“I’ll show you the phone.” It was a voice behind me, and I turned. The girl in yellow slacks was there close. I realized with surprise that her head came clear to my chin or above, and she was blonde but not at all faded, and her dark blue eyes were not quite open, and one corner of her lips was up with her smile.
“Come on, Escamillo,” she said, “I’ll show you the phone.”
I told her, “Much obliged,” and started off with her.
She brushed against me as we walked and said, “I’m Lily Rowan.”
“Nice name.” I grinned down at. her. “I’m Escamillo Goodwin.”
According to Some Buried Caesar, 87 years ago today, Archie Goodwin—one of my top 5 All-Time Favorite Characters—met the only woman who could keep his attention for more than a few months, Lily Rowan. Lily shows up several times in the Nero Wolfe/Archie Goodwin series and threatens to steal every scene she appears in (and frequently succeeds). Check out this post from Today in Mystery Fiction for the details—one of my favorite scenes, from one of my favorite books in possibly my favorite series—(I think I have 3 or 4 copies of it), so I had to say something.
Besides, it’s not like I have a long list of dates associated with fictional events to commemorate (but I really should work on one).
How they met 87 years ago, when Archie’s only in his mid-30s today, is beyond me. But Math was never my strong suit, I’m sure it makes sense, Charlie Epps could probably explain it to me.
Regardless, it’s a great exchange—the first of many between the two. Lily will go on to have great scenes with Mr. Wolfe, as well–one of the more memorable happens at a crucial point in In the Best Families where she does something that no one else does in the Wolfe/Archie books.
Why does she call him Escamillo? (a nickname she never drops, I should add). Well, a couple of pages before that exchange of names, Wolfe and Archie were crossing a field between the road (and their disabled car) and a nearby house, and well…
“Stop! Don’t move!”
I stopped dead, with [Wolfe] beside me. I thought he had discovered something psychological about the bird on the fence, but he said without looking at me, “Stand perfectly still. Move your head slowly, very slowly, to the right.”
For an instant I thought the nut with the gun had something contagious and Wolfe had caught it, but I did as I was told, and there was the second surprise. Off maybe 200 feet to the right, walking slowly toward us with his head up, was a bull bigger than I had supposed bulls came. He was dark red with white patches, with a big white triangle on his face, and he was walking easy and slow, wiggling his head a little as if he was nervous, or as if he was trying to shake a fly off of his horns. Of a sudden he stopped and stood, looking at us with his neck curved.
I heard Wolfe’s voice, not loud, at the back of my head, “It would be better if that fool would quit yelling. Do you know the technique of bulls? Did you ever see a bull fight?”
I moved my lips enough to get it out: “No, sir.”
Wolfe grunted. “Stand still. You moved your finger then, and his neck muscles tightened. How fast can you run?”
“I can beat that bull to that fence. Don’t think I can’t. But you can’t.”
“I know very well I can’t. Twenty years ago I was an athlete. This almost convinces me . .. but that can wait. Ah, he’s pawing. His head’s down. If he should start… it’s that confounded yelling. Now… back off slowly, away from me. Keep facing him. When you are 10 feet from me, swerve toward the fence. He will begin to move when you do. As long as he follows slowly, keep backing and facing him. When he starts his rush, turn and run—”
I never got a chance to follow directions. I didn’t move, and I’m sure Wolfe didn’t, so it must have been our friend on the fence—maybe he jumped off into the pasture. Anyhow, the bull curved his neck and started on the jump; and if it was the other guy he was headed for, that didn’t help any, because we were in line with him and we came first. He started the way an avalanche ends. Possibly if we had stood still he would have passed by, about 3 feet to my right, but either it was asking too much of human nature to expect me to stand there, or I’m not human. I have since maintained that it flashed through my mind that if I moved it would attract him to me and away from Nero Wolfe, but there’s no use continuing that argument here. There’s no question but what I moved, without any preliminary backing, And there’s no question, whoever he started for originally, about his being attracted by my movement, I could hear him behind me. I could damn near feel him, Also I was dimly aware of shouts and a blotch of something red above the fence near the spot I was aimed at, There it was—the fence. I didn’t do any braking for it, but took it at full speed, doing a vault with my hands reaching for its top, and one of my hands missed and I tumbled, landing flat on the other side, sprawling and rolling, I sat up and panted and heard a voice above me:
“Beautiful! I wouldn’t have missed that for anything.”
I looked up and saw two girls, one in a white dress and red jacket, the other in a yellow shirt and slacks. I snarled at them, “Shall I do it again?”
