calling and my probity. I can't exclude any possibility, even that you killed Yeager yourself.' Aiken smiled, again not with amusement. 'I can.' 'Naturally.' Wolfe turned. 'Archie, the typewriter. Two carbons.' I whirled my chair, pulled the machine around, arranged the paper with carbons, and inserted them. 'Yes, sir.' 'Single-spaced, wide margins. The date. On behalf of my corporation, Continental Plastic Products, I hereby engage Nero Wolfe to investigate the circumstances of the death of Thomas G. Yeager. It is understood that Wolfe will make every effort to protect the reputation and interests of the corporation, comma, and will disclose no facts or information that will harm the corporation's repute or prestige, comma, unless he is compelled to do so by 86 Rex Stout his legal obligation as a citizen and a licensed private detective, semicolon; and if he fails to observe this provision he is to receive no pay for his services or reimbursement for his expenses. The purpose of this engagement of Nero Wolfe is to prevent, comma, as far as possible, comma, any damage to the corporation as a result of the special circumstances of Yeager's death. Below a space for signature put 'President, Continental Plastic Products.''
I had typed it as he spoke. After taking it out and running over it, I handed the original to Aiken and the carbons to Wolfe. Aiken read it twice and looked up. 'Your fee isn't specified.' 'No, sir. It can't be. It will depend on what and how much I do.' 'Who decides if you have faithfully observed the provision?' 'Reason and good faith, applied jointly. If that failed, it would be decided by a court, but that contingency is remote.' Aiken glanced over it again, put it on the stand at his elbow, took a pen from his pocket, and signed it. I took it and gave it to Wolfe and handed one of the carbons to Aiken. He folded it and stuck it in his pocket, and spoke. 'How and when did you learn about that room?' Wolfe shook his head. 'I don't start a difficult job by babbling, even to you.' He glanced at the wall clock, pushed his chair back, and arose. 'It's past midnight. I'll report to you, of course, but when and what is solely in my discretion.' 'That's absurd. You're working for me.' 'Yes, sir. But the only test of my performance is its result. It may be that the less you know of its Too Many Clients 87 particulars the better.' He picked up the signed original. 'Do you want this back?' 'No. I want to know how you're going to proceed.'
'I don't know myself.' 'You know this. Did one of my directors tell you about that room?' 'No.' 'Did Mrs. Yeager tell you?' 'No.' 'Then who did?' Wolfe glared at him. 'Confound it, sir, shall I drop this thing in the wastebasket? Do you want this job done or not?' 'It's not what I want, it's what I'm stuck with. You have the handle.' He got up. 'Come, Miss McGee.' FR1;Chapter 8 At half past ten Wednesday morning I stood by the big globe in the office, twirling it, trying to find a good spot to spend my vacation in the fall. Having spent a couple of hours trying to decide what I would tell me to do if I were Wolfe, and coming to the conclusion that the most sensible would be to go out and sweep the sidewalk, it had seemed advisable to put my mind on something else for a while. When Wolfe has instructions for me in the morning he sends word by Fritz that I am to come up to his room. That morning there had been no word, and at a quarter to nine I had buzzed him on the house phone. Getting nothing but a prolonged growl, I had started to make a list of the things he might have put on my program for the day and came up with that one item: sweeping the sidewalk. I had done fine, no question about that. I had set out at nine o'clock Tuesday morning to dig up a client, and by midnight, in only fifteen hours, we had a beaut, not only the president of a big corporation but the corporation itself. To collect a five90 Rex Stout figure fee all we had to do was earn it. So first we ... We what? Our big advantage was that we knew Yeager had been killed in that room, and probably no one else knew it but the Perez family and the murderer. We also knew that Yeager had expected female company Sunday evening, since he had ordered caviar and pheasant for midnight delivery. But granting that she had come, it didn't have to be that she had killed him; she might have found him dead on arrival. Taking it from that angle, the way to start would be to get a complete list of the women who had keys. That might be done in a year or so, and the next step would be to find out which one had-- Nuts. Of the three angles to a murder problem-- means, opportunity, and motive--you pick the one that seems most likely to open a crack. I crossed off opportunity. Everyone who had keys had opportunity. Then means--namely, a gun capable of sending a bullet through a skull. It had not been found, so the way to go about it was to get a complete list of the people who had keys and also had access to a gun, and then-- I crossed off means. Then motive. Having no personal experience of the methods and procedures in a bower of carnality, I wasn't qualified as an expert, but surely they might have aroused strong feelings in any or all of Yeager's guests. Say there had been ten different guests in the last couple of years. Allow them three apiece of husbands, brothers, fathers, and what Wolfe called paramours, and that made forty likely prospects with first-rate motives. I crossed off motive. With means, opportunity, and motive hopeless, all you can do is go fishing. Catch somebody in a lie. Too Many Clients 91 Find two pieces that are supposed to fit but don't. Find someone who saw or heard something--for example, someone in that house or that block who had noticed people entering or leaving the basement entrance of Number 156 who didn't appear to belong to the neighborhood. That program might get results if you had four or five good operatives and didn't care how long it took. But since Homicide might uncover a lead to that house any minute, and if they did they would find Fred Durkin there, and the fur would fly, and we would no longer have a client because what he wanted to buy couldn't be had, it wouldn't do. We needed either a genius or a lucky break. Of course we had a genius, Nero Wolfe, but apparently he hadn't turned his switch on. When he came down from the plant rooms at eleven o'clock he put the day's orchid selection, Calanthe veitchi sandhurstiana, in the vase on his desk, circled to his chair and sat, glanced at his desk calendar, and looked through the morning crop of mail, which was mostly circulars and requests for contributions. He looked at me. 'What's this note on my calendar? Fourteen million, six hundred eighty-two thousand, two hundred thirty-five dollars and fifty-seven cents.' 'Yes, sir. I got it from the bank. That's the cash reserve of Continental Plastic Products as shown on their statement dated January thirty-first. I thought you might like to know, and I had nothing else to do. I like to be busy at something.' 'Pfui.' 'Yes, sir. I agree.' 'Have you considered the situation?' 'I have. It's a hell of a note. Yesterday, tempo92 Rex Stout rarily, we had too many clients. Two. Today we have one, and it's still too many because we can't possibly fill his order. If you're going to ask me for suggestions, don't bother. The only contribution I can make is worthless.' 'What is it?' 'Julia McGee is a liar. You've heard that room described, but you haven't seen it. The man that fixed that room up, namely Yeager, did not have his secretary come there to take dictation. Any odds ' you want. Not even if she was a lump--he might have wanted to try an experiment--and she isn't. She has some very good points and possibilities, speaking as a satyr. So she lies, but that gets us nowhere. However she spent her evenings with him there, she could have done what she did do, squeal on him, either because the pictures bored her or because she wanted to get solid with the president. As far as the murder is concerned, it's a point in her favor. Having squealed on him, why should she shoot him? Do you want to ask her?' 'No.' He took in air, all his barrel would hold, and let it out again. 'I was a witling to take the job. All we can do is flounder around in the slush. As evidence of our extremity, it may be that we should find the man who got us into this pickle, despite our conclusion that he didn't know Yeager was dead. How long would it take you?' 'Something between a day and a year.' He made a face. 'Or we could try a coup. We confront Mr. and Mrs. Perez with our conviction that they killed Yeager because he had defiled their daughter. We tell them that if the police learn of the room and Yeager's use of it they are probably doomed, as they are. Certainly they can't hope to Too Many Clients 93 stay there indefinitely. We offer them a large sum, twenty thousand, fifty thousand--no matter, it will come from that cash reserve--to go to some far corner of the earth, provided they will sign a confession that they killed Yeager because their daughter told them that he had made improper advances to her. They need not admit that the advances were successful; it can even be implied that they were never made, that their daughter had invented them. The confession will be left with us, and we'll get it to the police anonymously after they are safely out of reach. It will not mention that room. Of course the police will find it, but there will be nothing in it to connect it with Yeager. They will assume that it was his, but they can't establish it, and they do not publish assumptions that besmirch a prominent citizen.' 'Wonderful,' I said with enthusiasm. 'It only has two minor flaws. First, since Yeager owned the house, it will be an item in his estate. Second, they didn't kill him. But what the hell, hanging a murder on--' 'That's your opinion.' 'With damn good legs under it. 111 concede that you're being gallant, making Maria an inventor instead of a floozy, but it would be even better--' I was interrupted by the doorbell. Going to the hall, I saw on the stoop what I have in mind, more or less, when I apply the word 'lump' to a female. Not a hag, not a fright, just a woman, this one middle-aged or more, who would have to be completely retooled and reassembled before she could be used for show purposes. With her you would have some spare parts left when you finished, for instance the extra chin. Her well-made dark suit 94 Rex Stout and her platinum mink stole were no real help. I went and opened the door and told her good morning.
'Nero Wolfe?' she asked. I nodded. 'His house.' 'I want to see him. I'm Ellen Yeager. Mrs. Thomas G. Yeager.'
