Fade to Black by Rex Stout & Robert Goldsborough

Author:Rex Stout & Robert Goldsborough
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: detective, mystery, Nero Wolfe
ISBN: 9781453268995
Publisher: MysteriousPress.com/Open Road
Published: 2012-11-13T08:00:00+00:00

TWELVE

THE BALANCE OF WEDNESDAY IS barely worth mentioning, other than to note that Wolfe decided to take a break from his strenuous labors. After the departure of the Foreman Three, he (a) ignored or deflected my attempts to talk about the case, (b) made his usual two-hour afternoon visit to the orchids, (c) burrowed into his book before dinner, and (d) plunged right back into the book when we were back in the office with coffee.

Finally, just before I left for a postprandial bridge game at Lily’s apartment, he gave in to what he calls my “badgering” and allowed as to how it would be a good idea if I paid a visit to Harlowe Conn, the “Gray Eagle” up on Madison Avenue. Which is why, at ten o’clock Thursday morning, I went to a nondescript modern building on Madison in the Forties and was in the chrome-and-salmon reception area of the executive suite at Colmar & Conn, an advertising agency which, I learned from the elevator starter, occupies a full eight floors and part of a ninth.

“I’m sorry, sir,” the tight-lipped receptionist with half-glasses had told me primly, not sounding the least bit sorry, “but Mr. Conn sees no one without an appointment.”

“I understand,” I told her, smiling like an encyclopedia salesman, “but he might like to know I’m here.” I handed her my eggshell-colored calling card, the one that in addition to my name has “Office of Nero Wolfe” engraved in the lower left-hand corner. She considered it, sniffed, and said, “I’ll see that Mr. Conn gets this.”

“Fine. I’ll wait.”

“I don’t know that Mr. Conn is even in at the moment.” Her tone would have frozen halibut.

“I’d appreciate it if you could find out,” I replied, still using the encyclopedia salesman’s smile. Realizing she was stuck with me, Tight Lips left her desk and bustled through a door to some inner sanctum, returning less than a half-minute later.

“I gave it to his secretary,” she said, obviously offended that I had forced her to leave her post unguarded.

I sat for five minutes flipping through a glossy, oversized brochure titled “The Many Worlds of Colmar & Conn,” which was filled with color photos of magazine and TV advertising for their clients, most of whom seemed to be Fortune 500 companies. I was admiring pictures of a commercial for a sports car that was shot in the Swiss Alps when a tall, slender blonde of indeterminate age wearing a tailored beige suit emerged through the inner sanctum doorway.

She walked up to me, smiling. “Mr. Goodwin? I’m Adrian, Mr. Conn’s secretary. He can see you now; I’ll show you the way.”

I said thank you and followed her, winking at Tight Lips, who frowned and quickly looked away, busying herself with the Times crossword puzzle. “Mr. Conn wasn’t expecting you, so he had to juggle a couple of meetings, which is why you were kept waiting,” Adrian said, still smiling. “He’s sorry for the delay.”

“It’s I who should apologize, for coming unannounced,” I said, neglecting to add that I purposely had not phoned for an appointment.

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