Too Many Clients

pushed the bell button. In a moment the door opened, and there facing me was one of the three most beautiful females I have ever seen. I must have gaped or gasped, from the way she smiled, the smile of a queen at a commoner. She spoke. 'You want something?' Her voice was low and soft, without breath. The only thing to say was 'Certainly, I want you,' but I managed to hold it in. She was eighteen, tall and straight, with skin the color of the wild thyme honey that Wolfe gets from Greece, and she was extremely proud of something, not her looks. When a woman is proud of her looks it's just a smirk. I don't think I stammered, but if I didn't I should have. 'I'd like to see the superintendent.' 'Are you a policeman?' If she liked policemen the only thing to say was 'Yes.' But probably she didn't. 'No,' I said, 'I'm a newspaperman.' 'That's nice.' She turned and called, 'Father, a newspaperman!' and her voice raised was even more wonderful than her voice low. She turned back to me, graceful as a big cat, and stood there straight and proud, not quite smiling, her warm dark eyes as curious as if she had never seen a man before. I knew damn well I ought to say something, but what? The only thing to say was 'Will you marry me?' but that wouldn't do because the idea of her washing dishes or darning socks was preposterous. 32 Rex Stout Then I became aware of something, that I had moved my foot inside the sill so the door couldn't close, and that spoiled it. I was just a private detective trying to dig up a client. Footsteps sounded, and as they approached she moved aside. It was a man, a chunky broadshouldered guy two inches shorter than her, with a pug nose and bushy eyebrows. I stepped inside and greeted him. 'My name's Goodwin. From the Gazette. I want to rent a room, a front room.' He said to his daughter, 'Go, Maria,' and she turned and went, down the dark hall. He turned to me. 'No rooms.' 'A hundred dollars a week,' I said. 'I'm going to do an article on the scene of a murder after the murder. I want to take pictures of the people who come to look at it. A window on your second floor would be just the right angle.' 'I said no rooms.' His voice was deep and rough. 'You can shift someone around. Two hundred dollars.' 'No.' 'Three hundred.' 'No.' ^ 'Five hundred.' 'You're crazy. No.' 'I'm not crazy. You are. Snooting five hundred bucks. What's your name?' 'It's my name.' 'Oh for God's sake. I can get it next door or from the cop out front. What's wrong with it?' He half closed one eye. 'Nothing is wrong with it. My name is Cesar Perez. I am a citizen of the United States of America.' Too Many Clients 33 'So am I. Will you rent me a room for one week for five hundred dollars in advance in cash?' 'But what I said.' He gestured with both hands and both shoulders. 'No room. That man out there dead, this is a bad thing. To take pictures of the people from this house, no. Even if there was a room.' I decided to be impetuous. Delay could actually be dangerous, since Homicide or the DA might uncover a connection between Yeager and this house any moment. Getting my case from my pocket and taking an item from it, I handed it to him. 'Can you see in this light?' I asked. He didn't try. 'What is it?' 'My license. I'm not a newspaperman, I'm a private detective, and I'm investigating the murder of Thomas G. Yeager.' He half closed an eye again. He poked the license at me, and I took it. His chest swelled with an intake of air. 'You're not a policeman?' 'No.' 'Then get out of here. Get out of this house. I have told three different policemen I don't know anything about that man in the hole, and one of them insulted me. You get out.' 'All right,' I said, 'it's your house.' I returned the license to the case and the case to my pocket. 'But I'll tell you what will happen if you bounce me. Within half an hour a dozen policemen will take the house over, with a search warrant. They'll go over every inch of it. They'll round up everybody here, beginning with you and your daughter, and they'll nab everyone who enters. The reason they'll do that is that I'll tell them I can prove that Thomas G. 34 Rex Stout I Yeager came to this house Sunday evening and he was killed here.' 'That's a lie. Like that policeman. That's insult.' 'Okay. First I call to the cop out front to come in and stand by so you can't warn anyone.' I turned. I had hit it. With the cops of course he had been set, but I had been unexpected and had caught him off balance. And he wasn't a moron. He knew that even if I couldn't prove it I must have enough to sick the law on him and the house. As I turned he reached and got my sleeve. I turned back, and he stood there, his jaw working. I asked, not hostile, just wanting to know, 'Did you kill him?' 'You're a policeman,' he said. 'I am not. My name is Archie Goodwin and I work for a private detective named Nero Wolfe. We expect to get paid for investigating this case, that's how we make a living. So I'll be honest; we would rather find out for ourselves why Yeager came here instead of having the police do it, but if you won't cooperate I'll have to call that cop in. Did you kill him?' He wheeled and started down the hall. I moved, got his shoulder, and yanked him around. 'Did you kill him?' 'I've got a knife,' he said. 'In this house I've got a right to have it.' 'Sure. I've got this.' I pulled the Marley from the holster. 'And a permit for it. Did you kill him?' 'No. I want to see my wife. She thinks better than I do. My wife and daughter. I want--' A door ten feet down the hall swung open, and a woman's voice said, 'We're here, Cesar,' and there they were. The one coming was a tall grim-faced ^- ''^^^'P^^^^^^^^ffiHffilHI^I^H^^I^^^'^^^^^^^^^^^^B If K I ---- ^!-------- % I' Too Many Clients 35 woman with an air of command. Maria stayed at the door. Perez started reeling off Spanish at his wife, but she broke in. 'Stop it! He'll think it's secrets. With an American talk American.' She focused sharp black eyes on me. 'We heard you. I knew this would come, only I thought it would be the police. My husband is an honest man. He did not kill Mr. Yeager. We call him Mr. House because it's his house. How do you know?' I returned the Marley to the holster. 'Since I do know, Mrs. Perez, does it matter how?' 'No, I am a fool to ask. All right, ask questions.' 'I'd rather have your husband answer them. It may take a while. If there's a room with chairs?' 'I'll answer them. We sit down with friends. You after my husband with a gun.' 'I was only showing off. Okay, if your legs can stand it mine can. What time did Mr. Yeager come here Sunday?' 'I thought you knew.' 'I do. I'm finding out how you answer questions. If you answer too many of them wrong I'll try your husband, or the police will.' She considered it a moment. 'He came around seven o'clock.' 'Did he come to see you or your husband or your daughter?' She glared. 'No.' 'Whom did he come to see?' 'I don't know. We don't know.' 'Try again. That's silly. I'm not going to spend all day prying it out of you bit by bit.' She eyed me. 'Have you ever been up there?' 36 Rex Stout 'I'm asking the questions, Mrs. Perez. Whom did he come to see?' 'We don't know.' She turned. 'Go, Maria.' 'But Mother, it's not?' 'Go!' Maria went, back inside, and shut the door. It was just as well, since it's a strain to keep your eyes where they ought to be when they want to be somewhere else. Mother returned to me. 'He came around seven o'clock and knocked on the door. That one.' She pointed to the door Maria had shut behind her. 'He spoke to my husband and paid him some money. Then he went down the hall to the elevator. We don't know if someone was up there or if someone came later. We were looking at the television, so we wouldn't hear if someone came in and went to the elevator. Anyhow we weren't supposed to know. The door in front has a good lock. So it's not silly that we don't know who he came to see.' 'Where's the elevator?' 'In the back. It has a lock too.' 'You asked if I have ever been up there. Have you?' 'Of course. Every day. We keep it clean.' 'Then you have a key. We'll go up now.' I moved. She glanced at her husband, hesitated, glanced at me, went and opened the door Maria had closed and said something in Spanish, and started down the hall. Perez followed, and I brought up the rear. At the far end of the hall, clear back, she took a key from a pocket of her skirt and inserted it in the lock of a metal door, another Rabson lock. The door, either aluminum or stainless steel, slid open. That ;g^.,^w_gggpq Too Many Clients 37 door certainly didn't fit that hall, and neither did the inside of the elevator--more stainless steel, with red enameled panels on three sides. It was small, not even as large as Wolfe's at home. It ascended, silent and smooth, I judged, right to the top floor, the door slid open, and we stepped out. For the second time in an hour I must have either gaped or gasped when Perez turned on the lights. I have seen quite a few rooms where people had gone all out, but that topped them all. It may have been partly the contrast with the neighborhood, the outside of the house, and the down below, but it would have been remarkable no matter where. The first impression was of silk and skin. The silk, mostly red but some pale yellow, was on the walls and ceiling and couches. The skin was on the girls and women in the pictures, paintings, that took a good third of the wall space. In all directions was naked skin. The pale yellow carpet, wall to wall, was silk too, or looked it. The room was enormous, twenty-five feet wide and the full length of the house, with no windows at either end. Headed to the right wall, near the center, was a bed eight feet square with a pale yellow silk coverlet. Since yellow was Wolfe's pet color it was too bad he hadn't come along. I sniffed the air. It was fresh enough, but it smelled. Air-conditioned, with built-in perfume. There weren't many surfaces that would hold fingerprints--the tops of two tables, a TV console, a stand with a telephone. I turned to Mrs. Perez. 'Have you cleaned here since Sunday night?' 'Yes, yesterday morning.' That settled that. 'Where's the door to the stairs?' 'No stairs.' 'They're boarded up below,' Perez said. 38 Rex Stout 'The elevator's the only way to come up?' p- 'Yes.' 'How long has it been like this?' 'Four years. Since he bought the house. We had been here two years.' 'How often did he come here?' 'We don't know.' 'Certainly you do, if you came up every day to ,<?. clean. How often?' 'Maybe once a week, maybe more.' ,: I turned on Perez. 'Why did you kill him?' S^ 'No.' He half closed an eye. 'Me? No.' |N^ 'Who did?' t'^ 'We dont know,' his wife said. '; ^ I ignored her. 'Look,' I told him. 'I don't want to turn you over unless I have to. Mr. Wolfe and I would prefer to keep you to ourselves. But if you don't open up we'll have no choice, and there may not be much time. They've got a lot of fingerprints from the tarpaulin that covered his body. I know he was killed in this house. If just one of those