Street and sit back and relax. That's all for you. Whatever the driver does, he'll Too Many Clients 7 know what he's doing. Don't keep looking back; that might make it a little harder.' He was smiling. 'It didn't take you long to set the stage, did it?' 'I haven't got long.' I glanced up at the clock on the wall. 'It's nearly five.' I stood up. 'I'll be seeing you, but you won't be seeing me.' 'Wonderful,' he said, leaving the chair. 'Measure your mind's height by the shade it casts. I knew you would be the man for it.' He moved and offered a hand. 'Don't bother to show me out, I know the way.' I went along, as always for some years, ever since the day a visitor left the door unlatched, sneaked back in, and hid behind the couch in the front room, and during the night went through everything in the office he could open. At the door I asked him what the name of the hackie would be, and he told me. Returning, I went on past the door of the office to the kitchen, got a glass from the shelf and a carton of milk from the refrigerator. Fritz, at the center table mincing shallots, gave me a look and spoke. 'That is an insult. I pull your nose. My shad roe aux fines herbes is a dish for a king.' 'Yeah, but I'm not a king.' I poured milk. 'Also I'm leaving soon on an errand and I don't know when I'll be back.' 'Ah? A personal errand.' 'No.' I took a sip. 'I'll not only answer your question, I'll ask it for you. Having noticed that we haven't had a client worth a damn for nearly six weeks, you want to know if we have one now, and I don't blame you. It's possible but not likely. It looks 8 Rex Stout like more peanuts.' I took. a sip. 'You may have to invent a dish for a king made of peanut butter.' 'Not impossible, Archie. The problem would be to crack the oil. Not vinegar; it would take too much. Perhaps lime juice, with or without a drop or two of onion juice. I'll try it tomorrow.' I told him to let me know how he made out, took the milk to the office, got at the phone at my desk, dialed the number of the Gazette, and got Lon Cohen. He said he was too busy to spare time for anything but a front-page lead or an invitation to a poker game. I said I was out of both items at the moment but would put them on back order, and meanwhile I would hold the line while he went to the morgue to see if they had anything on Thomas G. Yeager, executive vice-president of Continental Plastic Products, residing at 340 East 68th Street. He said he knew the name, they probably had a file on him, and he would send for it and call back. In ten minutes he did so. Continental Plastic Products was one of the big ones; its main plant was in Cleveland, and its sales and executive offices were in the Empire State Building. Thomas G. Yeager had been its executive vice-president for five years and was in the saddle. He was married and had a daughter, Anne, unmarried, and a son, Thomas G. Junior, married. He was a member of ... I told Lon that was all I needed, thanked him, hung up, and buzzed the plant rooms on the house phone. After a wait Wolfe's voice came, gruff of course. 'Yes?' 'Sorry to interrupt. A man named Yeager came. He wants to know if he is being tailed and by whom. He expects to be soaked and doesn't mind because Too Many Clients 9 no one but me is good enough. I have checked on him and he can stand it, and I might as well earn a couple of weeks' pay. I'll be gone when you come down. His name and address are in my notebook. I'll be back before bedtime.' 'And tomorrow? How long will it last?' 'It won't. If it does we'll get Saul or Fred. I'll explain later. It's just a chore.' 'Very well.' He hung up, and I took the phone and dialed a number that would get me Al Goller. H J Chapter 2 I FT^^^0 nours later, at twenty minutes past seven, I | I was sitting in a taxi parked on 67th Street JL between Second and Third Avenues, twisted around for a view through the rear window. If Yeager had left his house at 7:00 sharp, he should have been in Al Goller's cab by 7:04, and Al should have turned the corner onto 67th Street by 7:06. But it was 7:20, and no sign of him. It was useless trying to guess what the hitch was, so I did. By 7:30 I had a collection of a dozen guesses, both plain and fancy. At 7:35 I was too annoyed to bother to guess. At 7:40 I told Mike Collins, the hackie, who was no stranger, 'Nuts. I'll take a look,' got out, and walked to the corner. Al was still there in his cab in front of the lunchroom. When the light showed green I crossed the avenue, went on to the cab, and asked Al, ''Where is he?' He yawned. 'All I know is where he isn't.' 'I'll ring him. If he comes while I'm inside, have trouble starting your engine until I come out and go. Give me time to get back to Mike.' He nodded and started another yawn, and I went into the lunchroom, found the phone booth in 12 Rex Stout the rear, and dialed CH5-3232. After four rings I had a male voice in my ear. 'Mrs. Yeager's residence.'
'May I speak with Mr. Yeager?' 'He's not available at the moment. Who is this, please?' I hung up. Not only did I know the voice of Sergeant Purley Stebbins of Homicide West, but also it was I who some years back had informed him that when one answers the phone at the home of the John Does one says not 'Mr. Doe's residence' but 'Mrs. Doe's residence.' So I hung up, departed, signed to Al Goller to stay put, walked to the corner of 68th Street and turned right, and proceeded far enough to see that the dick behind the wheel of the PD car double- parked in front of Number 340 was the one who usually drove Stebbins. Whirling, I went back the way I had come, to the lunchroom and the phone booth, dialed the number of the Gazette, asked for Lon Cohen, and got him. My intention was to ask him if he had heard of any interesting murders recently, but I didn't get to. His voice came. 'Archie?' 'Right. Have you--' 'How the hell did you know Thomas G. Yeager was going to be murdered when you called me three hours ago?' 'I didn't. I don't. I merely--' 'Balls. But I appreciate it. Thanks for a pageone box. NERO WOLFE SCOOPS THE COPS AGAIN. I'm writing it now: 'Nero Wolfe, private eye extraordinary, was plunging into the Yeager murder case more than two hours before the body was discovered in an excavation on West Eighty- second Too Many Clients 13 Street. At five-five p.m. his lackey, Archie Goodwin, phoned the Gazette office to get--'' 'You'll eat it. The whole world knows I'm not a lackey, I'm a flunky, and the idea of Nero Wolfe plunging. Besides, this is the first time I've phoned you for a month. If someone called and imitated my voice it was probably the murderer, and if you had been smart enough to keep him on while you had the call traced you might have--' 'Okay. Start over. When can you give me something?'
'When I have something to give. I always do, don't I? Pretend I didn't know Yeager had been murdered until you told me. Where is the excavation on West Eighty-second Street?' 'Between Columbus and Amsterdam.' 'When was the body found?' 'Ten after seven. Fifty minutes ago. Under a tarp at the bottom of a hole dug by Con Edison. Boys climbed in to retrieve a ball that had rolled in.' I took a second. 'The body must have rolled in since five o'clock; that's when Con Ed men usually quit if it's not an emergency. Didn't anyone see it roll in and pull the tarp over it?' 'How do I know? We got it only half an hour ago.' 'How sure is the identification?' 'Positive. One of the men we sent knew him. He phoned just five minutes ago.' 'How do you know he was murdered?' 'That's not official yet, but there's a hole in the side of his head that he didn't make with his finger. Look, Archie. His file from the morgue was here on my desk when the flash came. Within an hour 14 Rex Stout everybody here will know that I sent for it two hours in advance. I don't mind being mysterious, but it could be a nuisance if this gets big. So I mention that I sent for the file because of a call from you, and someone who likes to do favors mentions it to someone at Homicide, and then?' 'Then I cooperate with the cops as usual. I'll be there in twenty minutes.' 'Fine. It'll be a pleasure to see you.' I went out to the sidewalk, got into Al's cab, and told him to roll around the corner to Mike. As he pulled away from the curb he said his instructions were to accept only a passenger who told him he needed a shave, and I told him all right, he needed a shave. There was no space at the curb on 67th Street near Mike, so we stopped alongside, and I got out and stood between the two cabs, at the open front windows. 'The party's off,' I told them. 'Circumstances beyond my control. I mentioned no figure to you because of unknown factors, such as how long it would take, but since you have only had to sit around a while, maybe twenty apiece would be enough. What do you think?' Mike said, 'Yeah,' and Al said, 'Sure. What happened?' I got out my wallet and took out six twenties. 'So we'll make it three times that,' I said, 'because you are not dumb. I haven't told you the name of the client, but I described him, and you know he was coming from around the corner on Sixty-eighth Street, and he was going to West Eighty-second Street. So when you read in the paper tomorrow about a man named Thomas G. Yeager who lived at Three-forty East Sixty-eighth Street, that his body Too Many Clients 15 was found at seven-ten this evening in a hole on West Eighty-second Street, with a hole in his head, you will wonder. When a man wonders about something, he likes to talk about it. So here's sixty bucks apiece. What I want is a chance to satisfy my curiosity without being bothered by cops wanting to know why I arranged this setup. Why the hell did he go on his own instead of sticking to our program? I will add that he didn't say or hint that he expected or feared any violence; he only wanted to find out if he was being tailed, and if so he wanted the tail pulled off and identified if possible. That's what I told you and that's how it was. I haven't the faintest idea who killed him or why. You know all I know. I would just as soon have nobody else know it until I look around a little. You guys have known me-- how long?' 'Five years,' Mike said. 'Eight years,' Al said. 'How did you find out he got it? If his body was found only an hour ago--' 'When I rang his house I recognized the voice that answered, a Homicide sergeant, Purley Stebbins. When I went around the corner I recognized the driver of a PD car parked in front of Number Three-forty. When I phoned a newspaperman I know and asked for news I got it. I am saving nothing; you have it all. Here's your sixty bucks.' Al reached to get a corner of one twenty with a finger and a thumb and slipped it out. 'This'll do,' he said. 'This is enough for my time, and keeping my lip buttoned is just personal. I'll enjoy it. Every
