Too Many Clients Read Online Free PDF Page B

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 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?”
    “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 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