The Investigators Part 34

"Keep in touch," Wohl said. "Have a nice dinner."

He hung up.

Matt found the Reynolds house, following Mrs. Reynolds's instructions, with little trouble. She had neglected to tell him it wasn't visible from the street, and it took him two trips down Schuler Avenue before his headlights picked up a sign by a driveway reading "Reynolds."

The house, when he'd driven several hundred yards up a macadam drive through a wooded area to it, was a large brick colonial with a house-wide verandah. It looked, however, Matt thought, more like the house of an a.s.sistant vice president of Nesfoods International than a house one would expect the chairman of the board, president, and chief executive officer of a Fortune 500 company to own.

As he stopped the Plymouth, two large bra.s.s fixtures on either side of the double front door went on, and just as he got close to the door, it was opened.

"Good evening, sir," the butler-a middle-aged man wearing a gray cotton jacket-greeted him.

"Good evening," Matt replied. "My name is Payne."

"Yes, sir, you're expected," the butler said. "This way, please, sir."

The house was larger inside than it had appeared from the outside. The entrance foyer was large, and stairways on either side of it rose to a second-floor balcony.

The butler led him to a set of double doors under the balcony and opened one of them.

"Mr. Payne, sir," he announced, and waved Matt inside.

Inside looked like a combination living room and library. Three of the walls held ceiling-high bookcases. The fourth was a wall of sliding gla.s.s doors opening onto a patio. Beyond the patio was a lawn stretching down to what Matt supposed was the Susquehanna River.

A stocky, blond-haired man in his fifties, in a well-tailored double-breasted nearly black suit, rose from what looked like his his chair and advanced on Matt with his hand extended. chair and advanced on Matt with his hand extended.

"Matt Payne, I presume?"

"Yes, sir."

"Did you see the movie?"

"Sir?"

" 'Guess Who's Coming to Dinner'?"

"Let me clear the air," Matt said. "All I want is a free meal."

Thomas Reynolds laughed.

"Is taking a little nip among your vices?"

"Among my lesser vices, yes, sir."

"I was about to make myself another," Reynolds said, taking Matt's arm and leading him to a sideboard laid out with bottles and c.o.c.ktail-hour impedimenta. "What's your pleasure?"

"A little of that Famous Grouse would go down nicely, thank you."

"The same family's been making that stuff for six generations. Did you know that?"

"No, sir."

"I've been drinking it since college," Reynolds said as he poured.

"So has my father," Matt said. "That's why I drink it, I suppose."

Reynolds handed Matt a gla.s.s.

"There's ice and water and soda," he said.

"A little water, please," Matt said.

When that was done, Reynolds tapped his gla.s.s against Matt's.

"Welcome," he said.

"Thank you."

"I admire your courage."

"Excuse me?"

"Didn't Susie tell you her mother is furious?"

"Oh. Well, my conscience is clear. I wasn't the one supposed to call home."

"And here she is!" Reynolds cried.

Mrs. Thomas Reynolds, who looked, in her simple black dress and single strand of pearls, as if she had been cast from the same mold as Mrs. Soames T. Browne, Daffy's mother, came into the room from a side door.

"Here he is, Grace," Reynolds said. "His horns are apparently retracted, so be nice to him."

"You're a wicked young man," Grace Reynolds said.

"My mother doesn't think so," Matt said.

"And a smarty-pants to boot!"

"Grace, leave him alone!" Thomas Reynolds ordered.

"I'm only kidding, and he knows it."

"Yes, ma'am."

"But whatever were you thinking about, keeping her out until all hours?"

"Well, we got pretty tied up in conversation," Matt said. "I don't often meet girls with such an intimate knowledge of hog belly futures. Time just flew!"

"Susan doesn't know-" she began to protest, in confusion.

Reynolds laughed again, interrupting her. "He's telling you, politely, to mind your own business, Grace. You may finally have met your match."

"This is an occasion," Grace Reynolds said, cheerfully changing the subject. "I think I'll have a martini."

Reynolds turned to make her one.

"Susan'll be down in just a minute or two, Matt-you don't mind if I call you by your Christian name, do you?"

"No, ma'am."

"Susan's having her shower," Mrs. Reynolds went on.

A quite clear image of Susan in her shower popped up in Matt's brain.

Cool it. For one thing, she is not at all interested, and Wohl was right. It would be really stupid.

"That's nice," Matt said.

"I called her at work. I'm not supposed to do that, unless it's important, but after I asked you to join us, I didn't want her running off to the movies with a girlfriend, or anything."

"And she was no doubt thrilled to hear I was coming?"

"Actually, it was more surprise than anything else, to tell you the truth," she said.

Her husband handed her a martini, and then, suddenly, a warm smile appeared on his face.

"Princess!" he said.

Matt turned and saw Susan coming toward them. She was dressed like her mother, Matt thought, and then amended the thought: simple black dresses and single strands of pearls were very nearly a uniform for females of her age and social position.

Susan smiled-it looked genuine-and gave him her hand.

"A pleasant surprise, Matt," she said.

"Ten thousand hors.e.m.e.n," Matt said, very seriously, "and all the king's men could not have kept me away."

"Jesus Christ!" Susan said, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Susie!" her mother said, in shock.

"If you're going to blaspheme like that, Susie, we'll just have to call the whole thing off," Matt said piously.

Susan's father laughed, and her mother looked confused.

"I should have warned you, Daddy, he's an idiot."

"So far, I like him."

"Daddy, could I have a scotch?" Susan said.

"Well, as Mommy said, this is an occasion," he said. "Why not?"

"Give her a weak one," Matt ordered, "And only one. Two drinks and she'll want to stay up until the sun comes up."> "Is that what really happened?" Mrs. Reynolds asked. "Susie had too much to drink?"

"I did not," Susan protested automatically.

"How much?" Mommy demanded to know.

"Not much, really," Matt said, "I mean, after the mar tinis-and, of course, the champagne-at Daffy's, all you had was a couple of tequila surprises in the Mexican place, and then no more than three, well, maybe four, beers in the Dixieland place."

"What's a 'tequila surprise'?" Mrs. Reynolds asked.

"They call them that because after the second tequila surprise, nothing surprises you," Matt said seriously.

"Mommy," Susan protested. "He's pulling your leg."

If I called Mother "Mommy," she'd throw up.

"I didn't believe him for a second," Mrs. Reynolds said.

"Are you a golfer, Matt?" Mr. Reynolds asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Did you bring your clubs?"

"No, sir."

"What I was thinking was that I could call the club, and get you a guest members.h.i.+p while you're here."

"That would be very kind of you, sir."

"How long will you be here?"

"That'll depend on how long it takes me to get what I'm after. A week, or ten days, anyway."

"Then I'll call the club and set you up," Reynolds said.

A middle-aged woman in a black dress with a white maid's ap.r.o.n appeared in the door.

"Anytime you're ready, Mrs. Reynolds," she announced.

"Thank you, Harriet," Mr. Reynolds said. "We'll be right in."

The dining room was so small that Matt decided there must be another, larger one, and that they were dining en famille. en famille. Confirmation of that came immediately when Mr. Reynolds asked him if "he would like to watch a master of the broiler at work." Confirmation of that came immediately when Mr. Reynolds asked him if "he would like to watch a master of the broiler at work."