Having wrapped up my ‘The Public Life of Sherlock Holmes’ column at BlackGate.com and deciding to take a break from the entire Holmes world, I’ve immersed myself in Rex Stout’s Nero Wolfe books. It’s my favorite series. And I’ve been writing some scenes featuring Wolfe and/or Archie Goodwin. Eventually I’ll be plotting out and writing a couple of short stories, but for now, I’m just working on emulating Stout’s voice as best I can. I will say, writing Wolfe and Archie is a ton of fun!
I was sitting at the little table in the kitchen of the brownstone on West 35th Street, eating wheat cakes with maple syrup. Fritz stood at the stove, eyeing my progress, gauging when to start another. I had The Times open before me and didn’t mind that the agreeable weather would be continuing for a few more days. Having grown up in Ohio, I had adapted to Fall in New York City with no difficulties at all. “How is he?” Fritz asked, breaking our comfortable silence.
He was referring of course, to our employer, Nero Wolfe: The man who took following a routine to levels never before aspired to by mortal man. But on this particular Tuesday morning, he had awoken to a coughing fit and complained of a sore throat.