The Father Hunt

McCray was frowning. He turned the frown on me and demanded, 'Did I say that?'

I nodded. 'I can repeat it to the letter if you want it.'

'I don't. I must have been babbling.'

'No, you weren't babbling. I was asking you about her relations with everybody, including you, that was all. I asked if you remembered anything specific and you didn't.'

'Of course I didn't.' He turned to Wolfe. 'It's ridiculous. He sent her money for twenty4wo years because his son… absolutely ridiculous. Anyway, there's a reason… No. He wouldn't… No.' He pursed his lips,

eyed Wolfe, then me, and back at Wolfe. 'I want to make one thing plain. Two things. When Mr. Ballou asked me about those checks and I learned they had been charged to Cyrus Jarrett and delivered to him, I had no objection to that information being passed to you. I was perfectly willing to supply routine information- that's all it was, routine-that would make trouble for Cyrus Jarrett. God knows he has made enough trouble for me. But I wouldn't supply information that would make trouble for his son even if I had any, and I haven't. I have high regard for Eugene Jarrett, not only as a brother officer of our bank, but as a friend. I'll tell you this-anybody could tell you this-for ten years Eugene Jarrett and his father haven't been on speaking terms. My opinion of his father is mild compared to his. Of course with him it's more personal, fattier and son; you know how deep that can go. If Cyrus Jarrett continued sending money to that woman-Carlotta Vaughn or Elinor Denovo-for the past ten years, it wasn't on account of his son, that's sure.'

He put his palms on the chair arms and levered himself to his feet. 'I'm going,' he said. 'You can forget Eugene Jarrett. But if I had any more information that would help with his father you'd be welcome to it. Frankly, I would like to see him get hurt, really hurt, and so would other people I could name, and he did send those checks for twenty-two years. Was it blackmail? Did she know something that would hurt? If so I hope you dig it up. Frankly, I would help if I could. Do you…' He hesitated. 'If it needs any financing…'

'It doesn't. I have a client.'

'Well, then…' He turned and started out, so slow, his feet dragging, that I didn't have to hurry to beat him to the hall and on to the front. At the door he thought he had something to say, but decided not to. His car, down at the curb, was a 1965 Imperial.

In the office Wolfe was pulling at his earlobe, his eyes, closed. I went to my desk and sat, and said, 'If you want my opinion, we wasted not only Ms time but ours too. I don't buy his slant on the son, even if they hate each other's guts. His obligation was to the mother, not the father. Damn it, it's got to be the son. Who else?'

He grunted and his eyes opened. 'What if our basic as-

sumption is false? What if the payments had no connection with the birth?'

'We're sunk. We bow out. But in that case there wasn't just one lie in Elinor's letter, the whole damn letter was a lie, and I don't believe it. If the payments had nothing to do with Amy, why did Elinor keep it, every century of it, for her?'

'Women are random clusters of vagaries.'

'Who said that?'

'I did.'

'Not that random.'

His shoulders went up and down. 'Have you time for a letter before you leave? To be mailed now?'

'No. But I might as well start making up for the boner I pulled.' I got my office notebook from a drawer. 'Miss Rowan will feed me no matter what time I come. She's the understanding type.'

'Pfui.' He would never forget the time she had called him Pete and he had had Houri de Perse perfume sprinkled on him. 'Have you Eugene Jarrett's home address?'

I nodded. 'I got it this morning. I thought Saul might need it.'

'To him at his home, special delivery. Dear Mr. Jar-rett: On behalf of a client I need information regarding the activities and associates of Miss Carlotta Vaughn during the years nineteen forty-three and nineteen forty-four, comma, when she was in your father's employ, comma, and I have been told that you may be able to supply some details. Period. I shall appreciate it if you will kindly call at my office, comma, at the above address, comma, on Monday, comma, at eleven in the morning, comma, or at either two-thirty or six in the afternoon. Period. I hope that one of those hours will be convenient for you. Sincerely yours.'

'Why not offer him nine in the evening too?'

'As you know, I don't like to work after dinner. But I suppose… Very well. Add it.'

I pulled the typewriter around and got out paper and carbon.

An hour later, as I headed north on the Henry Hudson Parkway, keeping to sixty, I wasn't on a perch either professionally or personally. Professionally, the client was

being neglected. I had phoned her Friday morning that it was very unlikely that Jarrett was her father, and told her why, and that was all. She deserved to know that she had been right about Denovo, that her mother's real name was Carlotta Vaughn; at least we could give her that for the eight days we had been on it. Personally, there I was bound for a swimming pool in a glade while Orrie was in Washington digging into army records and Saul and Fred were poking into holes that were probably empty. I should have been doing something brilliant, like finding a mattress somewhere with hairs from two human heads on it which a scientist would prove