The Father Hunt

That's what my memory took home for me. I accompanied him on the short walk back to bis job, for a look at the main office of the Seaboard Bank and Trust Company from the outside, thanked him for the lunch, and spent ten minutes on the toughest job in New York, finding a vacant hack. I finally beat a guy with a limp to one. When it rolled to a stop in front of the old brown-stone at twenty minutes to three, I had arranged in my mind a draft all ready for the typewriter. As follows:

CARLOTTA VAUGHN RESUME

from Bertram McCray, August 24, 1967

Up to May 1942

Not known, but according to her via McCray, somewhere in Wisconsin for most of it.

May 1942, to November 1943

Mrs. Jarrett's secretary. Lived there.

November 1943, to March 1944

Jarrett's home secretary. Lived there. March 1944, to October 1944, which includes the month Amy was conceived.

Living elsewhere, presumably in oar near New York,

since McCray saw her at Jarrett's house three or

four times.

October 1944, to July 2, 1945, which includes April 12,1945, Amy's birthday.

Nothing known. July 2,1945

Elinor Denovo walked in on Raymond Thome.

7

When, at five minutes to six that afternoon, I braked the Heron to a stop at the edge of the gravel in front of the main entrance to the Jarrett mansion, it was dark enough for midnight. Clouds had been making passes as far south as Hawthorne Circle. At Shrub Oak they had closed ranks, and at Millbrook they had cut loose on three fronts: for the ears, noise to scare you; for the eyes, flashes to blind you; and for the skin, water to soak you. It stayed right with me the rest of the way, and having made it to my destination in spite of the big try at stopping me, I turned off the engine and pocketed the key, switched the lights off, reached to the back seat for my raincoat, the spare that is always there, draped it over my head, opened the door, and dashed across the gravel for cover.

My reception was fully down to expectations. It was Oscar who opened the door after I had pushed the button three times. In the circumstances it wasn't only natural, it was compulsory, for any fellow being to say 'Quite a storm' or 'Are you wet?' or 'Nice day for ducks.' He barely gave me room enough to enter without brushing him.

I was expected. Often, after I make a report to Wolfe, there is a long discussion, and sometimes an argument which stops just short of me quitting or him firing me, about what comes next, but that time it had been obvious. The discussion had lasted maybe three minutes, then I had pulled the phone around and dialed area code 914 and a number, and got the same male voice I had got the day before. I didn't know if it was Oscar because Oscar in person had said very little in my hearing.

'This is Archie Goodwin,' I said. 'I was there yesterday. Please tell Mr. Jarrett that I am coming again. I'll be there in about two hours.'

'I can't do that, Mr. Goodwin. Mr. Jarrett has given orders that you are not to be admitted. There's a man at the entrance, and he-'

'Yeah. Excuse me for interrupting. I expected that, that's why I'm phoning. Please tell Mr. Jarrett that I want to ask him for some information about Carlotta Vaughn.' I repeated the name, distinctly. 'Carlotta Vaughn. He'll recognize that name. I'll hold the wire.'

'But I assure you, Mr. Goodwin-'

'I assure you, sir. He won't thank you for the message, but he'll see me.'

A brief silence; then: 'Hold the wire.'

The wait was longer than the ones the day before. Wolfe, with his receiver in one hand, was adjusting the spray of Miltonia hellemense in the vase on his desk with the other. Finally the voice came.

'Mr. Goodwin?'

'I'm here.'

'You say in two hours?'