Too Many Clients

"That was wise. Satisfactory. Mrs. Yeager told me of your impromptu explanation to Mr. Stebbins. She was impressed. Satisfactory." Two satisfactories in one speech was a record. "Oh," I said, "just my usual discretion and sagacity. It was either that or shoot him." I took the mail to him. "Anything on the program?" "No. We are suspended." He pushed the buzzer button, one long and one short, for beer, and got at the mail. In a moment Fritz came with a bottle and a glass. I sat and yawned, and got my notebook out. There would be letters. The phone rang. It was Lon Cohen, wanting to know if I had spent a pleasant evening at the DA's office and how had I got bail in the middle of the night. I told him bail wasn't permitted on a murder one charge; I had jumped 186 Rex Stout out a window and was now a fugitive. When I hung up Wolfe was ready to dictate, but as I picked up my notebook and swiveled, the phone rang again. It was Saul Panzer. He wanted Wolfe. Wolfe didn't give me the off signal, so I stayed on. "Good morning, Saul." "Good morning, sir. I've got it. Tight." "Indeed?" "Yes, sir. A little place on Seventy-seventh Street near First Avenue. Three-sixty-two East Seventy-seventh Street. His name is Arthur Wenger." Saul spelled it. "He picked him from the photograph and he's positive. He's not sure of the day, but it was last week, either Tuesday or Wednesday, in the morning. I'm in a booth around the corner." "Satisfactory. I want him here as soon as possible."