The Father Hunt by Rex Stout

Author:Rex Stout
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, pdf
Tags: Private Investigators, Mystery & Detective, Nero (Fictitious character), Private Investigators - New York (State) - New York, General, Wolfe, Mystery Fiction, Crime, Fiction
ISBN: 9780553762976
Publisher: Bantam
Published: 1995-01-02T05:04:06+00:00

9

The trouble with putting a box number on an ad instead of your name and address and phone number, especially if it's in three papers, is getting the replies. Phoning at ten o'clock Monday morning and learning that there were some, I went for them, got two at the Times and four at the Gazette, opened them there, and found them so screwy that I bothered to take them home only because I always keep everything connected with a job until it's finished. One was from a man who said Carlotta Vaughn was his grandmother, and maybe a Carlotta Vaughn was, but he didn't mention Elinor Denovo.

When I got back a little after eleven Fritz said there had been no calls, but as I entered the office the phone rang and I crossed to my desk, nodding to Wolfe on the way, and got it.

"Nero Wolfe's office, Archie Goodwin speaking."

Female voice: "Good morning. Mr. Jarrett would like to speak to Mr. Wolfe."

"Good morning. Please put Mr. Jarrett on."

"Is Mr. Wolfe there?"

"Yes."

"Please put him on."

"Now listen." I motioned to Wolfe. "Last Friday I got Mr. McCray for Mr. Wolfe and I was forced to put Mr. Wolfe on first You can't have it coming and going. Put Mr. Jarrett on or I hang up."

"May I have your name, please?"

"Archie Goodwin."

"Please hold the wire, Mr. Goodwin."

I timed it: two minutes and twenty seconds. Wolfe bad his phone.

"Eugene Jarrett speaking. Nero Wolfe?"

Me: "Please hold the wire, Mr. Jarrett."

Wolfe should have waited at least a minute, but he hates the phone, either holding or talking. "This is Nero Wolfe. Yes, Mr. Jarrett?"

"I have your letter. I'll come around six."

"Good. As I said in the letter, I'll appreciate it. I'll expect you."

They hung up together. There was a case where the approach took five minutes and the meet about ten seconds. A piece by a scientist in the Sunday New York Times Magazine which I had read during the weekend had explained why this is the age of instant communication.

There were some items in the morning mail that needed attention, or at least got it, but we were interrupted a few times by phone calls: from Saul, who had drawn nothing but blanks; from Fred, who had found three people who had recognized the photographs but hadn't been any help; and from Orrie, from Washington, who had verified most of Jarrett's places and dates and was working on the rest. The hospital part, which covered most of July, was airtight. You are probably thinking that the client was getting damned little for her money, and I agree. When I returned from a trip to1 the mailbox at the corner it was lunchtime, and as we crossed to the dining room Wolfe said something about Mr. Cramer and I asked if he had phoned. Wolfe said no, he had come, late Saturday afternoon.

I was sorry I had missed it because talk by those two is always worth hearing. You get good examples of how much a man can say in a few words and also of how little he can say in a lot of words.

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