Too Many Clients

think I shouldn't, you can call in that cop from out front.' 'We couldn't,' Perez said. 'He makes a joke,' she told him. She pushed the button to bring the elevator up. 'This is a bad day, Cesar. There will be many bad days, and he makes a joke.' The elevator clicked at the top, she pushed another button, the door opened, and they entered and were gone. I moved my eyes around. At the edge of a panel of red silk at the left was a rectangular brass plate, if it wasn't gold. I went and pulled on it, and it gave. Too Many Clients 47 The panel was a door. I pushed it open and stepped through, and was in the kitchen. The walls were red tile, the cupboards and shelves were yellow plastic, and the sink and appliances, including the refrigerator and electric range, were stainless steel. I opened the refrigerator door, saw a collection of various items, and closed it. I slid a cupboard door back and saw nine bottles of Dom Perignon champagne on their sides in a plastic rack. That would do for the kitchen for now. I emerged and walked the length of the yellow carpet, surrounded by silk and skin, to the other end, where there was another brass plate, or gold, at the edge of a panel. I pushed it open and was in the bathroom. I don't know what your taste is, but I liked it. It was all mirrors and marble, red marble with yellow streaks and splotches. The tub, big enough for two, was the same marble. Two of the mirrors were doors to cabinets, and they contained enough different cosmetic items to supply a harem. I returned to the silk and skin. There were no drawers anywhere, no piece of furniture that might contain pieces of paper on which someone had written something. There was nothing at the telephone stand but the phone, which was yellow, and the directory, which was in a red leather holder. But along one wall, the one across from the bed, there was no furniture for about thirty feet of its length, and the silk along the bottom, for three feet up from the floor, was in little folds like a curtain, not flat as it was everywhere else. I went and gave the silk a tug and it parted and slid along the top, and behind it were drawer fronts, of wood something like mahogany, but redder. I pulled one open. Female slippers, a dozen pairs in two neat rows, various 48 Rex Stout colors and shapes and sizes. The sizes ranged from quite small to fairly large. I looked into only five more drawers before I went to the phone. That was enough to make it plain that Meg Duncan wasn't the only one who had keys to the door and elevator. There was another drawer of slippers, again assorted colors and sizes, and two drawers of nighties, a mighty fine collection. It was after I unfolded eight of them and spread them on the bed for comparison, and found that they also covered a wide range in sizes, that I went to the phone and dialed a number. There was a possibility that it was tapped or there was an extension, but it was very slim, and I preferred the slight risk to going out to a booth. Saul Panzer, whose number I dialed, was the free-lance operative we called on when only the best would do. But what I got was the answering-service girl, who said that Mr. Panzer was out and couldn't be reached and would I leave a message. I said no and dialed another number, Fred Durkin's, the next best, and got him. He said he had nothing on for the day. 'You have now,' I told him. 'Pack a bag for a week. It will probably be less but could be more. Come as you are, no costumes required, but have a gun. You probably won't use it, but have it. Come to One-fifty-six West Eighty-second Street, the basement entrance, superintendent, and push the button at the door. It will be a man or a woman, either Cuban or Puerto Rican, I'm not sure which. They speak American. Tell him or her your name and ask for me, and you'll have the pleasure and honor of being brought to my presence. Don't hurry. Take three minutes to pack if you want to.' s. Ofi Too Many Clients 49 'Eighty-second Street,' he said. 'Murder. What was his name? Yeager.' 'You read too much and you're morbid and you jump to conclusions. Pack your bag and button your lip.' I hung up. Folding flimsy nighties properly is no job for a man and it takes time, but I gritted my teeth and stuck to it, because a detective is supposed to leave a place the way he found it. Them back in the drawer, I brought the elevator up, took it down, and went to an open door, the first one on the left in the hall. The Perez family was having a conference in the kitchen. Father and mother were sitting, and Maria was standing. There was more light than there had been in the front of the hall, and with that rare specimen, the more light the better. Looking at her, any man alive would have the thought, What the hell, I could wash the dishes and dam the socks myself. The beige nightie with lace around the top, medium-sized, would have fitted her fine. I made my eyes go to her parents and spoke. 'A man will come pretty soon, tall and thick in all directions. He'll give his name, Fred Durkin, and ask for me. Send him up.' I got the expected reaction from Mrs. Perez. I had no right to tell anybody about that place, they were going to pay me, and so forth. Wishing to keep on speaking terms with our clients, I took four minutes to explain why I had to leave Fred there when I went, got her calmed down, permitted my eyes to dart another glance at Maria, took the elevator back up, and resumed on the drawers where I had left off. I won't take time and space to list an inventory, but will merely say that everything that could be needed for such an establish50 Rex Stout ment was there. I'll only mention two details: one, that there was only one drawer of male items, and the six suits of pajamas were all the same size; and two, the drawer in which I found Meg Duncan's cigarette case was obviously a catchall. There were three women's handkerchiefs, used, an anonymous compact, a lady's umbrella, a matchbook from Terry's Pub, and other such miscellany. I had just put it all back in and was closing the drawer when I heard the click from the elevator. Presumably it was Fred, but possibly not, so I got the Marley out and went to the wall by the elevator door. I could hear no voices from below; the place was so thoroughly soundproofed that you could hear nothing but a faint suggestion of noise from the street traffic, and that was more felt than heard. Soon the click came again, the door opened, and Fred slipped out. He stood and swiveled his head, right and left, brought it around until he caught a glimpse of me, turned it back again, and spoke. 'Jesus Keerist!' 'Your new home,' I told him. 'I do hope you'll be happy here. The idea is, you take your pick from the pictures. Something like the Mountain Room at the Churchill with live trout and you choose the one you want for lunch. I strongly recommend the one over there sitting on a rose bush. If she can stand thorns she can stand you.' He put his bag down. 'You know, Archie, I've always wondered why you didn't marry. How long have you had it?' 'Oh, ten years, I guess. I have others here and there around town. I'm turning this one over to you Too Many Clients 51 for a while. Kitchen, bathroom, TV, maid service. Like it?' 'Good God. I'm a married man.' 'Yeah. Too bad. I'd like to stay and explain the pictures to you, but I have to go. The point is, if a visitor comes, someone should be here to receive her. It could be a him, but more likely it would be a her. Most likely there won't be any, but there might be. She might come at any hour, day or night. The less you know the better; just take my word for it that if she steps out of that elevator you are in a position to refuse to let her get back in, and there's no other way out of here. Identify yourself or not, as you prefer. Ring me, and I'll come.' He was frowning. 'Alone with a woman, restraining her by force isn't so good.' 'You won't have to touch her unless she starts it.' 'She sticks her head out a window and yells police.' 'Not a chance. There's no window, and she wouldn't want anyone to know she's here, least of all a cop. The one thing she'll want is to get out, and fast.' He was still frowning. 'The hole that Yeager's body was found in is right out front. Maybe I ought to know a little more.' 'Not from me. Why drag in Yeager? He's dead; I read it in the paper. If the phone rings take it and ask who it is and see what happens, but don't say who you are. That's the door to the kitchen.' I pointed. 'There's some fancy stuff in the refrigerator when you get hungry. The people down below are Mr. and Mrs. Cesar Perez and their daughter Maria. Did you see Maria?' 52 Rex Stout 'No.' 'I'm going to marry her when I find time. I'll tell Mrs. Perez to bring you up a loaf of bread, and if you have to have anything she'll get it. She and her husband are out on a limb and they're counting on me to get a ladder. Okay, enjoy the pictures. You couldn't ask for a better chance to study anatomy.' I opened the elevator door. 'What if it's a man that comes?' 'It won't be. If it is, stick to the program; that's why I told you to have a gun.' 'What if it's a cop?' 'One chance in a million. Not even that. Tell him you've forgotten your name and he'll have to ring me at Nero Wolfe's office. Then I'll know what happened.' 'And I'll be in the coop.' 'Right. But not for long. We'll have you out by Christmas easy. There's half a pound of fresh caviar in the refrigerator, twenty dollars' worth. Help yourself.' I entered the elevator. Downstairs I explained the situation to Mrs. Perez and asked her to take up a loaf of bread, and left the house. My. watch said noon, on the dot, as I headed for Columbus Avenue for a taxi. FR1;Chapter 5 At five minutes past one, Wolfe, at his desk, growled at me. 'Your objective was to find an acceptable client, not a pair of wretches who probably killed him and another wretch who offers a reward for a cigarette case. I concede your craft, your finesse, and your gumption, and I even felicitate you, but if you have discovered the culprits, as seems probable, where do you send a bill?' I had reported in full, omitting only one detail, a factual description of Maria. He was quite capable of assuming, or pretending to assume, that I was prejudiced in favor of Mr. and Mrs. Perez on account of their daughter. I had described the place accurately and completely, and had even included my handling of the nightie problem. I had admitted that I had tried to get Saul Panzer (ten dollars an hour), and had got Fred Durkin instead (seven-fifty an hour) only because Saul was not available. 'I won't see them,' he said. I knew, or thought I did, where the real snag was, but I had to go easy. I nodded thoughtfully. 'Of course they could have killed him,' I said, 'but one will get you five that they didn't. For the reasons I 54 Rex Stout gave. His tone and his expression when he told me why he put the tarp over the body. The fact that she let the daughter come to the door when I rang the bell. If she had killed him she would have come herself. But chiefly, with him alive they were in clover. Of course he was paying them plenty. With him dead