Part Three: House Sticks His Nose In

Despite low expectations on my part, dinner that evening was very successful. Dr. Vollmer was there--I had completely forgotten about Wolfe's invitation, but fortunately Fritz hadn't. Vollmer was most intrigued to meet Dr. House, and when he heard who Dr. Wilson was, a connection was found. They'd never met, but it turned out Vollmer had once referred a patient to Wilson. An old Manhattan family who'd been patients of his for years had a daughter with leukemia; she'd won a place at Princeton and been desperate to go. Vollmer had referred her to Princeton Plainsboro for her continuing treatment. Wilson immediately recognized her name and was able to discuss the case. Apparently she was doing well.

Wilson also proved to be a bit of a gourmet--his palate was good enough to spot chervil in the sauce, very subtle, and he asked Fritz about it. Fritz lit up like a sunbeam, and he and Wilson and Wolfe discussed the pros and cons of onions for the next five minutes. Fritz and Wolfe never had been able to agree about onions in the shad roe casserole; Fritz had left them out as a concession to Wolfe, but reluctantly. Wilson could see both sides, though opined that the casserole was excellent as it was, which pleased both Fritz and Wolfe.

But it was the conversation between House and Wolfe that really stole the show. House was a peculiar mix of cultured and uncouth; he would show an unexpected knowledge of art on the one hand and complete ignorance of literature with another. A pattern started to emerge, where Wolfe would introduce a topic to see what reaction he would get; House would deliberately take a position on the opposite end of the spectrum to wherever he perceived Wolfe would be; they would argue for a moment, and move on. There was a great moment when Wolfe flabbergasted House with one of his favorite controversial opinions, which never failed to get a rise out of Saul Panzer; "All music is a vestige of barbarism." House was on one side of a divide so big on this one he couldn't even make out Wolfe's position on the other side. It could've been a fight to the death. But they weren't interested in that; they were interested in sparring, taking hooks and jabs at each other and then circling for another chance.

And then unexpectedly they found a subject they could both wax lyrical on. It transpired that House had been an army brat and lived all over the world when he was younger. His father, a Marine, had been stationed for a couple of years in Eastern Europe, and Wolfe and House fell into an in-depth conversation about childhoods in Montenegro which lasted all through the walnut pudding.

"So have you gone back to Montenegro, since you came to the USA?" House eventually asked.

"Once." Wolfe explained briefly how he had gone back to solve the murder of Marco Vukcic.

This set me on my own train of thought; Marco had been Wolfe's long-standing best friend, one of only five men to call Wolfe by his first name, and Wolfe had gone halfway round the world to avenge his murder. I looked across the table at House and Wilson, and thought about how House had dropped everything to come to New York to help Wilson. Not quite on the same geographical scale, but there was clearly a similar intensity to their friendship. I thought it likely that Wolfe was thinking along the same lines.

There was never any business discussed over dinner, of course. After dinner Dr. Vollmer bade us goodnight, and the rest of us went back into the office, where Fritz served coffee and brandy. House was quick and nabbed the red chair this time. Wolfe settled into his own chair, and announced he would undertake to discover the murderer of Catherine Wilson; I should get Saul and Fred round first thing tomorrow. House and Wilson looked at each other, and seemed relieved. I wondered what had swung it for Wolfe; Wilson knowing his onions, or House on Montenegro? Probably both.

"You may need a New York address for a few more days," Wolfe added to Wilson. "You are welcome to stay here, although you may of course prefer to find somewhere else."

"I would like to stay here, thank you," Wilson said immediately.

"You will presumably need more clothes," Wolfe pointed out. Wilson was still wearing the things I'd loaned him. The bag House had retrieved from the hotel had only contained what Wilson had thought he would need for one night. "Perhaps someone in Princeton could bring you some?"

Wilson looked at House, who scowled.

"What, I have to go back to Jersey to get more stuff for you? Can't you borrow more stuff off Goodwin?"

"No," I said immediately.

"No," said Wilson. "I suppose I could go shopping. Except I'm not supposed to leave the house."

"Oh for God's sake. I'll go back to Princeton tomorrow." House threw his hands up. "I'll go plead your case with Cuddy too, shall I?"

By this time both House and Wilson were looking exhausted; both had had a long day with little sleep the previous night, of course. House left to go back to his hotel; Wilson retired up to the South Room. Wolfe and I stayed up discussing how to proceed with the case.

--

The following morning I arrived in the kitchen for breakfast to find Wilson already up and sitting at the table, and Fritz serving some pancakes which I hadn't seen him serve before.

"Macadamia nut pancakes," Fritz explained. "Dr. Wilson's recipe. They're very good."

Wilson looked apologetic. "It was only a suggestion. I didn't mean Fritz to actually make them this morning."

I bit into one. It was good. And I'm spoiled every day by Fritz's cooking.

"That's fantastic." I looked at Wilson and blew him a kiss, same way I do Fritz when he serves me up a treat. Fritz blushes. Wilson didn't blush, but he grinned back and dipped his eyelids. I recalled House's comment that Wilson was way too pretty for prison.

Saul and Fred arrived, and I left Wilson and Fritz in the kitchen. I explained the plan to them. Saul and I would go and see Catherine Wilson's apartment, mainly to get a better idea of the layout, which was clearly important. Fred would go get information about the police work so far and the party guests, in particular the fiancé Scott Darby, and the two women who had turned up to cause trouble, Tammy Marchant and Sandra Jenner. Once we had contact details we would get these three back to the brownstone so Wolfe could talk to them.

Saul and I showed up at Catherine's apartment, and got into the building easily by grabbing the door as someone left. Catherine's apartment was on the top floor. As we went up the stairs, it was obvious that something was wrong. The police tape had been broken, and a small glass panel by the doorframe had been smashed.

Saul and I looked at each other. I reached inside my jacket for the Marley. Saul stood on one side of the door, his own weapon drawn, and nodded; I grasped the door handle and opened the door quietly. No sound. I walked in cautiously, gun in hand, through a small hallway and into the living area, and froze.

There was a man sitting in a chair in the middle of the room. It was House. He turned his head to look at me, and raised his eyebrows at the sight of the gun. I holstered it in disgust and said, "It's OK," to Saul, who followed me in.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I demanded.

House looked at Saul. "Who's the Yid?"

"Who's the lop?" Saul responded, quick as a flash.

House looked at Saul in astonishment, and then smiled very briefly.

"Saul, meet Dr. Gregory House. Friend of our client and interfering busybody." I was still disgusted. "House, this is Saul Panzer, he works for Wolfe."

"I'm glad to see Wolfe is spending Wilson's money sending two men with guns to break into an empty apartment," House snipped.

I bridled. "You broke in, didn't you? You broke that pane there?"

"So sue me," House retorted.

I was pissed. The asshole had broken into a crime scene. Who knew what he had messed up. I wouldn't have put it past him to start interfering with anything he thought might incriminate Wilson. I'd have to bear that one in mind when looking around.

"You are way over the line here, House, and I should be handing you over to the police right now," I warned House. "They'd lock you up in an instant. Interfering with a crime scene. Breaking their seal. Tampering with evidence. What the hell have you been doing here, anyway? And shouldn't you be on your way back to Princeton?"

"Yes, I'm going," House said sharply. "I wanted to come here first. Watch the great detectives at work. You might want to look in her bathroom cabinet, by the way."

I gave up trying to talk to House, he was clearly only going to drive me nuts even quicker than he already was. And it wasn't like I was getting any help from Saul, who was looking amused. I left House sitting in his chair while Saul and I went through the apartment. It didn't take long, we were getting a feel for the layout, we weren't trying to look for anything specific.

As Wilson had described, the downstairs rooms were set up for entertaining. It was furnished neutrally and tastefully with plenty of space, small side tables, comfy chairs in groups, and a professional looking kitchen with a couple of huge fridges. It was a complete mess, as the partygoers from Saturday night had abandoned their glasses and plates on all available surfaces, and nobody had been in to clear up since.

There was one obvious doorway with a wide staircase leading upstairs to the private apartment. These rooms were much more individual, full of dark woods and heavy fabrics. A hallway ran right through, and off it was the living room where Wilson had watched TV, plus dining room, kitchen, bathroom, bedroom. The kitchen had the outline on the floor where the body had been, and fingerprint powder was everywhere. I had a look in the bathroom cabinet, and I could see what House meant--it was full of family planning stuff. Charts, calendars, thermometers. Some support for Wilson's explanation that she was consulting him about problems having a child.

"There's a back staircase too," House called as Saul and I moved around upstairs. I looked at Saul and rolled my eyes; he smiled gently at me. It was all right for Saul, he'd only just met House, he hadn't had his patience tested yet. We soon found what House meant; the bedroom, at the end of the apartment, had a door with a Yale lock. Behind it was another staircase leading to the downstairs rooms, narrow and carpeted but otherwise bare.

"So someone could have come up this way instead, but they'd have needed a key," I stated the obvious. "Otherwise it would have to be up that main staircase. And the waitress says nobody went up there except Wilson and the two women."

"The fiancé might have a key," Saul said as we made our way downstairs. This looked good, we seemed to be down to a suspect list of three.

There didn't seem to be much more we could do here. As we had acquired House, and he was obviously going to tag along and get in the way, I parked him with Saul, and made sure I was standing out of earshot as I phoned home for instructions. Wolfe was in the plant rooms at this time in the morning.

I explained briefly what had happened. Wolfe snorted, but didn't join me in criticizing House. I suspected Wolfe was still getting a kick out of House pissing me off.

"How's Wilson?" I asked.

"Dr. Wilson is up here with me admiring the orchids," Wolfe said. "He seems most interested and has made some perceptive comments, for someone who knows nothing about horticulture. He's at the odontoglossoms talking to Theodore at the moment."

No sweat. Theodore rarely deigned to have a conversation with anyone except Wolfe. Hell, Theodore barely even spoke to me. I thought I should sick Theodore on House at some point if I could. They could grump each other out.

"I have a new job for you, Archie," Wolfe said unexpectedly. "I want you to go back to New Jersey with Dr. House. Saul and Fred can locate the suspects."

I was so mad I couldn't speak for a moment. When I did, I said, "You're making me House's babysitter?"

"Someone has to be. Your encounter with him this morning makes that clear."

Now it was Wolfe who was pissing me off. "I don't want to go to Jersey. I hate Jersey. You know that. Saul or Fred can go."

"It's Princeton. Princeton is a nice part of New Jersey. Dr. House has to go there, and his chances of surviving the journey will be higher with you doing the driving." And then, knowing he might push me too far on this, Wolfe added, "There are two other reasons."

"Oh?"

"Firstly, in conversation with Dr. Wilson this morning, I discovered there was an email correspondence between himself and Catherine, which Dr. Wilson now thinks refers in passing to each of the two women who interrupted the party. They could be useful evidence. I want you to go to Dr. Wilson's office at the hospital, find those emails and print them out."

"Or I could just forward them," I couldn't help but say. "Emails? We'll need a password or something."

"Dr. Wilson is quite happy for you to access his email. He also says that Dr. House will know his password."

"Right." I could believe this. House was a control freak of the highest order. "What's the second reason?"

Wolfe dropped his voice slightly. "I want you to check that Dr. House really was working at the hospital on Saturday night when the murder occurred."

Somehow I hadn't anticipated this. "Seriously?"

"I have given much thought to the possible innocence or guilt of both Dr. Wilson and Dr. House, yesterday evening and this morning," Wolfe said. "I'm quite sure Dr. Wilson would be capable of murder in certain circumstances; relieving a terminal patient, perhaps, or to defend himself or his friend if cornered. I refuse to believe that he would stab his ex-wife of nineteen years ago in the heart out of jealousy, or for any other reason I can conceive of, and Rowcliff is even more of an idiot than I have hitherto thought, for even dreaming this is the case. However, I do believe that Dr. House would be capable of stabbing the former Mrs. Wilson, if he believed he was helping his friend in some way. I don't think it likely; but I think it would be neglectful for us not to at least check his whereabouts."

I shut my cell and started to look forward to seeing House's face when he realized he was a suspect.

END OF PART THREE