The Father Hunt

If that really shows him to you, you have better sight than I have. It did exclude the Jarretts and Bertram Mc-Cray, but they were already out. I wish I knew if you would really be interested in what we did during the next forty-eight hours. I doubt it, because it was all negative. Wednesday morning Saul and Fred had been put on it too, and also Orrie when he returned from Washington. If we could name and place Carlotta Vaughn's dinner partner for those months of 1944 it was 20 to 1 that we would have Amy's father, which was the job, and we gave it all we had. Detecting can be fun, but it can be a pain not only in the neck but also in the head, the guts, the back, the legs, the feet, and the ass. And often is. It was that time.

So at three o'clock Thursday afternoon Wolfe and I sat in the office with nothing more to say. Saul and Fred and Qrrie were still out pecking at it, but when they called in_ we wouldn't be disappointed because we were expecting nothing. Wolfe had started his second bottle of beer since lunch, which exceeded his quota, and I had just returned from the kitchen with a slug of Irish, which made me a lush trying to drown it. I looked at Wolfe, who had his

eyes closed and Ms jaw clamped, and said, "If you're trying to figure how much you're out, it's three grand plus, not counting me."

He shook his head but didn't open his eyes. "I am making assumptions. I am assuming that Miss Denovo's father murdered her mother; that it is more feasible to find him as a murderer than as a father, since he became a father twenty-two years ago and became a murderer only three months ago; that some recent event supplied the motive for the murder; and that the most likely person to have knowledge of that event is Raymond Thome or someone in his employ who was closely associated with Elinor Denovo." His eyes opened. "I'll start with Mr. Thome."

I put the glass with what was left of the Irish on my desk. "Holy heaven. That's the wildest goose you ever chased."

"Perhaps. Sitting here hour after hour and day after day getting futile reports from you and Saul and Fred and Orrie is affecting my appetite and my palate. This morning I had to read a page twice. Intolerable. Can you have Mr. Thorne here at six o'clock?"

"I can try. Is this just a spasm or do you mean it?"

"I don't have spasms."