married sixteen years ago to get me home by two o’clock feeding. So we have that much time.” He glanced at the glass of Scotch and water Grover had moved to the edge of the desk blotter. “First I must ask you how much you’ve had to drink tonight.”
“I’ve had whatever’s gone from that glass, Inspector. An ounce of whiskey? Less?” Fletch asked, “You really have inspectors in Boston, uh?”
“There is one: me.”
“Good grief.”
“I’d say that’s a most precise definition. I’m greatly taken with it, myself, and I’m sure Grover is—Inspector of Boston Police as being ‘good grief.’ The man has his humor, Grover. However, we were speaking of the man’s drinking. How much did you have to drink at dinner?”
“A split. A half bottle of wine.”
“He’ll even define ‘split’ for us, Grover. A remarkably definitive man. You had nothing to drink dinner?”
“Nothing I was eating alone.”
“And you’re going to tell me you had nothing to drink on the airplane all way across the Mediterranean Sea and then the full girth of the Atlantic Ocean, water, water everywhere….”
“I had coffee after we took off. A soft drink with lunch, or whatever it was they served. Coffee afterwards.”
“Were you traveling first class?”
“Yes.”
“The drinks are free in first class, I’ve heard.”
“I had nothing to drink on the airplane, or before boarding the airplane. I had nothing to drink at the airport, nothing here, wine at the restaurant, and this half glass while I’ve been waiting for you.”
“Grover, would you make a note, that in my opinion Mister Fletcher is entirely sober?”
“Would you like a drink, Inspector?” Fletch asked.
“Ach, no. I never touch the dirty stuff. The once I had it, the night after being a student in Dublin, it gave me a terrible headache. I woke up the next morning dead. The thing is, this crime of passion would be much easier to understand if you had a bottle or two of the old, juice within you.”
“You may find that is so,” Fletch said. “When you find the murderer.”
“Are you a married man yourself, Mister Fletcher?”
“I’m engaged.”
“To be married?”
“I expect to be married. Yes.”
“And what is the name of this young lady whose luck, at the, moment, is very much in question?”
“Andy.”
“Now why didn’t I guess that myself? Write down ‘Andrew,’ Grover.”
“Angela. Angela de Grassi. She’s in Italy”
“She’s in Italy, too, Grover. Everyone’s in Italy except he who has just come from there. Make a social note. She didn’t come with you due to her prejudice against the Boston weather?”
“There are some family problems she has to straighten out.”
“And what would the nature of such problems be?”
“I attended her father’s funeral yesterday, Inspector.”
“Ach. Dicey time to leave your true love’s side.”
“She should be coming over in a few days.”
“I see. And what is it you do for a living?”
“I write on art.”
“You’re an art critic?”
“I don’t like the words ‘art critic.’ I write on the arts.”
“You must make a fortune at it, Mister Fletcher. First class air tickets, this lavish, opulent apartment the clothes you’re wearing….”
“I have some money of my own.”
“I see. Having money of your own opens up a great many careers which otherwise might be considered marginal. By the way, what is that painting over the desk? You can’t see it from where you are.”
“It’s a Ford Madox Brown.”
“It’s entirely my style of work.”
“Nineteenth-century English.”
“Well, that’s one thing I’m not, is nineteenth-century English. And who with a touch of humanity in him would be? When did you notice it yourself? The painting, I mean?”
“While I was calling the police.”
“You mean to say, while you were calling the police to report a murder, you were looking at a painting?”
“I guess so.”
“Then, indeed, you must be a most relentless writer-on-the-arts. I understand you used the Police Business phone to report the heinous deed rather than Police Emergency.”
“Yes.”
“Why is that?r
“Why not? Nothing could be done at the moment. The girl was clearly dead. I’d rather leave the Emergency line clear for someone who needed the police immediately, to stop a crime in progress, or get someone to a hospital.”
“Mister Fletcher, people with stutters and stammers and high breathlessness call the Police Emergency number to report a cat in a tree. Did you look up the Police Business number in a book?”
“The operator gave it to me.”
“I see. Were you ever a policeman yourself?”
“No.”
“Just wondering. Something about your sophistication regarding bodies in the parlor. The conciseness of answers. After a murder, usually it’s only the policemen who want to get to bed. Where was I?”
“I have no idea,” Fletch said. “In the nineteenth century?”
“No. I’m not in the nineteenth century, Mister Fletcher. I’m in Boston, and I’m wondering what you’re doing here.”
“I’m here to do research. I want to try a biography of the Western artist, Edgar Arthur Tharp, Junior. He as born and brought up here in Boston, you know, Inspector.”
“I do know that.”
“The Tharp family papers are here. The Boston Museum has a great many of his works.”
“Have you ever been in Boston before?”
“No.”
“Do you know anyone here?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Let’s go over your arrival in Boston again, Mister Fletcher. It makes such a marvelous story. This time, tell me the approximate times of everything. Again, I remind you that Grover will take it all down, and we’re not supposed to correct him later, although I always do. Now: when did you land in Boston?”
“I was in the airport waiting for my luggage at three-forty. I set my watch by the airport clock.”
“What airlines? What flight number?”
“Trans World. I don’t know the flight number. I went through customs. I got a taxi and came here. I got here about five-thirty.”
“I understand about going through customs, but the airport is only ten minutes from here.”
“You’re asking me? I believe Traffic Control is also considered Police Business.”
The representative of Boston Police, said, “Ach, well, so, of course it was five o’clock. Where in particular did you get stuck?”
“In some crazy tunnel with a dripping roof and chirruping fans.”
“Ah, yes, the Callahan. I’ve sat in there myself. But at five o’clock the traffic in there usually gets stuck going north, not south.”
