Murder in the Ball Park Read online

  “I guess you could say so, among my many other functions here. But before I can try to persuade Mr. Wolfe, you need to persuade me that it’s worth my time to argue with him.”

  “It seems to me that he would relish the challenge,” Elise said. “A high-profile story like this. Just think of the publicity he would get.”

  “Miss DuVal, you may possess what you believe are well-placed sources, but it is clear you don’t know as much about Nero Wolfe as you think. Over the years, he has amassed mountains of attention—we have scrapbooks filled with newspaper clippings to attest to his success. At this stage, he does not feel he needs more publicity, nor does he go out of his way to seek it.”

  “But he surely doesn’t say no to more money, does he?” she purred. “And believe me, money is not an issue here. I am prepared to bring a blank check to you and have Mr. Wolfe fill in an amount.”

  Now Elise DuVal really did have my full attention. “Before we go on, do you have any theories as to who shot your husband?”

  “It could be any one of several people. As you probably are aware, Orson had made more than a few enemies during his years up in Albany. He was a man of strong personal convictions.”

  “I assume you have given the names of these enemies to the police.”

  She sniffed. “Of course I have. But the department did not seem to take me seriously.”

  “That does not sound like the Inspector Cramer I have come to know. He takes everything seriously, particularly murder.”

  “Oh, he did jot down some notes, of course, and he asked me a few questions. But I got the distinct impression that he felt I was wasting his time.”

  “Where were you when the shooting took place, Miss DuVal?”

  “Up in Albany. We rent an apartment there, given that Orson spends—spent—so much of his time in that burg. Between us, I don’t particularly like Albany, but I was there because Orson had a fund-raising dinner scheduled at one of their downtown hotels the next night, and he had asked me to be on the dais with him. I went up a day early on an afternoon train, about the same time as . . . as that baseball game.”

  “Other than the Albany apartment, where is home?”

  Orson’s legal address was his late parents’ home in Pawling. That allowed him to fulfill the residency requirement for holding office.

  “We have a duplex just off Park Avenue. In fact, one of our neighbors is a good friend of yours—in fact, a very good friend.”

  I knew where she was going, but I was damned if I was going to give her any help. “Is that so?” I said. “It may surprise you to learn that I happen to have a lot of good friends.”

  “I said a very good friend. And you know precisely who I am talking about—Lily Rowan.”

  “Ah, of course. And how is Lily?”

  “I am surprised that you would ask, Mr. Goodwin. I telephoned her first thing this morning before calling you, and she said the two of you spent last night dancing at the Flamingo Club until late into the evening. She informs me you are a superb dancer.”

  “Modesty forbids me from responding.”

  “I am sure that it does. Now what about my appointment with Nero Wolfe?” Her tone had hardened ever so slightly.

  “I will speak to him about it this very day.”

  “When he comes down from the plant rooms?” she asked. “I know he is up there with his orchids and his gardener, Theodore Horstmann, every day from nine to eleven in the morning and four to six in the afternoon, almost without exception.”

  “You seem to know a great deal about Mr. Wolfe’s routine.”

  “Lily has filled me in on all sorts of things, from those orchids to the wonderful meals you enjoy on a daily basis, cooked by a man named Fritz Brenner. She tells me he works wonders in the kitchen.”

  I made a mental note to ask Lily about her persistent neighbor and told Elise DuVal I would get back to her. When she pressed me as to exactly when she would be hearing from me, I ended the conversation with “I’ve got to go now; Mr. Wolfe is on his way down from those plant rooms you mentioned.”

  Which happened to be true. At two minutes after eleven by my watch, Nero Wolfe strode into the office and placed a raceme of purple-maroon cymbidium in the vase on his desk. “Good morning, Archie, did you sleep well?” he asked as he moved behind his desk and settled into the custom-built chair designed to accommodate his seventh of a ton.

  “Like a baby who just won the Irish Sweepstakes,” I said.

  He ignored my remark and began signing the letters I had typed and placed on his blotter. When he finished, I swiveled to face him. “We have a potential client who wants to see you,” I said.

  “I am otherwise occupied,” he snapped, reaching for the button under his desk drawer to ring Fritz in the kitchen for beer.

  “Really? Occupied with what? You have just signed all of your correspondence, which I will mail. You have no appointments this week or next, according to the calendar I so faithfully keep for you, unless you count your twice-daily trips up to the plant rooms to play with your orchids. I realize the bank balance is healthy at the moment, but you know how fast that can evaporate, what with the pending arrival of the gas bill, the electric bill, the phone bill, the grocery bill, and the beer bill. Then, of course, you’ve got my salary to worry about, plus those of Fritz, without whom you would starve, and Theodore, without whom your orchids would starve. And then there’s—”

  “Archie, you are prattling!”

  “Yes, sir, it is a bad habit of mine, as you know. It’s just that this potential client is prepared to hand you a blank check and have you ink in the amount.”

  “Is this twaddle?” Wolfe glared at me as Fritz entered from the kitchen with two chilled bottles of beer and a glass on a tray.

  “No, sir, it is not. The person wanting to see you is Elise DuVal, who is—”

  “I know who she is. I read the newspapers. Preposterous.”

  “And just what is so preposterous about a blank check that is just waiting for you to fill in the figure of your liking?”

  “My adjective refers to the reason the woman surely wants to hire me,” Wolfe said, draining half the beer from his glass and dabbing his lips with a handkerchief. “At this very moment, countless members of New York’s police force are assigned to finding the individual who shot that senator.”

  “I pointed that out to her, of course, but Elise DuVal feels that out city’s finest are not doing a good job.”

  “Nonetheless, Inspector Cramer is a general with an army under his command. As you know, the most I could marshal are three or four men, albeit able ones.”

  “There is one more thing I should mention.”

  “Yes?”

  “Miss DuVal is a very good friend of Miss Rowan.” I concede the “very good” was an overstatement.

  That earned me a glower. Ever since the first time Lily asked to see his ten thousand orchids in the three climate-controlled plant rooms on the roof, Wolfe has exempted her from his usual antipathy toward women. In fact, on those occasions when she drops by the brownstone, he seems almost pleased to see her, although I would never let on to him that I notice.

  “How do the women happen to know each other?” Wolfe asked. I explained that they are neighbors, and he leaned back, closing his eyes and interlacing his hands over his middle mound. After several minutes, he opened his eyes and sighed. “Tell Miss DuVal to be here tomorrow morning at eleven.”

  Chapter 3

  That afternoon when Wolfe was back up in the plant rooms, I telephoned Elise DuVal and told her he would see her.

  “That’s wonderful news! Tell me what I can do to get him to take me on as a client, Archie.”

  Obviously, she now felt we were on a first-name basis. “For starters, do not try to get cute with Mr. Wolfe, whatever else you do,” I said. “Just because he has agreed to see you
does not mean he will go to work for you. If I were taking book, I’d call it a long shot, three-to-one against. Be straightforward and businesslike when you come here.”

  “Archie, I am always straightforward and strictly business. Cross my heart.”

  “I’ll take your word for that. One more thing: Be prompt. When Mr. Wolfe says eleven o’clock, that is what he means—not five after.”

  “I will be on time, I promise. What should I wear?”

  “I am hardly qualified to act as a fashion consultant. Because you are coming here to discuss business, the best I can do is to suggest you dress in a businesslike manner. Which I am sure you will.”

  “I will be the very picture of decorum, Archie.”

  My next call was to Lily Rowan. “Escamillo,” she purred, using a pet name she had tagged me with several years earlier after I had a run-in with a charging bull in an upstate meadow, “am I to assume you are perhaps phoning to pump me for information about a certain fetching neighbor of mine who once was employed as an actress in that debauched California town?”

  “By chance, would you be referring to Hollywood?”

  “I would.”

  “Then you assume right. Elise DuVal, or the recently widowed Mrs. Orson Milbank if you prefer, has an appointment to see Mr. Wolfe tomorrow morning.”

  “Ah, so he is going to take on the case,” Lily said. “Interesting news. When she asked me about him, I said he probably wouldn’t have anything to do with it. I must say that I am surprised.”

  “Hold your surprise. He’s only agreed to see her, and I suspect that is mainly because she claims to be a friend of yours.”

  “I am flattered,” Lily said, “although I wouldn’t strictly term Elise a friend. Oh, she is a resident of this building, and with a very pleasing and well-decorated duplex, and she’s a decent sort, if you can get past those affectations that probably result from having spent too much time with those motion-picture types. We’ve attended several of the same parties over the last few years and we both serve on a couple of charitable committees—‘do-gooder groups’ as you persist in calling them. But other than that, we tend to travel in different social circles.”

  “You have never introduced me to her, and I’ve never even heard you mention her,” I said, trying to sound hurt.

  “I was merely trying to protect you, my dear. I feared that you might fall victim to her considerable charms.”

  “Indeed a risk,” I conceded. “What else can you tell me about the lady?”

  “I have always felt her marriage to the late senator was one of convenience—for them both,” Lily pronounced. “I’m sure she looked splendid on his arm at state dinners and other formal functions. And he helped fulfill her need to be in a limelight of sorts, now that her acting career appears to be history.”

  “Speaking of that career, I haven’t seen her on the silver screen, but I gather that La DuVal was never a candidate to win an Academy Award.”

  Lily laughed. “Any response I give to that is going to make me seem catty, Escamillo.”

  “I hereby attest that whatever you say will remain strictly between us,” I told her. “I have never called you catty, and I never will.”

  “That is only because you are such a gentleman. Okay, here goes. Several years ago, before I knew Elise, I did see one of the films she was in, and it was obvious to me that she had been cast for her, well . . . physical attributes, rather than any real or perceived acting abilities. Funny thing, though: As I have gotten to know her, I’ve come to realize that she’s a very bright, personable individual, quite likable. I think those Hollywood types purposely cast her as a ‘Dumb Dora’ and gave her inane lines. So maybe there was really a decent actress trying to break out from under all of that ridiculous and stupid dialogue that she got stuck parroting.”

  “Could be. You said theirs was a marriage of convenience. I’ve heard talk—and that’s all it is—that both she and her late husband may not have strictly honored their wedding vows.”

  “And I have heard the same thing, more than once,” Lily answered. “I don’t have specific knowledge of any hanky-panky, although it would not surprise me on the part of either one of them.”

  “A wonderful phrase, ‘hanky-panky.’ I must try to work it into a conversation sometime.”

  “Just don’t work it into your repertoire,” Lily said archly.

  “To think that you would suspect me of such knavery. Anything else you feel I should know about the former Hollywood starlet?”

  “I don’t think so, except to say that whatever her relationship was with the late senator, I can tell you based on what I’ve heard from mutual acquaintances that she is genuinely broken up over what has happened. On that front, she definitely is not acting.”

  At five minutes before eleven the next morning, our bell rang, and by prearrangement with Fritz, I did the honors, pulling open the front door to reveal one of the finest specimens of womanhood ever to call upon us. Elise DuVal may not have been a fine actress, but she certainly knew how to accent her more obvious assets, from her wavy red hair down to her well-shaped ankles. To her credit, she had chosen to wear a subdued green suit that qualified as businesslike, although it failed to camouflage her most prominent assets.

  “Hello, Mr. Archie Goodwin,” she chirped with a tilt of the head and the raising of an eyebrow. “I must say, Lily described you very well. If you are through devouring me with your eyes, will you invite me inside? I certainly do not want to be accused of keeping Nero Wolfe waiting.”

  I stepped aside to let her in, admiring the way she moved, self-assured but not arrogant, displaying her charms but not flaunting them. I seated her in the red leather chair, aware the positioning would afford Wolfe a good view of her legs—legs that were worth viewing.

  Elise had just settled into the chair when Wolfe entered, moving behind his desk, placing lavender orchids in his vase, and dipping his chin toward her. “Miss DuVal,” he said, sitting.

  “Mr. Wolfe,” she responded with a slight smile and a nod, making no attempt to hold out a paw to him. Lily Rowan had likely briefed her about Wolfe’s aversion to shaking hands.

  “Would you like something to drink?” he asked. “I am having beer.”

  “No, thank you, nothing,” she said demurely, gloved hands in her lap.

  “Very well,” he said after he had opened his first beer and poured it. “Mr. Goodwin tells me you wish to hire me. Am I to correct in assuming it is to identify the individual who killed your husband?”

  “Of course, you are correct!” she said, crossing one nylon-sheathed leg over the other and leaning forward. “As I told Arch—Mr. Goodwin, the police have gotten nowhere in their so-called investigation.”

  He drank beer and raised his eyebrows. “What makes you think I can improve upon their performance?”

  I waited with interest for Elise’s response, aware of how much Wolfe dislikes flattery.

  She cleared her throat. “You know a neighbor of mine, Lily Rowan. She has told me about some of the cases you have solved—cases that had totally stymied the New York Police Department. Now the police are yet again stymied. I have full confidence that you can identify my husband’s killer.”

  Wolfe scowled. “That is more confidence than I possess, madam. Also, at present I am not accepting commissions. I agreed to see you only because you are an acquaintance of Miss Rowan, who has been a guest in this house on numerous occasions.”

  Elise nodded, shifted in her chair, and drew a blank check from her purse, placing it on a corner of Wolfe’s desk with a flourish worthy of an on-screen gesture. She produced a gold fountain pen and began to write. I swiveled from my desk and by craning my neck was able to see the figure she put down. This was no longer a blank check. In fact, if it was not the largest retainer ever offered to Nero Wolfe, it easily ranked among the top ten.

  “Will this
persuade you to make an exception?” she asked, sliding the check toward Wolfe with a manicured finger.

  He eyed the draft without expression, considering Elise with narrowed eyes. “Madam, I would be guilty of dissembling if I were to say your offer did not tempt me,” he said. “Any man who proclaims that he cannot be purchased is either a liar or a lackwit, or perhaps both.”

  “So you accept?” Elise asked, squaring her shoulders and breaking into a grin that belonged in a magazine advertisement for toothpaste.

  “I do not, madam,” Wolfe said, pushing the check back toward her with an index finger. “I am tempted, to be sure, but am not now prepared to make a commitment. I must excuse myself, but I suggest you remain and discuss with Mr. Goodwin your suspicions as to who you feel killed your husband, and why. You will find him to be a thorough investigator. After your conversation, he will report to me and I will consider your request.”

  He stood, dipped his chin again, and walked out of the office. His destination surely was the kitchen, where he would attempt to supervise Fritz’s preparation of the broiled shad with sorrel sauce we would have for lunch.

  Chapter 4

  I knew what Wolfe was up to, of course, just as he knew that I knew. If he had turned Elise DuVal down flat, I would have badgered him endlessly about the big payday he was passing up. This way, he threw the ball to me and delayed his decision, as well as freeing himself from spending more time in the presence of a woman, albeit an attractive one. When asked, Wolfe will insist that he does not dislike the female sex. “They are astonishing and successful animals,” he once told me, adding that “for reasons of convenience, I merely preserve an appearance of immunity that I developed some years ago under the pressure of necessity.” When I pressed him further, he changed the subject, and over the years has consistently avoided being around women more than absolutely necessary, with the occasional exception of Lily.

  After Wolfe’s exit, Elise turned to me and cocked her head. “Well, Archie Goodwin, does this mean that you are going to give me the third degree?”