The Erection Set (31 page)

“Mr. Kelly ...”

“They were the consignees. They're looking hard too. There's no way that stuff can get to me, but all that flap is making me one special kind of a target I don't like, and this thing gets ripped apart in a hurry or this here dog is going to lay somebody out, you understand?”

“I understand.”

“Okay, then pass the word. I'm out. The thing is sour. I'm getting bugged and when I get bugged somebody gets hurt and that somebody is plural. Does this message get through or not?”

“Yes ... I believe I understand.”

I hung up the phone and walked back to the bar where Tod was polishing the mahogany top to a glossy finish, a stalling operation that gave him an excuse for not having to talk. He barely gave me a glance, but I picked up my glass and moved down to where he was so busy rubbing and pulled a stool up with my foot.

“What's the beef, Tod?”

“No beef,” he muttered.

“Think I'm upsetting the applecart?”

He shrugged and spilled some more oily liquid on the aged wood, rubbing it in with the rag. He finally stopped, cranking his face up to mine with worried lines creasing his forehead. “Cross is going to find out, kid.”

“Who'll tell him?”

“Things don't get hidden so easily around here.”

“Linton's been a burial ground of big secrets for a long time, Tod.”

“Not anymore.”

“I told you,” I said, “it was just a friendly visit.”

Tod scowled, trying hard to believe me. “So why bother?”

“You got to keep looking for the leverage, Tod.”

He nodded as if he understood, then capped the can of polish and put it under the bar. I finished my beer while he washed his hands and when he walked back again he held a folded sheet of notepaper and handed it to me. “Stanley Cramer said to give this to you.”

The note was brief, a simple “Stop by and see me,” signed with his initials.

“He say what this was about?” I asked him.

“Nope. Said to bring the little lady too.”

I rolled the note up and dropped it in the ashtray. “She's in the city.”

“ 'S okay. Stan's outa town too. Said he'll be back in a few days. Looking up a couple of his old buddies, I think. The kid's father used to work with him.” He looked up for confirmation.

“A long time ago.”

“Funny bunch, those old-timers. Good company men. Be nice if things work out around here.”

“They will, Tod.” I said. I picked up my hat and dropped my change in my pocket. “Incidentally, did Sharon Cass ever go with anybody from around here?”

Once again I got that quizzical look and his mouth thinned out. “Don't all girls?”

“She's been in New York quite awhile.”

“First she lived here.”

“The other day you said you heard something.”

His mouth tightened again. “She's engaged.”

“So she told me.”

“You figuring to break up the engagement?”

“Maybe I don't want that to happen.”

Tod stood there leaning on the bar. After a moment he nodded sagely. “You're a big boy now, kiddo. You look like you've been takin' care of a lot of problems and a lot of answers up till now, so you just keep right on doin' that and you can never blame anybody else for giving you bad advice.”

My face cracked into a grin. “Okay, philosopher.” I put on my hat.

“Just don't hurt her,” he added.

“Hell, she's still a virgin.”

“That's what I hear,” he said. He wasn't grim anymore. He reminded me of a schoolteacher I once had.

 

Alfred and Dennison weren't good listeners. Their guts had been churning ever since I had arrived and now they sat tight-lipped with untasted drinks while I told them what they were going to do.

The funny part was that I didn't even have to lay it all on the line. Their three sisters had picked up the pace the minute I made the statement and were bubbling over with enthusiasm about having a motion picture made in Linton with the Barrin complex an integral part of the background. There was absolutely no doubt about which way they wanted things to go and from the indirect looks Al and Dennie were exchanging the message was loud and clear. Either they'd have to indulge their sisters' whims or find themselves possibly bucked in laying their hands on the Barrin stocks they thought the girls still owned. Somebody had clued Lucella in and she played the game with school-girl anticipation, except that with her the humor of the situation seemed more real. Ever since she had divorced Fred Simon she had been put down in the family and now she was finally one up on them, not having been made to pull a nudie in her own front room.

But the only one really enjoying the situation was Pam's husband. Marvin Gates had to hide his laughter behind a constantly uptilted Martini glass and when it got too much for him he excused himself to get a cigar.

I wondered how he hao found out.

My cousins had the escape harch opened for them when I dropped in the bit about the public-spirit angle. There were others who would benefit with movie company pay-checks and the publicity would smother any adverse criticism the unions might give the press.

But they couldn't give a quick affirmative. There had to be some show of strength and after a forty-minute private conference they came back to the library and agreed that as long as nothing interfered with factory operation they didn't see why it couldn't be done.

Very grandiosely Alfred managed to add, “It's nice to see you taking an interest, Dogeron.”

“Think nothing of it,” I said.

“Although it has little or nothing to do with our previous situation.”

“None at all,” I stated. I tasted my drink and put it down again. I never did like Martinis.

“You might be interested to know I have uncovered certain information about your past,” he continued.

“Oh?”

“There was a woman of nobility in Europe..

“There were two,” I interrupted calmly, “although you'd hardly get them to admit to it.”

“Certain evidence is in existence.”

“I heard about those photos. I also heard that the guy who took them is dead. A hunting accident with the husband of the countess he tried to shake down. The husband insists the woman in the photo is not his wife.”

Alfred's mouth had the upturned comers of a rattlesnake smile. “There are other things.”

“Perseverance. That's what I like about you, Alfie boy.” I picked the olive out of the Martini, ate it and got up.

“You'll be hearing about the movie details in a day or so. Should be fun.”

Nobody bothered to say good-bye when I left. Only Marvin Gates rose to walk me out. Somehow he still looked like one of those old-time directors, his eyes a little bleary now, his walk unsteady.

Harvey, the butler, met us in the foyer and held out my coat and hat, then retreated to the pantry. Marvin gave me a friendly pat on the shoulder and let the big smile he had suppressed all evening come through. “Good show, old man. It's a great thing to see them on the run. The ladies have changed considerably since your last visit.”

“Who put you wise, buddy?”

One eye crinkled in a wink. “We drinkers exchange confidences out of sheer boredom. Seems like Lucella awoke to hear voices and came downstairs to catch the play. Needless to say, she hurried back up again at the final curtain and seemed to find it all very amusing. As a matter of fact, I'm sorry I missed it. That night I was ... ah, engaged myself. Nothing quite as exciting as your scene though.”

“Now everybody's got a secret,” I said.

“Indeed we have. A lovely one to be let out at the proper moment.”

“When will that be?”

“After it has been savored to the last. Ah, yes. I have the distinct impression that everybody is sitting on a time bomb.”

“Enjoy yourself,” I told him.

“Totally,” he said.

I heard the cough from the bushes just as I reached the car and spun, dropping to the ground on one knee with the .45 in my hand. The voice had a note of sudden fear when it said, “It's me, sir. Harvey.”

“What a way to get yourself killed,” I told him.

He came out of the shrubbery while I stuck the gun back, a little shaken by what he had seen. “I'm sorry sir. I didn't mean ... but I thought you should know.”

“What is it?”

“Have you anybody waiting for you, sir?”

“No. Why?”

“A car has circled the grounds several times. Right now it is parked about fifty yards south of the main gate drawn back into the trees. The occupant is across the road watching the house.”

“How'd you spot him?”

“I didn't, sir. It was my nephew.” He fidgeted a moment, then: “Well, his family is rather impoverished. Every week I manage to see that he gets a supply of groceries to take home.”

“Toting privileges?”

“Something like that, sir, if you don't mind.”

“No sweat.”

“He saw the car and thinking it was the police, waited to see what was happening. The person never left so he came in the old way.”

“Why bother telling me about it?”

I saw his eyes drop to where I had put the gun. “I'm rather glad I did now, sir.”

“The old way out still big enough to get a car through?”

“Possibly. It is pretty well overgrown but the gardener takes the refuse out through there with the small tractor.”

“Okay, Harvey. And thanks.”

“Sir ... will there be any trouble?”

“Not now,” I said.

 

Sergeant Tobano had glowered through two cups of coffee, listening to me, saying nothing, but never taking his eyes from mine. Outside the all night restaurant the sun was filtering through the heavy air, pressuring the light onto the city. The couple with the jangling hangovers had left and two hippie types took their seats, but not before the counterman had scooped up the change they had left as a tip.

“We got a rumble on the Guido brothers,” Tobano told me.

“You'll be getting more.”

“What are you getting out of this?”

“Out is
what
I'm getting. Nobody seems to believe me.”

“Can't blame 'em, with your history. The packages on you are pretty thick.”

“People must like to speculate.”

“Crap.”

“Look, I'm giving you what information I have. What else do you want?”

Those searching eyes beaded up again. “I don't know. When I get an informer like you I want to check it out. All-the way.”

“Then you damn well better hurry.”

“Kelly,” he said deliberately, “time is funny. It has a way of taking care of things all by itself. Sometimes we can help it along and sometimes all we have to do is wait.”

“Too much time gets people knocked off.”

“Isn't it a little late to be worried about that?”

I dunked the end of my doughnut, washed it down with the rest of my coffee and lit up a cigarette. “I'm not worried about myself.”

“Innocent bystanders?”

“A few.”

“I don't like you, Kelly. I used to hate you guys, but I'm too old to be bothered hating anymore. Now I just don't like. Catch?”

“Loud and clear, Sergeant.”

“In or out, you're nothing but trouble. Any information you have is only more trouble. You got 3 little hold with the executive suite and the men don't want you tipped, but tipped you'll get yet. There's even a precedent for it ... a guy they called Lucky.”

“Luciano?”

“The same. Drags a stretch in the pen and because he has pull in the old country and makes it look like he helps out the country in the Italian campaign during the war, he gets paroled.”

“He was deported.”

“Sure, and right back into the narcotic traffic again from his old backyard.”

“He died pretty late in life, Sergeant.”

“It would have been better if he'd died at birth.”

“There's always somebody else,” I said.

“Exactly what I mean. There's always somebody else.”

“Didn't mean to bug you, kid.”

“You don't. It'll just be a pleasure to see you get your lumps.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“Don't mention it.”

 

Lee and Rose were tired lumps under a tangled heap of bedclothes, both of them blubbering soft snores of applause. I went into the other room, packed my clothes in my old bag, showered and shaved, then made a sandwich. I was all set to leave when I turned around and saw Lee standing in the doorway with scratch marks all over his chest and wearing that same silly pair of shorts with the LOVE button pinned to them.

“Where the hell have you been?”

“Around. Go back to bed,” I said.

“Sure. Just like that.” He eyed my bags and frowned. “Where you going?”

“Clearing out, buddy.”

“You wait until the shit hits the fan, then you blow. Nice.”

“What're you talking about?”

“Read the papers.”

I knotted my tie and pulled my jacket over the gun in my belt. “Let's hear it, Lee.”

“I was with Dick Lagen last night.”

“So?”

“Money and the power of the press can move mountains.”

“Bulldozers are quicker.”

“You're tagged, Dog. He came across something in Europe and now the walls are going to tumble down. He wouldn't say what it was and now he's just lying back waiting for something else to come in and the boom gets lowered.”