Archie Meets Nero Wolfe Read online

  “You are correct,” Williamson said tightly, biting his lower lip. “I do not know what your specific assignments are, but Waverly can direct each of you to the proper individual.” He pushed a buzzer on his desk, and within seconds, the butler appeared in the doorway, standing at attention.

  “These gentlemen will need to be directed, Waverly.” Then he turned to us. “Now if you all will excuse me, I must go upstairs to my wife,” he said as the others filed out behind the butler.

  “Mr. Goodwin and I are to talk to both of you,” Panzer said quietly but firmly.

  Williamson spun around, eyebrows raised. “Lillian and me? But why?”

  “Mr. Wolfe requested that we interview everyone here.”

  Our host clearly was peeved but sighed in resignation. “Do you want us together or separately?” he asked Panzer.

  “Separately would be preferable, sir.”

  “All right, you can start with me, then, right now. Let’s get it over with.” He dropped into the upholstered chair behind his ornate desk as his padded shoulders sagged.

  “Were you here when your son disappeared?”

  “No, no,” he snapped. “I already told Wolfe that. I had gone to Manhattan, to my office in the Olympus Hotels headquarters on Fifth Avenue. Charles drove me to the village depot about three miles from here and I took the 7:35 commuter train into Penn Station.”

  “You also told Mr. Wolfe that the telephone company out here does not have the ability to trace calls, I believe.”

  “As a director of the local company, I am sorry to concede that is true,” the hotelier said grimly, shaking his head. “If I have anything to say about it, and I believe I will, that condition will soon change, however. You must understand that we have only had dial instruments in this area for a little more than a year now.”

  “How many telephones do you have here?” Panzer asked.

  Williamson frowned and looked at the ceiling. “Let’s see ... counting one each in the greenhouse, the stables, and the kitchen downstairs ... we have seven—no, eight.”

  “All of them on the same number?”

  “Certainly not! Each one of these instruments is on a separate outside line. It is my way of trying to promote greater telephone usage by getting people to have more than one line in their homes. In fact, a local newspaper some months back did a feature on all our phone lines here, which I encouraged. And I—” He stopped and looked sharply at Panzer. “Just why are you so curious about our telephone arrangements?”

  Panzer squared his narrow shoulders, as if preparing for an argument. “It is possible, isn’t it, that the call that brought Miss Moore inside from the yard could have been made from elsewhere in the house or on the grounds?”

  “Possible, yes. Probable, not at all! Not at all! As I told you before, sir, no one in my employ here is capable of this ... this ... Williamson exhaled loudly and slapped a palm down on his desk as if to complete the sentence.

  “Mr. Wolfe expects us to explore every avenue,” Panzer said in a quiet but firm tone. “You hired him because he is widely known to be thorough, and he expects those of us who work for him to be thorough as well.”

  “Yes, of course,” Williamson said in a whisper. “Sorry, but my nerves are raw.”

  Panzer nodded. “Certainly understandable. Have there been any previous attempts to kidnap your son?”

  “None, although my wife and I would be irresponsible if we did not make every effort to protect Tommie,” he said as his voice started to crack. “He has been driven to and from school each day, and he never plays out in the yard alone, except for ... He didn’t have to finish the sentence.

  “Do you have any theories as to how Tommie disappeared from the grounds here?”

  Williamson scowled. “We are again going over ground I already covered with Nero Wolfe. No, I am completely baffled as to what happened.”

  “Are the front gates to the property always kept open?” I asked.

  “Yes. There is no reason to keep them shut. We have a lot of deliveries—tradesmen, grocers, and the like. And Tommie never plays in front of the house.”

  “Have you, or anyone on your staff, noticed anyone on the grounds or in the neighborhood who appears to have no business being there?”

  “No, I haven’t seen or heard of anybody unusual or out of place hanging around. Other than the boy who delivered the ransom note, of course.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Panzer said. “May we talk to Mrs. Williamson now?”

  “I’ll go up and get her,” Williamson replied, rising with effort and walking stiffly out.

  “Too many darn phone lines in this place,” I said after he had left. “Not only is Williamson a hotel baron, he seems to be a telephone tycoon as well.”

  “And a tycoon who’s determined to show off the product,” Panzer said.

  “So, like me, you figure it’s an inside job?”

  “Sure seems that way,” he answered, scratching his oversized nose. “But maybe the other guys will come up with something to point us in a different direction.” He didn’t sound convinced, though.

  “Well, I think—” I stopped because a tall, elegant woman in a mauve housecoat had entered the room. She reminded me of many of the ladies I used to see at our country club back home where I caddied as a kid. I could see how she would look regal atop a horse.

  “I am Lillian Williamson,” she said in a quietly cultured tone as we both rose and introduced ourselves. “Please sit.” She took a chair and clasped well-tended hands in her lap.

  Panzer thanked her for seeing us and asked if she had any thoughts at all about who might have kidnapped her son.

  “None whatever,” she said, starting to tear up.

  “Does your son have a lot of close friends at school?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “Not terribly close. Oh, there have been a couple of boys here to play once or twice after school. In each case, a parent or chauffeur came along as well. We’re all pretty protective of our children around here.”

  “Has Tommie gone to any classmates’ houses as well?”

  “Yes, yes he has, on a few occasions. Each time, he was taken by Charles—that’s Charles Bell, our chauffeur, who stayed there while he played and then brought him back home.”

  “And Mr. Bell drives him to and from the school every day also, correct?” Panzer asked.

  “Yes. Tommie’s school, MeadesGate Academy, is about six miles from here, a ten- or fifteen-minute drive,” she said, studying her hands.

  “What does the boy’s nanny, Sylvia Moore, do while he’s in school all day?” Panzer asked.

  “She is very useful here in so many ways,” Lillian Williamson said. “She acts as my unofficial social secretary. I am involved in numerous charities and fund-raising events, both here and in the city, and that entails a great deal of correspondence. Sylvia is not only wonderful with Tommie, helping him with his schoolwork and such, but she also takes shorthand and is an excellent typist. She has done as many as forty letters a day for me.”

  “You are very fortunate to have such a versatile individual in your employ,” Panzer said.

  “Yes, I am, and she also is a valued companion. As you may be aware, I ride a great deal, both competitively and simply for enjoyment. We have a bridle path on the property. Often Sylvia rides with me. She is wonderful company, and an excellent sounding board for ideas I have involving the various charities it is my privilege to work with.”

  “Where were you when your son disappeared?” I asked.

  She looked down again, as if studying her lap. “I was up in my room on the second floor, talking on the telephone to my cochairman of a benefit ball we are planning at the Plaza Hotel. Burke had already left for his office, and Sylvia called up to me loudly from downstairs that Tommie had ... was ... gone.” She put her head in her hands and began sobbing.

  We sat in silence for close to a minute. Lillian Williamson looked up and took a deep breath, then another, sniffling. “Please forgi
ve me, gentlemen,” she said, composing herself.

  “Nothing whatever to forgive,” Panzer said. “We appreciate your taking time to see us. Is it correct to assume that you have no suspicions involving anyone in your employ?”

  “That is absolutely correct, Mr. Panzer. I trust them all, completely and without reservation. And I simply cannot understand who could have telephoned Sylvia and then not been on the wire when she came inside. It is all so horrible.”

  We both agreed, and Panzer then asked Mrs. Williamson if we could talk to Sylvia Moore.

  “I will get her for you,” she answered, standing and leaving with the grace of one who gave the appearance of being fully in control of her emotions, although we knew otherwise.

  About five minutes later, a slim and attractive blond woman with a heart-shaped face tiptoed into the room. She looked younger than her twenty-six years.

  I flashed what I hoped was a winning smile. “Miss Moore?”

  That drew a nod but no smile in return.

  “Please sit down,” Panzer said. “You will recall meeting me briefly yesterday.”

  “Yes, sir, I do,” she said, backing cautiously up to a chair, perching on its front few inches, and looking as if she was ready to bolt out through the doorway at the first opportunity.

  “This is my colleague, Mr. Goodwin. We are here at the request of Mr. Williamson, and we have a few questions we’d like to ask you.”

  “Are you policemen?”

  “Private investigators. And I assure you that we want exactly what you want: the safe return home of Tommie Williamson.”

  “Oh yes, oh yes!” She blinked her red-rimmed baby blues and looked like she hadn’t slept well.

  Panzer leaned forward, elbows on knees and expression earnest. “First, it would be helpful to know something of the routine in this house. Yesterday morning, Tommie disappeared from the backyard before he was to leave for school. Is it common for him to be outside in the morning?”

  She cleared her throat before speaking and kneaded a handkerchief in both hands. “Yes, very common. His mother likes him to get some exercise and fresh air after breakfast, assuming the weather is good. He doesn’t get another chance to be outside until his noon break at school, when the students get some recess time after lunch.”

  “And you are usually outside with Tommie?” I put in.

  “Always, at least until ... until yesterday.” More twisting of the hankie.

  “What does he normally do during that time?”

  “Yesterday, he was gathering different kinds of leaves for a school project,” she said. “Sometimes, we fly a kite or hit tennis balls around on the court or take a short swim in the pool or he has a brief ride on one of his mother’s horses, the tamest one. When that happens, which is once or twice a week, I ride along with him on another horse.”

  “Is everyone on the household staff familiar with these routines?” Panzer asked.

  “Oh yes. Our schedule varies somewhat in the summer, when Tommie is not in school, but even then, we usually are outside in the back at some point during the morning. The property is so large and so well equipped, there is always something to do.”

  “Were you surprised to get summoned to the telephone yesterday?”

  “Yes—that has never happened before.”

  “Please describe the situation.”

  “I was ... in the backyard, about, oh, only about ten or fifteen yards from the house, helping Tommie identify leaves, when Mary—that’s Mary Trent, the housemaid—came to the door of the terrace and called out to me that I had a telephone call, and that it sounded urgent. My mother in Virginia has been very ill, heart problems, and I was afraid that’s what the call was about. I ran inside without ... well, without thinking about Tommie.”

  “Were the Williamsons and the others on the staff aware of your mother’s health problems?” Panzer posed.

  “Oh yes. We are a fairly close-knit group most of the time, particularly the women, which is comforting.”

  “So you ran into the house. What next?”

  “Mary was waiting at the French doors and told me that the call came to the instrument in the hallway just off the dining room. When I got there and picked up the receiver, there was no one on the other end. I clicked the cradle several times, but got no answer, nothing at all. I’m afraid that I started shouting ‘Who is there?’ or something similar to that. Then, I got the operator on the wire, but she couldn’t help me at all. I wasted all that time, while Tommie was ... She lifted her shoulders and let them drop.

  “What did Mary Trent tell you about the voice of the caller and what this individual said to her?”

  “She told me it was a man, and he said to her in a frantic voice, a hoarse voice, ‘I must talk to Sylvia Moore right away. It is terribly important, a matter of life and death! Get her—and please hurry!’”

  Panzer ran a hand through his hair. “How long would you estimate you were in the house?”

  “Umm, maybe three or four minutes; I don’t think any longer than that. It is really hard to tell exactly, though, because I was so upset about my mother. Also, it took time to reach the operator.”

  “And you went back out into the yard then?”

  “Yes. When I didn’t see Tommie where I had left him, I thought he must have come inside while I was on the telephone. But we—me, Mary, Emily Stratton, the housekeeper—all looked around the house and couldn’t find him anywhere. That’s when we told Mrs. Williamson what had happened, and we all moved out to the grounds. Everybody on the staff became part of the search.”

  “Did the rest of them, the staff that is, know that you would be outside with Tommie collecting leaves in the morning?” I asked.

  “Why ... yes, they did. I mentioned it when we were at dinner in our kitchen the night before, but that’s not at all uncommon. I often talk about what projects Tommie and I are working on. The others, particularly the women, like to hear what he’s up to. They’re all very fond of him,” she said, her upper lip quivering.

  Panzer gave her an understanding look. “Miss Moore, has it occurred to you that the purpose of that call was to get you into the house and away from Tommie?”

  She struggled to maintain her composure. “Not until some time later, after I had called my mother and learned she was all right, and found that no one back home had placed a long-distance telephone call to me. What I cannot understand is how the caller knew I would be outside with Tommie at that very moment, and how he got word to whoever took Tommie.”

  “That is what we intend to discover,” Panzer said, “and very quickly. Can you show us the exact spot in the yard where Tommie was when you got called into the house?”

  We left the house, walked across a terrace with its tables and umbrellas, and down four steps into a yard that seemed to go on forever, past the pool and tennis courts. Off to the left were both a greenhouse and what I later learned were the stables.

  We crossed a gravel driveway that curved around the house from the front and led to the garage. A few yards beyond the driveway, Sylvia Moore bent down and pointed to a small stack of leaves. “These were what Tommie was collecting when I left him right here,” she sniffled, picking up the leaves and handling them as though they were precious objects. We had not had rain for days, so any kind of tracks on the grass were out of the question, and the gravel on the driveway appeared to have recently been raked.

  “Anything else that we should know?” Panzer asked the young woman.

  Sylvia shook her head and studied her shoes. “Only that this is all my fault,” she murmured, “all my fault.”

  “I don’t believe the Williamsons are blaming you,” I told her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

  “Well, they should!” she said as she walked back toward the mansion.

  CHAPTER 8

  As we piled into the Heron sedan for the trip back to Manhattan, Fred Durkin beat Orrie Cather to the spot next to the driver, drawing a frown from Cather. “Oh, can it, Orrie,
you’re slimmer than I am,” Fred snapped, looking over his shoulder. “You can stand to be back there better than me.”

  “I can’t help it if you’re overweight. Besides, I’m the one who found out today just how the kid got hustled off the estate.”

  “What?” barked Del Bascom. “When did you—?”

  “That’s enough,” Panzer interrupted as he started the car. “We’re not going to discuss anything about this case till we’re with Mr. Wolfe. He needs to hear everything fresh, not after we’ve hashed it over among ourselves.”

  “Oh yeah? Just who put you in charge?” Cather said, practically hissing.

  “As a matter of fact, Mr. Wolfe did. Go ahead and ask him if you don’t believe me.”

  That shut Cather up, and for the rest of the drive into Manhattan, the conversation centered on the pennant races, and whether both the Giants and the Yankees would make it into the World Series. The verdict: Yankees, yes; Giants, no. It turned out that neither team made it. As we neared West Thirty-Fifth Street, Panzer checked his wristwatch. “Mr. Wolfe should be coming down right now.”

  “Coming down from where?” I asked.

  “The plant rooms, Archie,” Durkin said. “He spends four hours a day in a greenhouse up on the top floor of his place, where he grows thousands of orchids, all different colors. I’ve only been up there once, but I will never forget the sight. I can’t believe there’s a nursery anyplace with more orchids than he’s got.”

  “I’ll be damned. Four hours a day?”

  “That’s right,” Panzer said. “Nine to eleven and four to six. He is very rigid about it, almost never misses a day, even when he’s knee-deep in a case.”

  “And he’s got a crabby gardener up there to help tend them orchids,” Cather put in. “Grouchy old coot named Horstmann.”

  “Anybody would figure to be crabby with you coming into the house, Orrie,” Durkin shot back. “He’s probably only grouchy when you’re hanging around.”