Роберт Беллем - Pulp Frictions

‘Hello, Dune. Same as you’re drinking.’

Almost languidly, Dune made a motion with his hand. The waiter nodded and left. The inspector settled himself in his chair with a sigh. He was a big man, heavy without being given to fat. Only his high shoes proclaimed him for what he was. When he looked at Chester Duncan he grimaced inwardly, envying him his poise and manner, yet not willing to trade him for anything.

Here , he thought smugly, is a man who should have everything yet has nothing. True, he has money and position, but the finest of all things, a family life, was denied him. And with a brood of five in all stages of growth at home, the inspector felt that he had achieved his purpose in life.

The drinks came and the inspector took his, sipping it gratefully. When he put it down he said, ‘I came to thank you for that, er... tip. You know, that was the first time I’ve ever played the market.’

‘Glad to do it,’ Duncan said. His hands played with the glass, rolling it around in his palms. His eyebrows shot up suddenly, as though he was amused at something. ‘I suppose you heard all the ugly rumours.’

A flush reddened the inspector’s face. ‘In an offhand way, yes. Some of them were downright ugly.’ He sipped his drink and tapped a cigarette on the side of the table. ‘You know,’ he said, ‘if Walter Harrison’s death hadn’t been so definitely a suicide, you might be standing an investigation right now.’

Duncan smiled slowly. ‘Come now, Inspector. The market didn’t budge until after his death, you know.’

‘True enough. But rumour has it that you engineered it in some manner.’ He paused long enough to study Duncan’s face. ‘Tell me, did you?’

‘Why should I incriminate myself?’

‘It’s over and done with. Harrison leaped to his death from the window of a hotel room. The door was locked and there was no possible way anyone could have gotten in that room to give him a push. No, we’re quite satisfied it was suicide and everybody that ever came in contact with Harrison agrees that he did the world a favour when he died. However, there’s still some speculation about you having a hand in things.’

‘Tell me, Inspector, do you really think I had the courage or the brains to oppose a man like Harrison, and force him to kill himself?’ The inspector frowned, then nodded. ‘As a matter of fact, yes. You did profit by his death.’

‘So did you,’ Duncan laughed.

‘Ummmm.’

‘Though it’s nothing to be ashamed about,’ Duncan added. ‘When Harrison died the financial world naturally expected that the stocks he financed were no good and tried to unload. It so happened that I was one of the few who knew they were as good as gold and bought while I could. And, of course, I passed the word on to my friends. Somebody had might as well profit by the death of a rat.’

Through the haze of the smoke Inspector Early saw his face tighten. He scowled again, leaning forward in his chair. ‘Duncan, we’ve been friends quite a while. I’m just cop enough to be curious and I’m thinking that our Harrison was cursing you before he died.’

Duncan twirled his glass around. ‘I’ve no doubt of it,’ he said. His eyes met the inspector’s. ‘Would you really like to hear about it?’

‘Not if it means your confessing to murder. If that has to happen I’d much rather you spoke directly to the DA.’

‘Oh, it’s nothing like that at all. No, not a bit, Inspector. No matter how hard they tried, they couldn’t do a thing that would impair either my honour or my reputation. You see, Walter Harrison went to his death through his own greediness.’

The inspector settled back in his chair. The waiter came with drinks to replace the empties and the two men toasted each other silently.

‘Some of this you probably know already, Inspector,’ Duncan said...

‘Nevertheless, I’ll start at the beginning and tell you everything that happened. Walter and I met in law school. We were both young and not too studious. We had one thing in common and only one. Both of us were the products of wealthy parents who tried their best to spoil their children. Since we were the only ones who could afford certain... er... pleasures, we naturally gravitated to each other, though when I think back, even at that time there was little true friendship involved.

It so happened that I had a flak for my studies whereas Walter didn’t give a damn. At examination time, I had to carry him. It seemed like a big joke at the time, but actually I was doing all the work while he was having his fling around town. Nor was I the only one he imposed upon in such a way. Many students, impressed with having his friendship, gladly took over his papers. Walter could charm the devil himself if he had to.

And quite often he had to. Many’s the time he talked his way out of spending a weekend in jail for some minor offence — and I’ve even seen him twist the dean around his little finger, so to speak. Oh, but I remained his loyal friend. I shared everything I had with him, including my women, and even thought it amusing when I went out on a date and met him, only to have him take my girl home.

In the last year of school the crash came. It meant little to me because my father had seen it coming and got out with his fortune increased. Walter’s father tried to stick it out and went under. He was one of the ones who killed himself that day.

Walter was quite stricken, of course. He was in a blue funk and got stinking drunk. We had quite a talk and he was for quitting school at once, but I talked him into accepting the money from me and graduating. Come to think of it, he never did pay me back that money. However, it really doesn’t matter.

After we left school I went into business with my father and took over the firm when he died. It was that same month that Walter showed up. He stopped in for a visit and wound up with a position, though at no time did he deceive me as to the real intent of his visit. He got what he came after and in a way it was a good thing for me. Walter was a shrewd businessman.

His rise in the financial world was slightly less than meteoric. He was much too astute to remain in anyone’s employ for long, and with everybody talking about Harrison, the Boy Wonder of Wall Street, in every other breath, it was inevitable that he open up his own office. In a sense, we became competitors after that, but always friends.

Pardon me, Inspector, let’s say that I was his friend; he never was mine. His ruthlessness was appalling at times, but even then he managed to charm his victims into accepting their lot with a smile. I for one know that he managed the market to make himself a cool million on a deal that left me gasping. More than once he almost cut the bottom out of my business, yet he was always in with a grin and a big hello the next day as if it had been only a tennis match he had won.

If you’ve followed his rise then you’re familiar with the social side of his life. Walter cut quite a swath for himself. Twice, he was almost killed by irate husbands, and if he had been, no jury on earth would have convicted his murderer. There was the time a young girl killed herself rather than let her parents know that she had been having an affair with Walter and had been trapped. He was very generous about it. He offered her money to travel, her choice of doctors and anything she wanted — except his name for her child. No, he wasn’t ready to give his name away then. That came a few weeks later.

I was engaged to be married at the time. Adrianne was a girl I had loved from the moment I saw her and there aren’t words enough to tell how happy I was when she said she’d marry me. We spent most of our waking hours poring over plans for the future. We even selected a site for our house out on the island and began construction. We were timing the wedding to coincide with the completion of the house and if ever I was a man living in a dream world, it was then. My happiness was complete, as was Adrianne’s, or so I thought. Fortune seemed to favour me with more than one smile at the time. For some reason my own career took a sudden spurt and whatever I touched turned to gold, and in no time the Street had taken to following me rather than Harrison. Without realising it, I turned several deals that had him on his knees, though I doubt if many ever realised it. Walter would never give up the amazing front he affected.’