Микки Спиллейн - The Erection Set

Then the smile started to ease off.

I said, “Give me one hour on the telephone and I’ll give you the place, date and time.”

She cocked her head and looked at me, not quite sure of herself. “I don’t believe it.”

“Look at my eyes, Mona,” I said.

“I see them.”

“Now you know. It’s a game I can play better than anybody you ever saw. Just nip me and I’ll bite your head off.”

“You really are a bastard, aren’t you?”

“Everybody keeps telling me so,” I said.

“Would you really tell how old I am... If you found out?”

“Just try nipping me, kid.”

“You’re interesting, Dog. How old am I?”

“Wild guess?”

“Sure.”

I let my fingers travel over her face again and felt the tiny lines. “Twenty-one,” I grinned.

“Do it again, but for real this time.”

“Sixty-two,” I said.

“You overaged me by a year, you bastard. If you tell anybody I’ll kill you.”

“If they ask you’re under thirty.”

“Shit. I love you, you crazy creep. Now I’m going and find out all about you, then you’ll be sorry.”

“Come on,” I said, “why work for it. Anything you want to know, I’ll tell you.”

Mona Merriman looked into her near-empty glass, swirled the contents around a few times, then met my eyes. “Have you ever killed anybody?”

I nodded.

“Want to speak about it?”

“Not necessarily.”

“Guess I got me a live one. You know what I’d like to do to you?”

“Naturally. I always have trouble with you young broads. Pick on somebody your own age.”

“Okay, killer. Now one little kiss and let’s go back inside.”

Her lips barely brushed mine, but I could feel the tiger behind them and all the real want that was there. The little pubic touch, the outthrust chest that tried so hard to initiate the nipples into a semiorgasm behind the engineering of elastic and fabric. Twenty years ago she could have been fun.

So I grabbed her arm, kissed her right, just once, and she went all tight at first, then to pieces, and I got that funny little-girl look and said, “No more, Mona. You and I have a generation gap.”

“I’d like to gap you.”

“But you won’t. Now behave.”

“Bastards I have to run into,” she smiled “I’m going to take you apart, Mr. Kelly.”

“It’s been tried before.”

“By experts?”

“By experts,” I said.

“You only think so, Mr. Kelly.” Her hand dropped from my shoulder, reached down and felt me, then went back to my shoulder again. “My, you are impervious.”

“Not really, doll. I just pick my own time and place.”

“Let’s go back. I want some friends of mine to meet you.”

Walt Gentry saw us step across the sill of the French doors into the alcoholic hubbub of the room, waved and excused himself from the couple he had been talking to and ambled over in that loose-limbed stride of his. He gripped my hand and shook it with a grin and a wink toward Mona. “Good to see you again, Dog. It’s been awhile.”

“Same here, Walt.”

“Mona got her hooks into you already?”

She gave his arm a pinch and faked a pout. “You could have prepared me for this beast, Walter. He’s a refreshing change from the usual group.”

“That’s because I’m a commoner,” I said.

“You back to stay?” Walt asked me.

“Could be.”

“Things get a little dull on the Continent?”

I shrugged, trying to remember the last twenty-some years. “What’s excitement one time gets to be pretty routine the next. Maybe I’m like the salmon coming back to spawn where it was born.”

“And die,” Mona added. “They always die after they spawn. Is that why you came back, Dog?”

“Dying isn’t my bag, lady. At least not yet.”

“Ah, an item. You’ve come home to spawn. And who will be your spawnee?”

Walt laughed and patted her shoulder. “Mona, my girl, must you always look at the sexual side of things?”

“It’s the interesting-item side, dear boy. My readers eat it up. We have an extremely provocative and eligible bachelor in our midst, so naturally I’m curious.” She looked at me, still smiling. “You haven’t answered my question, Mr. Kelly.”

“I haven’t given it any thought, either.”

“No lonely heart waiting for your return?”

“Can’t remember any. Most people were glad to see me go.”

Walt waved a miniskirted waitress over with the drink tray, and when we picked up our glasses said, “Don’t let all that Barrin Industries background fool you, Mona. Dog here was born a hundred years too late. There aren’t many places for a real live charger anymore. He was glad to be booted out.”

“And who is getting the boot?” a quiet voice asked.

We all turned and nodded at the weathered face of the heavy-set man behind us. “Mona, Walt...” he said.

“Dick Lagen, Dog Kelly. I don’t think you’ve met.”

I held out my hand and he took it politely for a second. “I’m a regular reader of yours, Mr. Lagen.”

“Ah, at last someone interested in news with an international flavor.”

“That’s more than he said of my literary gems,” Mona told him.

Lagen smiled and ran a forefinger across his hairline moustache. “Mona, dear, we are hardly competitors. It is he with a bent for finance that is interested in the news I report. Is that not true, Mr. Kelly?”

There was an odd note to his tone and his eyes were watching me carefully. “Pursuit of the buck is a necessary evil. I’m always glad to break even,” I said.

“I understand you’ve come back to claim an inheritance.”

I let out a laugh. “Ten big G’s. How did you know about that?”

Dick Lagen tasted his drink, made a satisfied pat at his mouth and said, “My earliest researches were made during the height of the Barrin regime. You’d be surprised how much I know about your family fortunes.”

“Well, as long as I get my ten grand, I’m happy. I never was much of a family man.”

“So I understand. However, ten thousand dollars isn’t much of a nest egg these days. Plan to invest it?”

“Hell, no,” I told him. “I plan to blow it. Money is no good unless you convert it into something useful or pleasurable, anyway.”

“That’s a rich man’s attitude, Mr. Kelly.” That odd note was back in his voice again.

“You’d be surprised how rich a guy with ten grand can be.” I grinned at him and he smiled back.

“By the way, Mr. Kelly. Your name is Dogeron... D-O-G-E-R-O-N,” he spelled it, “isn’t it?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Unusual.”

“Old-fashioned. Not many of us left.”

“True. I’ve heard it mentioned several times however. Istanbul, Paris... you have been there, haven’t you?”

“Sure,” I agreed.

“Could it possibly be that it was the same Dogeron?”

Mona gave us both a quick, sharp glance. “Now see here, Dick, if you have something about my friend, don’t go wasting it in your portentous columns...”

I stopped her with a laugh. “If Mr. Lagen ran across me in those places you could use the items, Mona. I’m a grade-A student of those belly dances and cancan joints. You hit those places, Mr. Lagen, and it’s a real good chance my name came up. I have a reputation of sorts too. You like the fleshpots?”

His hand touched the moustache again to cover up the flesh on his face. Mona laughed and pulled at his sleeve. “Why, Dick, you old roué, you. And here I thought you were always the proper one. Dog, dear, you’re a darling. At last I have something to hold over his head.”

Lagen let out his suppressed laugh and made a faint grimace of embarrassment. “You have caught me red-handed, Mr Kelly. Now my secret is out. I’m a rather shy voyeur. My opportunities to indulge myself are rare and discreet.”