Too Many Clients

16

On the wall of the office, at the right as you enter, is a picture of a waterfall, not large, 14 by 17. Its center is one inch below my eye level, but I'm just under six feet tall. The picture was made to order. On the wall of the alcove at the end of the hall is a hinged wood panel. Swing it open, and there's the back of the picture, but your eyes go on through and you are looking into the office. At twenty minutes past twelve the eyes that were doing that belonged to Mr. Arthur Wenger of 362 East 77th Street, a skinny guy past fifty with big ears and not much hair, who had been delivered by Saul Panzer in a little less than the specified half hour. The object in the office nearest him was the red leather chair, and its occupant, Mr. Benedict Aiken.

I wasn't in the alcove with Wenger; Saul was. Wolfe and I were at our desks in the office. Julia McGee was on a yellow chair facing Wolfe's desk. Wolfe was speaking, but before I submit my conclusion I must tell you how I came by it. When you asked me Tuesday evening who would decide if I have faithfully observed the provision of my employment, I said reason and good faith, applied jointly. You can judge fairly only if you know how I proceeded. Frankly, I am myself not entirely certain. I only know that in the circumstances - Yes, Saul?"

Saul was in the doorway. "It's a perfect fit, Mr. Wolfe."

"Very well. I'll look at it later." Wolfe went back to Aiken. "In the circumstances there was no other course open to me. As I told you, the only way to stop the police investigation of the murder was to reach an acceptable solution of it without involving that room. I have never tackled a task that looked so unpromising. Indeed, knowing as I did that Yeager had been killed in that room, it seemed all but hopeless."

"You didn't know that until you set that trap for Miss McGee yesterday." Aiken was curt.

"No. I knew it much earlier, Tuesday noon, when Mr. Goodwin reported his conversation with Mr. and Mrs. Perez, the janitor of that house and his wife. When Mr. Perez had gone up with refreshments at midnight Sunday he had found the body there, and they had taker it out and put it in that hole."

"They admitted it?"

"They had to. The alternative Mr. Goodwin offered them was worse."

"They killed him. That's obvious. They killed him."

Wolfe shook his; head ''That was an acceptable conjecture until yesterday morning, but they didn't kill their daughter - and that's where my report to you begins. That conjecture was then discarded in favor of another, that that girl had been killed by the person who killed Yeager - discarded by me, not by Mr. Goodwin, who had not accepted it. Summoned to that house Wednesday night by Mrs. Perez, he searched the girl's room and found evidence that supported the second conjecture. Archie?"

I went and got Maria's collection from the safe and took it to him.

He tapped it with a fingertip. "This," he said, "is that girl's carefully hidden record of a secret venture that in the end cost her her life. It is all concerned with Thomas G. Yeager. No doubt it was initiated, as so many ventures are, by simple curiosity, stirred by the existence of the elevator and the room which she was not allowed to see. She found that by turning out the light in her room and opening her door a crack she could see visitors bound for the elevator as they came down the hall. I don't know when she first did that, but I do know that, having started, she repeated it frequently."

He picked up the tear sheet. "These are from the financial pages of the Times, with the entries for Continental Plastic Products marked with a pencil." He put them aside. "These are advertisements of Continental Plastic Products." He put them with the tear sheets. "Labels from champagne bottles. Mr. Goodwin is of the opinion that Miss Perez drank none of the champagne, and I concur. These items are not essentials, they are merely tassels. So are these: newspaper reproductions of photographs, two of Mr. Yeager, one of his son, and one of his wife. I mention them only to show you how diligent Miss Perez was."

He put them with the other tassels and picked up the pictures of Meg Duncan and the bills. "These two items are of more consequence: nine five-dollar bills, and three pictures of a woman who is a public figure - one from a newspaper and two from magazines. I have spoken with her, and Mr. Goodwin talked with her at length yesterday afternoon. The money was extorted from her by Miss Perez, who had seen her in that house and demanded what she called hush money. The woman sent her five dollars a month for nine months, by mail. There is no need to name her."

He opened a drawer, put the pictures and bills in it, and shut it. "But those items raise a question. Call the woman Miss X. Mr Yeager arrived at the house Sunday evening around seven o'clock. Miss McGee arrived a a quarter past nine and found him dead. The conjecture was that Miss Perez had seen some one arrive between those hours, had recognized him or her, had concluded that he or she had killed Yeager, had undertaken a more ambitious venture in extortion, and had herself been killed. Then, since she would have recognized Miss X, why not assume that Miss X was the culprit? A reasonable assumption; but it has been established beyond question that Miss X was at a public gathering Wednesday evening until eleven o'clock, and Miss Perez left the motion-picture theater, to keep her appointment with her intended prey, before nine o'clock."

Aiken flipped an impatient hand. "You said this was urgent. What's urgent about proving that a Miss X is out of it?"

"The urgency will appear. This is a necessary prelude to it. Still another reason for excluding not only Miss X, but others: Whoever went there Sunday evening between seven and nine, with a gun and intending to use it, must have known that no other visitor would be there. What is true of Miss X is also true of every other woman who had keys to that place: First, she couldn't have gone by invitation, since Miss McGee had been invited, and Yeager entertained only one guest at a time; and second, she couldn't have expected to find him alone there on a Sunday evening - or rather, she could have expected to find him alone only if she knew that Miss McGee would arrive at nine o'clock.'' Wolfe's head turned. "Miss McGee. Had you told anyone that you were going there at nine o'clock?"

"No." It came out a squeak and she tried it again. "No, I hadn't."

"Then the others are excluded as well as Miss X. Now for you, madam. And the next item in Miss Perez' collection. These are pencil sketches she made of women she saw in that hall." He picked them up. "She was not without talent. There are thirty-one of them, and they are dated. Mr. Goodwin and I have studied them with care. There are four sketches each of three women, three each of five women, two of one woman, and one each of two women. The one of whom there are two sketches is you, and one of them is dated May eighth. It gave me the surmise, which I tricked you into validating, that you were there Sunday evening. Would you care to look at it?"

"No." This time it was too loud. Wolfe put the sketches in the drawer and returned his eyes to Julia McGee. "It was the fact that those two sketches were in the collection that made it extremely doubtful that it was you who had killed Miss Perez, having been threatened with exposure by her. For there are no sketches of persons whose names she knew. There are none of Mr. Yeager or Miss X. The sketches are merely memoranda; It is highly likely that she had made one or more of Miss X, but when she had identified her from published pictures she discarded the sketches. If she had identified you, if she knew your name, she would have preserved, not the sketches, but the ground for the identification, as she did with Miss X. Surely she would not have made a second sketch of you when she saw you in the hall Sunday evening."

Aiken snorted. "You don't have to persuade us that Miss McGee didn't kill the girl. Or Yeager."

Wolfe turned to him. "I am describing my progress to my conclusion. It is apparent that Miss Perez had assembled, and was keeping hidden, a complete record of her discoveries regarding Mr. Yeager and the visitors to that room. It is certain that she knew the name of the person whom she saw in the hall between seven and nine Sunday evening, since she was able to reach him, to confront him with her knowledge and her threat. Therefore it was a sound assumption that this collection contained an item or items on which her identification of that person was based."

He pointed to the tassels. "Two such items are there: the pictures of Mr. Yeager's wife and son, with their names. I rejected them because they did not meet the specifications. The person who went there Sunday evening with a gun and shot Yeager with it must have had keys and known how to use them, and he must have known that Miss McGee intended to arrive at nine o'clock, since otherwise he could not have expected to find Yeager alone. It was conceivable that either the wife or son met those requirements, but it was highly improbable."

He picked up the remaining item. "Adopting that reasoning, at least tentatively, I was left with this. This is a picture, reproduced in a magazine, of a gathering in the ballroom of the Churchill Hotel, a banquet of the National Plastics Association. Mr. Yeager is at the microphone. The caption gives the names of the men on this dais with him, including you. No doubt you are familiar with the picture?"

"Yes. I have it framed on the wall of my office."

"Well." Wolfe dropped it on his desk. "I asked myself, what if it was you whom Miss Perez saw in the hall on your way to the elevator Sunday evening between seven and nine? What if, having this picture in her collection, she recognized you? What if, later, having learned that Yeager had been killed up in that room - for she must have seen her father and mother transporting the body - she guessed that you had killed him, decided to make you pay for her silence, communicated with you, made an appointment to meet you, and kept it? You will concede that those were permissible questions."

"Permissible? Yes." Aiken was disdainful. "You don't need permission to ask preposterous questions."

Wolfe nodded. "Of course that was the point. Were they preposterous? To answer that, further questions had to be asked. One, could you have had keys? Two, could you have known Yeager would be there alone? Three, had you a motive?"

Wolfe stuck a finger up. ''One. You could have borrowed Miss McGee's keys, but if so you would have had to return them to her before nine o'clock so she could let herself in. That did seem preposterous, that you would return the borrowed keys so she could enter, find Yeager's body, and inevitably assume that you had killed him. Not tenable."

"Do you expect me to sit here and listen to this nonsense?"

"I do. We have arrived at the urgency and you know it." Another finger up. " Two. Yes. You could have known Yeager would be there alone. Miss McGee says she told no one of her nine o'clock appointment, but that was to be expected if it was you she told." Another finger. "Three. When I first asked that question, had you a motive, I knew nothing about it, but I do now. Yesterday I made some inquiries on the telephone - I assure you they were discreet - and last evening Mrs. Yeager sat for an hour in the chair you now occupy and gave me many details. For five years, since he became executive vice-president, Yeager has been a threat to your leadership of the corporation, and in the last year the threat has become ominous and imminent. The best you could expect was that you would be made chairman of the board, removed from active control, and even that was doubtful. Since you had dominated the corporation's affairs for more than ten years, that prospect was intolerable. You can't very well challenge this, since the situation is known to many people."

Wolfe's fingers came down, and his hand dropped to the desk. "But what chiefly concerned me when you and Miss McGee left this room twenty-four hours ago was not your motive; a motive, however deeply hidden, can be exposed. The problem was the keys, and there was an obvious possibility, that you had borrowed Miss McGee's keys, not last Sunday, but at some previous date, had had duplicates made, and had returned them to her. Testing that possibility would have been hopeless if they had been ordinary keys, but Rabsons are peculiar and there aren't many of them. I decided to try. I sent for three men who help me on occasion and gave them this picture and the keys I got from Miss McGee yesterday. They had copies made of the picture and duplicates of the keys, and returned these to me. They were to start with the locksmiths nearest your home and office. Only a little more than an hour ago, just before I phoned you, one of them, Mr. Saul Panzer, turned the possibility into a fact. This is of course the crux of my report." He pushed a button on his desk. "This begot the urgency."

His eyes went to the door, and Saul appeared with Arthur Wenger. They came to the front of Wolfe's desk and turned to face Aiken. Wolfe said to Aiken, "This is Mr. Arthur Wenger. Do you recognize him?"

Aiken was staring at Wenger. He moved the stare to Wolfe. "No," he said. "I've never seen him."

"Mr. Wenger, this is Mr. Benedict Aiken. Do you recognize him?"

The locksmith nodded. "I recognized him from the picture. It's him all right."

"Where and when have you seen him before?"

"He came to my shop one day last week with a couple of Rabson keys to get duplicates made. He waited while I made them. I think it was Wednesday, but it could have been Tuesday. He's a liar when he says he's never seen me."

"How sure are you?"

"I couldn't be any surer. People are like keys; they're a lot alike but they're all different. I don't know faces as well as I know keys, but well enough. I look at keys and I look at faces."

"It's an excellent habit. That's all now, sir, but I'll appreciate it if you can spare another hour.''

"I said I could."

"I know. I appreciate it."

Saul touched Wenger's arm, and they went.

In the hall they turned left, toward the kitchen. Soon after Saul had phoned, Fritz had got started on a chicken pie with forcemeat and truffles for their lunch, and it would soon be ready.

Wolfe leaned back, cupped his hands over the ends of the chair arms, and spoke. "Miss McGee. Manifestly Mr. Aiken is doomed. You shifted your loyalty from Mr. Yeager to him; now you must shift it from him to yourself. You're in a pickle. If he is put on trial you'll be a witness. If you testify under oath that you did not lend him your keys and that you didn't tell him you would arrive at that house at nine o'clock Sunday evening you will be committing perjury, and it may be provable. More and worse: You may be charged as an accessory to murder. You lent him the keys, he had duplicates made, and he used the duplicates to enter a house to kill a man. You made it possible for him to enter the house without hazard, ensuring that Yeager would be alone, by arranging a nine-o'clock assignation - "

"I didn't arrange it!" Too loud again. "Nine o'clock was the usual time! And I only told Mr. Aiken because - "

"Hold your tongue!" Aiken was on his feet, confronting her. "He tricked you once and he's trying it again. We're going. I'm going, and you're going with me!"

I was up. If she had left her chair I would have moved between them and the door, but she stayed put. She tilted her head back to look up at him, and I have never seen a stonier face. "You're a fool," she said. I have never heard a harder voice. "A bungling old fool. I suspected you had killed him but I didn't want to believe it. If you had had any brains - don't stand there glaring at me!" He was in front of her, and she moved her chair to send her eyes to Wolfe. "Yes, he borrowed my keys. He said he wanted to see the room. He had them two days. And I told him I was going there Sunday night at nine o'clock. I had promised to keep him informed. Informed! I was a fool too." Her voice stayed hard but it was also bitter. "God, what a fool."

Wolfe shook his head. " 'Fool' doesn't do you justice, Miss McGee. Say rather harpy or lamia. I'm not judging you, merely classifying you. Pfui." He turned to Aiken. " So much for what is done; now what to do."

Aiken had returned to the red leather chair. With his hands, fists, on his thighs, and his jaw clamped, he was trying to pretend he wasn't licked, but he knew he was. Knowing what was ahead after Wolfe had dictated the draft for a document, I had got the Marley from the drawer and loaded it and slipped it in my pocket, but now I knew it wouldn't be needed. I sat down.

Wolfe addressed him. "I am in a quandary. The simplest and safest course would be to telephone Mr. Cramer of the police to come and get you. But under the terms of your employment of me on behalf of your corporation I am obliged to make every effort to protect the reputation and interests of the corporation, and to disclose no facts or information that will harm the corporation's repute or prestige unless I am compelled to do so by my legal obligation as a citizen and a licensed private detective. That is verbatim. Of course it isn't possible to suppress the fact that the corporation's president murdered its executive vice-president; that isn't discussible. You are doomed. With the evidence I already possess and the further evidence the police would gather, your position is hopeless."

He opened a drawer and took out a paper. "But it may be feasible to prevent disclosure of the existence of that room and Yeager's connection with it, and that was your expressed primary concern when you came here Tuesday night. I doubt if you care much now, but I do. I want to meet the terms of my engagement as far as possible, and with that in mind I prepared a draft of a document for you to sign, I'll read it to you." He lifted the paper and read:

"I, Benedict Aiken, make and sign this statement because it has been made clear to me by Nero Wolfe that there is no hope of preventing disclosure of my malefaction. But I make it of my own free will and choice, under the coercion not of Nero Wolfe but only of the circumstances. On the night of May 8, 1960, I killed Thomas G. Yeager by shooting him in the head. I transported his body to West 82nd Street, Manhattan, and put it in a hole in the street. There was a tarpaulin in the hole, and to postpone discovery of the body I covered it with the tarpaulin. I killed Thomas G. Yeager because he threatened to supersede me in my office of president of Continental Plastic Products and deprive me of effective control of the affairs of the corporation. Since I was responsible for the development and progress of the corporation for the last ten years, that prospect was intolerable. I feel that Yeager deserved his fate, and I express no regret or remorse for my deed."

Wolfe leaned back. "I included no mention of Maria Perez because that is not essential and it would require a lengthy explanation, and there is no danger of an innocent person being held to account for her death. The police will in time file it, along with other unsolved problems. You may of course suggest changes - for example, if you do feel regret or remorse and wish to say so, I offer no objection."

He held the paper up. "Of course this, written on my typewriter, will not do. Anyhow, such a document should be a holograph to make it indubitably authentic, so I suggest that you write it by hand on a plain sheet of paper, with the date and your signature. Here and now. Also address an envelope by hand to me at this address and put a postage stamp on it. Mr. Panzer will go to a mailbox near your home and mail it. When he phones that it has been mailed you will be free to go your way.'' His head turned. "Is there any chance that it will be delivered here today, Archie?"

"No, sir. Tomorrow morning." He went back to Aiken. "I shall of course communicate with the police without undue delay - say around ten o'clock." He cocked his head. "The advantage to me of this procedure is obvious; I shall be able to collect a fee from the corporation; but the advantage to you is no less clear. Surely it is to be preferred to the only alternative: immediate arrest and constraint, indictment on a murder charge, indeed two murders, disclosure of the existence of that room and of the efforts of yourself and your associates to prevent the disclosure, the ordeal of the trial, the probable conviction. Even if you are not convicted, the years ahead, at your age, are not attractive. I am merely - ''

"Shut up!" Aiken barked. Wolfe shut up. I raised my brows at Aiken. Had he actually, there under the screw, the nerve to think he might tear loose? His face answered me. The bark had come not from nerve, but from nerves, nerves that had had all they could take. I must hand it to him that he didn't wriggle or try to crawl. He didn't even stall, try to get another day or even an hour. He didn't speak; he just put out a hand, palm up. I went and got the document and gave it to him, then got a sheet of typewriter paper and a blank envelope and took them to him. He had a pen; he had taken it from his pocket. His hand was steady as he put the paper on the stand at his elbow, but it shook a little as he put pen to paper. He sat stiff and still for ten seconds, then tried again, and the hand obeyed orders.

Wolfe looked at Julia McGee and said in a voice as hard as hers had been, "You're no longer needed. Go." She started to speak, and he snapped at her, "No. My eyes are inured to ugliness, but you offend them. Get out. Go!"

She got up and went. Aiken, hunched over, writing steadily, his teeth clamped on his lip, probably hadn't heard Wolfe speak and wasn't aware that she had moved. I know I wouldn't have been, in his place.