Too Many Clients

"Certainly. You're going to show me that room. The car's waiting." "I'm afraid this isn't a good time, Mrs. Yeager. After what has happened. Sit down and I'll tell you why." "You can tell me in the car. You said yesterday you'd take me as soon as you got a chance." "I know. I tried to get you on the phone at ten 172 Rex Stout o'clock last evening but couldn't. You weren't at home?" "Certainly I was. My son and daughter were here, and some friends." She moved. "Come on." "Damn the torpedoes!" I told her back. She whirled. For a lump she whirled well. "What did you say?" "I said damn the torpedoes. That may be your attitude, but it's not Mr. Wolfe's or mine. I came to tell you why we can't go there now. Since the janitor of that house had a daughter, and last night--" "I know about that. I told you on the phone. She was murdered." "Right. And it seems likely that she was murdered by the person who murdered your husband. Incidentally, you may remember that Mr. Wolfe suggested the possibility that you killed your husband, so he thinks it's also possible that you killed Maria Perez. That's why I asked if you were at home last evening. Were you here with your son and daughter and friends all evening? Up to midnight?"