Микки Спиллейн - The Erection Set

“What did he get?”

“It was that rented heap of yours, all right. Somebody used one of the new plastics with a heat-sensitized detonator wired to the exhaust. Easy to slap on and takes about five seconds to activate. A real pro job. I don’t think the local cops even know how it happened yet. Sure tore that kid all to hell. What was the bit there?”

“He was trying to steal the car. I had left the keys in it.”

Hobis shrugged and lit the stub of a cigar he took out of his pocket. “Scratch one potential con. Who did it?”

“Arnold Bell.”

He nodded without looking up until he had the butt lit, then took a couple of deep drags on it. “Old Bell’s diversifying. He used to specialize in that little .22 of his. Figure how he ran you down?”

“The city isn’t all that big,” I said.

“Uh-huh. But it still makes it a big job. You think he’s working alone?”

“He didn’t start off that way.”

“Maybe he rang in some locals.”

“Not Arnold Bell. The solo speed is the way he likes it. Now the big pot is all his if he makes the hit.”

“As long as he was paid in advance,” Hobis said.

I cut around the corner and headed back toward the factory again. Hobis’s tone of voice had sounded a little strange and I looked at him, the question in my eyes.

Hobis said, “I called New York this morning. The whole European scene blew wide apart.”

My hands went tight around the steering wheel. “How?”

“Some of Le Fleur’s boys went after The Turk and threw a couple of slugs in his belly. The Turk thought he was dying and blew the whistle on the big man. The fuzz moved in and nailed all his records and put enough heat on some of the lower echelon so that they started talking too.” He took another drag on the cigar and tossed the butt out the side window. “Would have made quite a package, only while he was being held in custody a twenty-year-old cousin of a guy Le Fleur had eliminated walked in with press credentials and popped his eyes out with a Luger. When the boiler blows, she really blows fast, doesn’t she?”

“That gets the Guido brothers off the hook then.”

“Kiddo,” Hobis told me, “you’ve been away much too long. Over there they’d just call it quits and start over again when the storm dies down, but here you pay for mistakes or errors in judgment. It teaches others a lesson about being careful when they’re using mob money to finance an operation.” He let out a grunt that passed for a laugh and added,

“You got something to say, haven’t you?”

So I told him about the casket.

“To each his own,” he said when I finished. “Where do we go from here?”

“Nothing changes. Just keep the plant covered.”

“Your dough, buddy. Lousy action, but good pay.”

I let him out beside the car he was working from, pulled away behind a pair of trucks making sure nobody was behind me and called Leyland Hunter from a gas station on the outskirts of town.

It was Saturday morning and I was to meet with the family at noon. Two hours later there was a special meeting of the new board of directors in the main office of the building and I was expected to be in attendance.

They should have had flowers. There should have been a funeral director present ushering in the guests with hushed voice and a small bow. The butler tried his best, but the enigmatic smile on his face belied the true nature of the gathering. Something in his eyes ran a full sweep over me like a radar scanning beacon without ever leaving my face and I knew he had all the answers at his fingertips and was going to enjoy the moment of truth when all the chips were down. He said a pleasant good afternoon to Hunter and me, took our coats and told us the others were waiting in the library.

I looked at the pixie lawyer and showed the way with my hand. “After you, Counselor. I prefer to make a dramatic entrance.”

He turned that courtroom stare on me again. “One day your entrance and exit will be simultaneous.”

“Like getting into a car with a hot charge on it?”

“An excellent example. The day is coming closer all the time.”

“When it gets here, we’ll worry about it.”

He nodded, his face bland. “This could be the day, my obstreperous friend. I have heard a certain nasty rumor.”

“All rumors are nasty.”

“Not like this one.”

“Care to tell me about it?”

“I’m not given to promulgating rumors. If this one is true, you’ll know about it soon enough.”

“Fine. Not... shall we?” I nodded toward the library and followed him up to the big doors.

They were all there. The scene wasn’t much different from the first time, with one exception. Nobody was sitting behind the big desk now. They were all grouped for mutual protection at the far end of the room, drinks in hand, faked joviality in their lowered voices, hostility seeping through every pore, but with something hidden in their demeanor that meant they had a time bomb ready to hand me and if ever the picture of the old man on the wall was contemplating the gathering with absolute pleasure, it was this moment. The painted eyes followed me with a challenging dare that said I might jump the trap if I had been a real Barrin, but bastards didn’t have a chance at all. The try had been good, but that’s all it was... a try... and you don’t try to leap the chasm; they make it or die at the bottom.

Nobody heard me when I said, “Fuck you, old man,” then went over and sat on the edge of the desk while Hunter took his place behind it.

So far nobody had even said hello.

The lawyer didn’t have to tell them. Dennie and Alfred simply nodded when Hunter took out the stock certificates and handed them to me, but the way they watched me was the same way the picture watched me and when Hunter said, “Ten thousand dollars’ worth of nothing, Dog. All yours.”

“It would have been the same had I not come back.”

“Are you satisfied?”

I pushed the pretty green sheets back to him. “Hang on to them for me. And yes, I’m satisfied.” I lit a cigarette and looked at my cousins who seemed to be enjoying their drinks. The only one who wasn’t all the way happy was Marvin Gates and he seemed to be ashamed of himself for some reason or another. The booze had already taken hold and, whatever his problem was, it was disappearing in an alcoholic blur.

Alfred settled himself back into the big wing chair and made a mock toast at me with his glass. “At least we still have Grand Sita, Dog. Paid for now, of course. No outstanding mortgages, no debts. All free and clear with a standing offer to buy for quite a few cash millions of dollars.”

“Good for you. I never wanted this place anyway.”

“Ah, but the solvency of having it is an enjoyable experience.”

“Fine.”

“Our position here dictates the value of all the other properties. We can make Mondo Beach either worthless or of immense value. Of course, we have no intention of enhancing your section. Eventually it will erode into sand, grass and rubbish.”

“Unless Barrin Industries takes a sudden turn for the better.”

“And there’s little chance of that, is there?” Dennie asked smugly.

“One never knows,” I told him.

I heard Hunter’s finger tap the desk for my attention. “They’re well aware of the situation. Cross McMillan has bought a small piece of the estate here for an exorbitant price. Ergo, they are now free and clear and well situated for the years to come.”

“Only until prices and taxes rise, Counselor.”

“The same holds true for you.”

“I didn’t think they’d be that shrewd. What’s the gimmick?”

Dennie came out of his chair sideways. He still reminded me of a snake slithering from its hole and if he had had a forked tongue he would have stuck it out and hissed. His smile was deadly as hell and he was tasting his big moment of satisfaction as he walked over to the desk and tossed a pair of black and white two-by-two photos in my lap.