Too Many Clients (6 page)

When you enter the hall of the old brownstone on West 35th Street, the first door on your left is to what we call the front room, and the one beyond it is to the office. Both of those rooms are soundproofed, not as perfectly as Yeager’s bower of carnality, but well enough, including the doors. I took Julia McGee to the front room, had my offer to take her coat declined, and went through the connecting door to the office, closing it behind me. Wolfe was in his favorite chair with his book. He is not a fast reader, and that book has 677 pages, with about 600 words to the page. When I crossed to his desk and told him I had brought company he finished a paragraph, closed the book on a finger, and scowled at me.

I went on. “Her name is Julia McGee. She says she was Yeager’s secretary, which is probably true because it can be easily checked. She says she went there tonight to get a notebook she had left there, which is a he and not a very good one. There is no notebook in that room. When she entered and saw Fred she went for him and drew blood on his face, and he had to wrap her up in a bed cover so he could use the phone. After I got her name and address from things in her bag I told her she could either go now and explain to the police later or she could come here with me, and she came with me. I made a concession, I told her she could use the phone as soon as she got here, with us present.”

He said, “Grrrrh.” I gave him two seconds to add to it, but apparently that was all, so I went and opened the door to the front room and told her to come in. She came on by me, stopped to glance around, saw the phone on my desk, crossed to it, sat in my chair, and dialed. Wolfe inserted his bookmark, put the book down, leaned back, and glared at her.

She told the receiver, “I want to speak to Mr. Aiken. This is Julia McGee. . . . That’s right. . . . Thank you.” A one-minute wait. “Mr. Aiken'. . . Yes. . . . Yes, I know, but I had to tell you, there was a man there and he attacked me and . . . No, let me tell you, another man came and said they were working for Nero Wolfe, the detective. . . . Yes, Nero Wolfe. The second one, Archie Goodwin, said Nero Wolfe wanted to talk with anyone who came to that room and wanted me to go with him, and that’s where I am now, in Nero Wolfe’s office. . . . Yes. . . . No, I don’t think so, they’re both right here, Nero Wolfe and Archie Goodwin. … I don’t know. . . . Yes, of course, but I don’t know. . . . Wait, I’ll ask.”

She turned to me. “What’s this address?” I told her, and she went back to the phone. “Six-eighteen West Thirty-fifth Street. . . . That’s right. . . . Yes, I will.” She hung up, swiveled, told Wolfe, “Mr. Aiken will be here in twenty minutes,” and wriggled her coat off.

Wolfe asked, “Who is Mr. Aiken?”

Her look was what you would get from the Yankee batboy if you asked him who is Mr. Stengel. “Mr. Benedict Aiken. The president of Continental Plastic Products.”

That changed my mind. Wanting my own chair, I had been about to move her to the red leather one, but she would only have to move again when the president came, so I brought one of the yellow ones for her, facing Wolfe’s desk, and put her coat on the couch. As she changed to it Wolfe lifted his head to sniff. His opinion of perfume may be only a part of his opinion of women. He always thinks he smells it when there’s a woman in the room. I had been closer to Julia McGee than he had, and she wasn’t scented.

He eyed her. “You told Mr. Goodwin that you went to that room this evening to get a notebook you had left there. When did you leave it?”

She was meeting his eyes. “I’ll wait until Mr. Aiken gets here.”

Wolfe shook his head. “That won’t do. I can’t prevent his coming, but he’ll enter only if it suits me. I want some facts before he arrives. When did you leave the notebook?”

She opened her mouth and closed it again. In a moment she spoke. “I didn’t. That was a�that wasn’t true. I went there this evening because Mr. Aiken asked me to.”

“Indeed. To get something he had left?”

“No. I’d rather wait until he’s here, but it doesn’t matter. You know that place was Mr. Yeager’s, so it doesn’t matter. Mr. Aiken sent me there to see if there was anything there that would connect Mr. Yeager with it, that would show it was his place.”

“Mr. Aiken gave you keys?”

“No, I had keys. I had been there a few times to take dictation from Mr. Yeager. I was his secretary.”

Wolfe grunted. “I haven’t seen that room, but Mr. Goodwin has described it. Did you think it a suitable milieu for business dictation?”

“It wasn’t my place to think it was suitable or wasn’t. If he thought it was�he was my boss.”

Wolfe looked at me. I raised my brows. One brow up meant no, even money. Two brows up meant no, five to one. He returned to her.

“If you had found something that showed it was Mr. Yeager’s place, what were you going to do with it?” “I was going to take it. Take it away.” “As instructed by Mr. Aiken?” “Yes.” “Why?”

“Mr. Aiken can tell you that better than I can.”

“You must have a notion. You didn’t think that he was merely indulging a whim.”

“Of course not. The obvious reason was that he wanted to protect the reputation of Continental Plastic Products. It was bad enough, the executive vice-president being murdered. Mr. Aiken didn’t want it to be known that he had been�that he had had a� a place like that.”

“Do you know how Mr. Aiken found out that Mr. Yeager had that place?”

“Yes. I told him.”

“When?”

“About two months ago. Mr. Yeager had had me go there twice �no, three times�to take dictation in the evening. He said he could think better, do better work, away from the office. Of course you’re right, what you said about that room. I thought it was very �well, vulgar for him to ask me to go there. I worried about it, and I decided my loyalty shouldn’t be to Mr. Yeager, it should be to the corporation. It paid my salary. So I told Mr. Aiken.”

“What did he say?”

“He thanked me for telling him.”

“What did he do?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know if he did anything.” “Did he speak to Mr. Yeager about it?” “I don’t know.”

“Pfui. Certainly you know. If he had, Mr. Yeager would have known you told him. Did you remark any change in Mr. Yeager’s attitude to you?”

“No.”

“Did he continue to ask you to go there to take dictation?” “Yes.”

“How many times in the two months since you told Mr. Aiken?” “Twice.”

Wolfe shut his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose with a fingertip. Ten seconds. His eyes opened. “When did Mr. Aiken ask you to go there this evening?”

“This afternoon at the office. He asked if I still had the keys, and I said yes. He asked if I had ever told anyone else about that place, and I said no. He said it would be a great favor to the corporation if I would go there and make sure that�what I told you.”

“Have you any reason to suppose that Mr. Aiken has ever been there?”

Her eyes widened. “Of course not.”

He shook his head. “No, Miss McGee. No assumption is of course in an unsolved problem. I may if I choose assume that you have been entirely candid with me, but I may not�”

The doorbell rang. I got up and went, and there on the stoop was the president. The stoop light is at an angle on someone facing the door, from the side, so features aren’t distinct, but the gray homburg and the fit of the gray topcoat were enough. I went and opened the door and asked, “Mr. Aiken'Come in.”

He stayed put. “Am I expected?”

“Yes, sir. Miss McGee is with Mr. Wolfe.”

He crossed the sill, and I helped him off with his coat. With his hat off, I recognized him; he had been seated near Thomas G. Yeager in the picture I had seen in Lon Cohen’s office of the banquet of the National Plastics Association. His face was well formed and well kept, and though his hair was mostly gray, he still had it. Every inch a president. He had paid at least eight times as much for his suit as the phony Yeager had paid for his. When I convoyed him to the office he stopped four steps in and said, “Good evening, Miss McGee,” then turned to Wolfe and said, “Good evening, sir. I’m Benedict Aiken.”

She was on her feet. I thought she had risen to show respect, but Wolfe spoke to Aiken. “I have told Miss McGee that I’ll speak with you privately first. If you please, madam'The door, Archie.”

“Just a minute.” Aiken wasn’t belligerent, just firm. “I’d like to speak with Miss McGee myself.”

“No doubt.” Wolfe upturned a palm. “Mr. Aiken. What Miss McGee told you on the phone was correct except for one detail, that she was attacked. I stationed a man in that room on the chance that someone would come there. Miss McGee came, and she-“

“Why are you interested in that room?”

“Because it belonged to Thomas G. Yeager and was used by him. The man didn’t attack Miss McGee; she attacked him. In explaining to me why she went there she mentioned you, and I would like an explanation from you so I can compare it with hers. She may be present if you prefer, but not if she tries to interrupt. If she does, Mr. Goodwin will stop her.”

Aiken looked at me, sizing me up. He went to the red leather chair and sat, in no hurry, making himself comfortable with his elbows on the arms. His eyes went to Wolfe. “Why do you think that room belonged to Thomas G. Yeager?”

“I don’t think, I know.”

“Why are you concerned'Whom are you acting for?”

“Myself. I have no engagement. I am in possession of a fact about a man who was murdered that is not commonly known. I am not legally obliged to communicate it to the police, and I am exploring the possibility of using it to my profit�not by concealing it, but by exploiting it. Like doctors, lawyers, plumbers, and many others, I get my income from the necessities, the tribulations, and the misfortunes of my fellow beings. You are under no compulsion to tell me why you are concerned, but I am willing to listen. I didn’t get you here.”

Aiken was smiling, not with amusement. “I can’t complain,” he said, “since you have the handle. I didn’t expect you to tell me who has hired you, but it’s hard to believe that no one has. How did you find out about that room?”

Wolfe shook his head. “I owe you no light, sir. But I have not been hired. If I had a client I would say so, of course without naming him.”

“How are you going to use the fact you possess about that room?”

“I don’t know. That will be determined by events. My man is still there.”

“When you speak of using it to your profit, of course you mean get paid by somebody.” “Certainly.”

“All right.” Aiken shifted in the chair. “You want to compare my explanation with Miss McGee’s. Of course you know that Yeager was the executive vice-president of my corporation, Continental Plastic Products. Miss McGee was his secretary. Some two months ago she came to me and told me about that room, that Yeager had had her go there several times in the evening to work with him on various matters. She had no complaint of his conduct, but she thought I should know about that room and what it indicated of Yeager’s character and habits. From her description of the room I thought she was fully justified. Obviously it was a difficult problem. I asked her to mention it to no one, and not to refuse to go there again; I would have to take time to consider how to deal with it.”

“Did you mention it to him?”

“No. I don’t know how much you know of the administrative complexities of a large corporation, but the main question was whether the best procedure would be to discuss it with him first or take it up with my board of directors. I still hadn’t decided yesterday when the news came that he was dead, that his body had been found in a hole in the street in front of that house. Naturally that was a shock, that he had been murdered, that was �well, very unpleasant�but it would be worse than unpleasant, it would be disastrous, if the existence of that room became known. Since his body had been found in front of that house, it would be assumed that someone involved in his activities in that room had killed him, and the investigation, the publicity, the inevitable scandal would be terrible. I was going to call an emergency meeting of my board, but decided instead to consult three of my directors in confidence. It was possible that Yeager had kept the existence of that room so secret that his connection with it would not become known. I suggested asking Miss McGee to go there and get any articles that might identify Yeager, and the suggestion was approved. And your man was there.” His head turned. “Exactly what happened, Miss McGee?”

“When I got out of the elevator, there he was,” she said. “I guess I lost my head. I supposed he was a detective, a police detective. I tried to get back in the elevator, and he grabbed me, and I tried to get loose but couldn’t. He folded a bed cover around me and strapped it tight, and made a phone call, and after a while this man came, Archie Goodwin. He found out who I was from things in my bag and told me they were working for Nero Wolfe and they knew it was Mr. Yeager’s room, and since they knew that I thought I had better come here when he asked me to. He wouldn’t let me phone until I got here. I’m sorry, Mr. Aiken, but what could I do?”

“Nothing.” Aiken went back to Wolfe. “So that’s why / am concerned. You won’t deny that it’s a legitimate concern?”

“No indeed. Legitimate and exigent. But also desperate; you can’t possibly hope that Mr. Yeager’s connection with that room will never be divulged.”

“I don’t hope. I act. Will you tell me how you learned about it?”

“No.”

“I’ll pay you for it. I’ll pay well.”

“I don’t sell information, Mr. Aiken, I sell services.” “I’m buying them. You said you weren’t engaged; you are now. I’m hiring you.” “To do what?”

“Whatever may be necessary to protect the reputation and interests of my corporation, Continental Plastic Products. I am acting for the corporation.”

Wolfe shook his head. “I doubt if it would work. I couldn’t undertake not to disclose Mr. Yeager’s connection with that room; events might take charge. The alternative would be for me to take charge of events.”

“How?”

“By guiding them. It would be futile for you to pay me not to reveal what I have learned about that room, even if I were ass enough to accept it; sooner or later the police will inevitably discover it, given time. The only feasible way to protect the reputation and interests of your corporation with any hope of success would be to stop the police investigation of the murder by reaching an acceptable solution of it without involving that room.”