have brought it up again. It's futile. If you had a reason for killing him, I won't learn it from you. I doubt if I'll learn anything from you. You say you went there, found him dead, and left.' He leaned back, closed his eyes, and pushed his lips out. In a moment he pulled them in. Out again, in again. Out and in, out and in. Aiken spoke. 'I have things to ask Miss McGee myself, but they can wait. You have only made it worse, bringing it out that he was killed in that room. I don't think she killed him, and I don't think you do. What are you going to do now?' No reply. Wolfe was still working his lips. 'He didn't hear you,' I told Aiken. 'When he's doing Too Many Clients 153 that he doesn't hear anything or anybody. We're not here.' Aiken stared at him. He transferred the stare to Miss McGee. She didn't meet it. Wolfe opened his eyes and straightened up. 'Miss McGee. Give me the keys. To the door of that house and the elevator.' 'Did you hear what I said?' Aiken demanded. 'No. The keys, Miss McGee.' 'I said you've made it worse!' Aiken hit the chair arm with a fist. 'Yeager dead in that room! She didn't kill him, she had no reason to, but what if she did? Do you call this protecting the interests of my corporation?' Wolfe ignored him. 'The keys, Miss McGee. You have no further use for them, and you're hardly in a position to balk. You have them?' She opened her bag, the one I had opened Tuesday evening while she was on the floor wrapped in the coverlet, and took out the key fold. I went and got it, looked at the two keys, and handed it to Wolfe. He put it in a drawer, turned to Aiken, and inquired, 'How the deuce did you get to head a large and successful corporation?' The president goggled at him, speechless. Wolfe went on. 'You spout and sputter. You say I have made it worse. In your business, do you blame subordinates when they expose problems not of their making which must be solved if the business is to prosper? If I hadn't resorted to humbug we wouldn't know that Yeager was killed in that room, whether by Miss McGee or another, and I might have blundered fatally. I pried it out of her by a ruse. I had cause to suspect she was there Sunday evening, but nothing that could be used as a lever 154 Rex Stout on her, so I fabricated one. I had no client Sunday evening; Mr. Durkin was not posted at that house; he wasn't there to see her enter. But now that I know she did enter, and that Yeager was killed there--' 'You tricky bastard!' Aiken was on his feet. 'Where's that paper I signed? I want it!' 'Nonsense.' Wolfe didn't bother to tilt his head to look up at him. Conservation of energy. 'Sit down. You hired me, but you can't fire me. I was already on slippery ground, withholding information; now that I know Yeager was killed in that room and his body was seen there I am not merely vulnerable, I am gravely compromised. You are in no personal jeopardy, but I am. If I had my share of prudence I would be at my telephone now, speaking to Mr. Cramer of the police. What are you risking? The repute of your confounded corporation. Pfui. Sit down and tell me where you were last evening from nine o'clock to midnight.' Aiken stood, glaring. His jaw was working, and a cord at the side of his neck was twitching. 'It's none of your damned business where I was last evening,' he said through his teeth. 'I warn you, Wolfe, you're playing a dangerous game. You lie when you say Durkin wasn't at that house Sunday. How else did you know Miss McGee was there? You never have told me how you found out about that room. And you had keys. Did Durkin go up after Miss McGee left and find Yeager's body and take it out and dump it in that hole? I think he did. And now you're blackmailing me and my corporation, that's what it amounts to. All right, you had the handle Tuesday evening and you still have it, but I warn you.' Too Many Clients 155 'Thank you,' Wolfe said politely. His head turned. 'Miss McGee, where were you last evening from nine o'clock to midnight?' 'Don't answer him,' Aiken commanded her. 'Don't answer anything. We're going. You can answer me, but not here. Come on.' She looked at him, at Wolfe, and back at him. 'But Mr. Aiken, I have to! I have to answer that. I told you, I thought that was what he wanted to see me about--that girl, Maria Perez.' She didn't pronounce either 'Maria' or 'Perez' the way they did. 'That's why he wants to know where I was last evening.' She turned to Wolfe. 'I never saw that girl. I never heard of her until I read the paper today. I didn't kill Mr. Yeager and I didn't kill her. I don't know anything about her. Last evening I had dinner with friends and I was there all evening, with them and other people, until after midnight. Their name is Quinn and they live at Ninety-eight West Eleventh Street. I had to tell him that, Mr. Aiken. It's bad enough for me without--I had to.' He was focused on Wolfe. 'What about the girl?' he demanded. Wolfe shook his head. 'Since I lie, why bother to ask?' That was the note it ended on. Plenty of times clients have left that office boiling or sore or sulky, but I have never seen one quite as peevish as Aiken. Not, I must admit, without reason. As he said, Wolfe had the handle, and a president is used to having the handle himself. Leaving with Julia McGee, he forgot his manners, leading the way out of the office and down the hall to the door, and when I reached to get his homburg from the rack he snatched it from my hand. Miss McGee was in for a down off the limb we were out on; and while I fully appreciated the talents and abilities of those three men, I couldn't guess how they were going to be used to find an answer to that. So I wanted to hear that briefing, but as I went to my chair and whirled it around Wolfe spoke. 'We won't need you, Archie. You have your instructions.' I sat. 'Maybe I can supply details.' 'No. You had better get started.' I got up and went. There were several pointed remarks I could have made, for instance that I had a right to know what the chances were that I would sleep in my bed that night, but it might not fit his script, granting that he had one, for Saul and Fred and Orrie to know how bad it was. So I went, spry and jaunty until I was in the hall out of sight. I had a date with an actress, made on the phone, but not for a specified minute--any time between three and four. It was five after three when I entered the lobby of the Balfour on Madison Avenue in the Sixties, gave the hallman my name, and said Miss Meg Duncan was expecting me. He gave me a knowing look and inquired, 'How's the fat man?' I said, 'Turn around. I'm not much good at faces, but I remember backs.' He said, 'You wouldn't remember mine. I used to hop at the Churchill. Has Miss Duncan lost something?' 'Questions answered while I wait,' I told him. 'Mr. Wolfe is just fine, thanks. Miss Duncan can't find her solid gold knuckle- duster and thinks you took it.' He grinned. 'It's a treat to meet you. You can pick it up on your way out. Twelfth floor. Twelve D.' I went and entered the elevator and was lifted. pounds oo Many Clients 159 Twelve D was at the end of the hall. I pushed the button, and in half a minute the door opened a crack and a voice asked who it was. I pronounced my name, the door swung wide, and a square-jawed female sergeant gave me an unfriendly look. 'Miss Duncan has a bad headache,' she said in a voice that went with a jaw and the look. 'Can't you tell me what--' 'Mike!' A voice from inside somewhere. 'Is that Mr. Goodwin?' 'Yes! He says it is!' 'Then send him in here!' A man is bound to feel a little uneasy if he has an appointment to call on a young woman in the middle of the afternoon and is ushered into a room dimmed by Venetian blinds, and she is in bed and clad accordingly, especially if as soon as the door is closed behind you she says, 'I haven't got a headache, sit here,' and pats the edge of the bed. Even if you are certain that you can keep control of the situation--but that's the trouble; you can't help feeling that keeping control of the situation is not what your fellow men have a right to expect of you, let alone her fellow women. There was a chair turned to face the bed, and I took it. As I sat she asked if I had brought her cigarette case. 'No,' I said, 'but it's still there in the safe, and that's something. Mr. Wolfe sent me to ask you a question. Where were you yesterday evening from nine o'clock to midnight?' If she had been on her feet, or even on a chair, I believe she would have jumped me again, from the way her eyes flashed. It was personal, not professional. 'I wish I had clawed your eyes out,' she said. 160 Rex Stout 'I know, you said that before. But I didn't come to fire that question at you just to hear you say it again. If you have seen a newspaper you may have noticed that a girl named Maria Perez was murdered last night?' 'Yes.' 'And that she lived at One-fifty-six West Eighty-second Street?' 'Yes.' 'So where were you?' 'You know where I was. At the theater. Working.'
'Until ten minutes to eleven. Then you changed. Then?' She was smiling. 'I don't know why I said that about clawing your eyes out. I mean I do know. Holding me so tight my ribs hurt, and then just a cold fish. Just a--a stone.' 'Not a fish and a stone. In fact, neither. Just a detective on an errand. I still am. Where did you go when you left the theater?' 'I came down and went to bed. Here.' She patted the bed. The way she used her hands had been highly praised by Brooks Atkinson in the Times. 'I usually go somewhere and eat something, but last night I was too tired.' 'Had you ever seen Maria Perez? Ever run into her in that basement hall?' 'No.' 'I beg your pardon; I doubled up the questions. Had you ever seen her or spoken with her?' 'No.' I nodded. 'You would say that, naturally, if you thought you could make it stick. But you may have to eat it. This is how it stands. The police haven't Too Many Clients 161 got onto that room yet. They still haven't connected Yeager with that house. Mr. Wolfe hopes they won't, for reasons that don't matter to you. He believes that whoever killed Yeager killed Maria Perez, and so do I. He wants to find the murderer and clear it up in such a way that that house doesn't come into it. If he can do that you'll never have to go on the witness stand and identify your cigarette case. But he can do that only if he gets the facts, and gets them quick.' I left the chair and went and sat on the bed where she had patted it. 'For example, you. I don't mean facts like where were you Sunday night. We haven't the time or the men to start checking alibis. I asked you about last night just to start the conversation. Your alibi for last night is no good, but it wouldn't have been even if you had said you went to Sardi's with friends and ate a steak. Friends can lie, and so can waiters.' 'I was at a benefit performance at the Majestic Theater Sunday night.' 'It would take a lot of proving to satisfy me that you were there without a break if I had a healthy reason to think you killed Yeager--
