. Sofia was represented by one of the best trial lawyers in the city. He was hired by Maureen Carr � despite the defendant having killed Maureen�s brother.

The courtroom drama garnered plenty of coverage, on the radio and in magazines as well as in print. However, the trial was aborted when a reporter from Lon Cohen�s Gazette discovered that one of the jurors was a recovering gambler � mainly on horse racing. A second trial is currently underway, and Lon has told me his reporters think this one could drag on for weeks, particularly with Sofia being portrayed as a martyr and a victim.

Inspector Cramer�s �Your day will come� threat to Miles Hirsch came to pass a little over a week ago when the gambler and horse breeder was charged with the doping of one of his own horses in a race at a track in Florida. Lon is certain that Hirsch will go to trial, which could result in his being permanently banned from horse racing, to say nothing of a possible prison sentence.

As far as I am aware, nothing more has been heard from or about Hirsch�s dubious sidekick, Harley Everts. Maybe the tough has found himself a new boss for whom he can perform questionable duties.

Maureen Carr and Eric Mason are still being seen together at various social events around town, although Lily Rowan tells me that the lady still cannot make up her mind about marrying the creative advertising ace. I don�t have strong feelings on the subject one way or the other, and neither does Lily.

In case you are the type who likes to keep track of details, Maureen did indeed pay Nero Wolfe for solving the murder of her brother, and the fee Wolfe charged, forty thousand dollars, was acceptable to his deep-pocketed client. It was acceptable to me as well, because when Wolfe gets his fee and the bank balance gets an infusion, he is easier to put up with. I am all for a peaceful household, and on that topic, Fritz Brenner and Theodore Horstmann are in total agreement with me.

This story is set in the aftermath of World War II, when the United States was adjusting, not always easily, to peacetime after nearly four years of American conflict in Europe and the Pacific.

Among the places mentioned in the narrative is the William Sloane House YMCA, on West Thirty-Fourth Street near Ninth Avenue in Manhattan. The fourteen-story Sloan House, once said to be the largest residential Y in the country with sixteen hundred, was built in 1930, sold in 1963 for five million dollars, and later converted to rental apartments.

I stayed there on several occasions in 1961 when on weekend passes from my army post at Fort George G. Meade in Maryland. The rooms were spartan but clean and neat, and the price was right for a young GI. And those trips to New York gave me a wonderful opportunity to familiarize myself with the city that plays such a large part in these stories.

If present-day New Yorkers reading this narrative are puzzled to learn that long-distance passenger trains once departed from Grand Central Terminal, it should be noted that the historic station was for decades home to many famous intercity trains, including the Twentieth Century Limited, the Southwestern Limited, and the Commodore Vanderbilt. But in 1991, Amtrak consolidated all its New York passenger operations at Penn Station, and Grand Central became solely a commuter depot.

If the name Mortimer M. Hotchkiss, a vice president of the Continental Bank & Trust Co., strikes a familiar chord with readers, it is because Rex Stout also had used him as Nero Wolfe�s banker. If you have found a good man, stick with him.

Four books have been of great help to me in my attempts to re-create the world of Nero Wolfe and the other characters and places Rex Stout created over four decades. They are: Nero Wolfe of West Thirty-Fifth Street: The Life and Times of America�s Largest Private Detective by William S. Baring-Gould (The Viking Press, New York, 1968); The Nero Wolfe Cookbook by Rex Stout and the Editors of the Viking Press (Viking Press, New York, 1973); The Brownstone House of Nero Wolfe by Ken Darby as Told by Archie Goodwin (Little, Brown, Boston, 1983); and Rex Stout: A Biography by John McAleer (Little, Brown, Boston, 1977). The McAleer volume won an Edgar Award in the biography category from the Mystery Writers of America.

As with my previous Nero Wolfe books, I thank the estate of Rex Stout for graciously granting me permission to continue the adventures of Nero Wolfe, Archie Goodwin, and the other recurring characters who were so brilliantly created and depicted by Mr. Stout.

I also thank my agent, Martha Kaplan, as well as Otto Penzler and Charles Perry of Mysterious Press and the fine team at Open Road Integrated Media, all of whom have supplied much-appreciated support and encouragement.

And I save my biggest thanks for my wife, Janet, who has been a partner in every aspect of my life for well over a half century.

From Some Buried Caesar by Rex Stout (1939)