“Nothing.” Noel stood up. “Hell, what can I lose that I’ve got? Let’s go.”
I went to the kitchen to get the hamper.
Chapter 13
About two miles northeast of Katonah you turn off the highway, right, pass between two stone pillars, proceed up the graveled drive, an easy slope, winding, about four hundred yards, and there is the house, old gray stone with high, steep roofs. At a guess, not as many rooms as Frost’s on Long Island-say twenty-five, maybe less. Trees and other things with leaves, big and little, were all around, and a lot of lawn, but although I can’t qualify as an expert I had the impression that they weren’t getting quite enough attention. Saul eased the Heron to a stop a foot short of the bushes that bordered a surfaced rectangle at the side of the house, and we climbed out. He was at the wheel because at Hawthorne Circle I had decided that I could use some of the contents of the hamper, which they had all been working on, and I don’t like one-handed driving.
Noel, in between bites of sturgeon or cheese or rhubarb tart, or swallows of wine, had briefed us on the prospect and answered questions. The house itself looked like the best bet. Not only was there no likely spot in the stable, which no longer held horses, or the kennels, which no longer held dogs, but also Jimmy would have risked being seen by the caretaker if he had lugged a suitcase to one of them in the open. Nor was there any likely spot in the garage, which was connected with the house. The only other outbuilding was a six-room stone structure in the rear, living quarters for servants, occupied now only by the caretaker. Something really fancy, like wrapping the suitcase in plastic and burying it somewhere on the grounds, was of course out, with the caretaker around. The house was the best bet, and not the cellar, since there was no part of it that the caretaker might not poke around in, or, later, if the suitcase was to stay put for a while, a servant or even a member of the family.
As we climbed out a man appeared from around a corner-a tall, lanky specimen in a red wool shirt and dungarees who hadn’t shaved for at least three days. As he caught sight of Noel he spoke. “Oh, it’s you, Mr Tedder?”
“On my own two feet,” Noel said, meeting him and offering a hand. Either he believed in democracy or Wolfe had made it a habit. “How are you, Jake?”
“I’ll make out if they don’t trip me.” Jake gave us a glance. “The roof, huh? We had a shower Friday and it leaked again. I phoned your mother.”
“She’s been… not so good.”
Jake nodded. “Too bad about Mr Vail. Terrible thing. You know they’ve been after me, but what could I tell ’em? For nearly a week all kinds of people drivin’ in. I’m takin’ no chances.” His hand went to his hip pocket and came out with a gun, an old black Marley.32. He patted it. “Maybe I couldn’t hit a rabbit, but I can scare ’em off.” He put it back. “You want to see in your mother’s room where it leaked?”
“Not today, Jake.” Noel’s squeak wasn’t so squeaky; perhaps his voice was changing. “My mother may be out this week. These men are detectives from New York and they want to look around in the house. They think there may be something-I don’t know exactly what. You know how detectives are. Is there a door open?”
Jake nodded. “The back door’s open, the one off the kitchen. I cook and eat in the kitchen, better tools there. Your mother knows I do. Lucky I had bacon and eggs on hand when he came Wednesday morning. Terrible thing about him. I sure do know how detectives are, I do now.” He looked at us. “No offense to you fellows.”
Obviously one of us ought to say something, so I said, “We don’t offend easy. We know how caretakers are too.”
“I bet you do.” He chuckled. “I just bet you do. You want me to help with anything, Mr Tedder?”
“No, thanks. We’ll make out. This way, Goodwin.” Noel headed for the corner Jake had come from, and we followed.
To prove how competent and experienced we are I could describe the next forty minutes in detail, but it wouldn’t help you any more than it did us. We had learned from Noel that the possibilities were limited. Jimmy Vail had been a town man and had never got intimate with this country place. His bedroom was the only spot in the house he had had personal relations with, so we tried that first, but after we had looked in the two closets and the bottom drawer of a chest, then what? The bed was a big old walnut thing with a canopy, and there was enough room under it for an assortment of wardrobe trunks, but room was all there was.
We went all around, downstairs and up. We even spent ten minutes in the cellar, most of it in a storage room where there were some ancient pieces of luggage along with the other stuff. We looked in the garage, which was big enough for five cars, and there in a corner saw something that would have seemed promising if it hadn’t been there in the open where anyone might have lifted the lid-a big old-fashioned trunk. I did lift the lid and saw something that took me back to my boyhood days in Ohio. But a couple of cardboard boxes had held my two- year collection of birds’ eggs, and here were dozens of compartments, some with one egg and some with two or three. I asked Noel if they were his, and he said no, they had been his father’s, and the trunk held more than three hundred different kinds of eggs. I lifted the tray out, and underneath it was another tray, not so many compartments but bigger eggs. Orrie came for a look and said, “Let’s take that. It may not be worth half a million, but it’s worth something.” I put the top tray back in and was shutting the lid when I heard the sound of a car.
The garage doors were closed and the sound was faint, but I have good ears. The parking area where we had left the Heron was on this side of the house, but not in front of the garage. The door we had come through was standing open-the door from the garage to a back hall. I stepped to it quietly and poked my head through, and in a moment heard a voice I had heard before. Margot Tedder. She was asking Jake whose car that was. Then Jake, telling her: her brother Noel and four detectives from New York who were searching the house for something. Margot asked, searching for what? Jake didn’t know. Then Margot calling her brother, a healthier yell than I thought she had in her: “Noel!
Preferring the garage to the outdoors as a place for a conference, I sang out, “We’re in the garage!” and turned and told Noel, “It’s your sister.”
