Микки Спиллейн - The Erection Set

Her laugh tinkled in my ears and she tossed her hair again. “All right. I’ve managed this long, so I guess I can hang on a little while longer.”

“Who is he, Sharon?”

“A very nice guy. We grew up together.”

“Would he appreciate this little picture?”

“I don’t think he’d mind at all. Not really.”

“You don’t know men very well.”

“But I do. I truly do.”

She touched the side of my face, leaned down again and kissed me lightly, the tip of her tongue barely brushing my lips. My arms went around her and I laid her down beside me. Around our heads the grass rustled in the wind. I reached over her and pulled the blanket, over us both. Beside me her body was snuggled into the curve of mine, warm and naked. The moon watched us and another wisp of cloud passing its face made it seem like it winked at me.

Then the early sun woke us both and we looked at each other and kissed. Her hair was tousled and full of sand, but she didn’t care at all. We brushed each other off, got dressed, folded up the blanket and walked back to where we had left the car.

And this time we had company.

The black sedan and the patrol car flanked the limousine and the uniformed cop was peering through the window at the interior. The big beefy guy in the sports shirt and slacks was inspecting the wreckage of the padlock on the gate and neither of them heard us coming.

I said, “You fellows want something?”

The heavy-set guy turned and looked at me, his face set in a nasty scowl. “You do this?”

“That’s right.”

He dropped the lock and started toward me, but I was coming to meet him too and he didn’t like what he saw. The cop edged between us watching me, another hard-looking character with a broken nose and cold, flat eyes that come with too many years on the force. He didn’t like what he saw either.

The cop said, “Who are you, mister?”

“I asked the first question.”

“Don’t get smart, buster. I can handle you real easy.”

I looked at him with that old smile starting to come out. I couldn’t stop it because it always happened that way. “Don’t you wish you could,” I told him.

The two looked at each other, but by the time they looked back to me again I had taken two easy steps in the right direction and I wasn’t bracketed any more. The civilian wiped his hand across his partially bald head and curled his lips again. “You know this is private property?”

“Sure. It always has been. That’s why I want to know what you’re doing prowling around.”

The question came at him too fast and the sneer went back into a puzzled frown. I flipped a cigarette in my mouth and lit it. The cop was changing his original attitude now. Maybe it was because the limousine was bigger than the black sedan and I wasn’t the type he could shake up with a badge and a gun.

“I asked you your name, feller,” he said again.

“Kelly,” I told him. “Dogeron Kelly. My grandfather was Cameron Barrin and this area is still part of his estate.” I blew out a cloud of smoke and flipped the butt at the feet of the beefy guy. I said, “What difference does it make to you what I do here?”

His face was tight with anger, but the limousine was backing me up and he couldn’t quite figure the play. Finally he said, “This place won’t belong to the Barrins much longer, that’s for sure.” He looked at the cop, the cop shrugged, then they both turned and went back to their cars. Both of them kicked up sand getting out of there and the radio antenna on the black sedan snapped off when it cut too far under an underslung limb of an oak tree on the bend.

When they were out of sight Sharon came up and slipped her hand into mine. “You know who that was, Dog?”

“Sure, Cross McMillan. He still has that scar on his skull where I beaned him with a brick.”

“You love trouble, don’t you?”

“Not exactly, honey. It just seems to find me. It’s always been that way.”

We met Leyland Hunter in the coffee shop of the inn, both of us looking a little silly like kids caught playing doctor behind the barn. He noticed, but outside a small smile, said nothing. When we finished eating, he said, “I understand you met another old acquaintance.”

“Cross McMillan. The CIA should have this town’s grapevine.”

“Not really. It just happens that he is negotiating for the Mondo Beach property. His lawyer has to deal with me. Mr. McMillan wants the situation expedited.”

“How does it stand, Counselor?”

“McMillan has first option to buy outside the family. It was put on the market last year by your cousins. It has rarely been used, the buildings are destroyed and pretty well depreciated and they don’t see any reason for keeping it.”

“In other words,” I said, “they need the money.” Hunter nodded. “Frankly, yes. They intend to put it into renovations in the factory.”

“It’s prime property, buddy. Why haven’t they sold for a year?”

“Guess.”

“Waiting for further development of the area,” I said.

“True. There have been rumors of a new highway and some of the bigger land speculators have been probing around.”

“Only there were no highway appropriations and the land boys are holding off.”

“And now Alf and Dennie are really in a bind. What’s the asking price?”

“One quarter of a million dollars.”

“Come on, Counselor, that’s a steal.”

The lawyer looked at me and shrugged. “For McMillan it is. He has the property boxed in right now. If he got that he’d have the nicest chunk of valuable property in the state.”

“How long before he picks up the option?”

“Another week.”

“He the only bidder?”

“Sure,” Hunter told me. “The way his land surrounds Mondo Beach nobody wants to be bothered with development. The really valuable acreage would be his for commercial development and he won’t sell. Right now the beach and the right-of-way belong to the Barrin estate. He wants it all.”

“Let’s screw him, Hunter boy.”

The lawyer’s eyes tightened a moment and he watched me carefully. I grinned and took out my brand-new checkbook, wrote in it and tore out the page. I handed it to him. “This ought to take care of sales, fees, taxes and insurance,” I said.

His forefinger ran up and down the edges of the check, then his eyes ran up to mine again. “Sometimes I can go along with a joke, Dog. Sometimes I can’t. Will you excuse me a moment?”

I nodded and he pushed back his chair and left.

Sharon was looking at me with an expression of puzzled humor, like she had heard a funny story she didn’t quite understand. “Where did he go?”

“To make a phone call,” I told her.

When Hunter came back he slipped into his chair with his mouth set in an odd grimace.

I said, “Well?”

“You astonish me, Mr. Kelly.”

“What happened to our pet names, Counselor?”

“Anyone who hands me a check for over a quarter million is automatically a ‘mister.’ ” He ran his fingers across his head with a nervous chuckle and stared at me again. “You are now sole owner of Mondo Beach, my young friend. You’ll have the papers shortly, the undying hatred of Cross McMillan and the everlasting animosity of the Barrins for having underrated you.”

“You bought the beach?” Sharon asked incredulously.

“He did,” Hunter informed her.

“Just like that?” She snapped her fingers to emphasize the point.

“Just like that,” Hunter repeated.

“But... why?”

I said, “They never let me play Robinson Crusoe before, kitten. Remember?” I squeezed her hand and my fingers played with the ring she wore. I glanced at the green mark on her skin and she pulled her hand away gently. “Counselor...”