Ed McBain: King's Ransom

“Your beloved?” Liz said. “He’s only making a phone call. I stopped him, and he apologized for ignoring me, and said he had an important call to make.”

“Pete, are you sure he’s not in trouble? That look on his face…”

“Don’t you know that look?” Liz said. “My God, Harold wears it all the time. It simply means he’s about to murder someone.”

“Murder?”

“Certainly.”

Diane turned sharply to Cameron. “Pete, what happened down here?”

Cameron shrugged. “Nothing. They offered Doug a deal, and he spit in their collective eye.”

“My Harold would have kicked them out of the house,” Liz said.

“That’s just what Doug did.”

“Then everything’s under control. Prepare for a homicide, Diane.”

“I’m always prepared for one,” Diane said. A troubled look had come into her green eyes. She turned away from Liz and Cameron and walked to the bar. “But they seem to be getting more and more frequent.”

“Well, Diane,” Cameron said, “that’s business. Dog eat dog.”

“Anyway, murder can be fun,” Liz put in. “Lay back and enjoy it, that’s my motto.” She smiled archly at Cameron, who immediately returned the smile.

If there seemed to be slightly more than ultrasophisticated social palaver between Cameron and Liz, if indeed they seemed to have shared more than a passing acquaintanceship, the impression was probably nurtured by the fact that they had, over the years, and discreetly, to be sure, enjoyed that boat ride up extramarital waters. For whereas Liz Bellew was devoted to her husband Harold, and whereas Pete Cameron was a junior executive whose every waking moment was occupied with thoughts of the company, they had each managed to find the time to be mutually attracted, to arrange a first tentative meeting, and then to fall into a pattern of assignations which bordered on bacchanals.

Liz Bellew was suffering from a disease known to many thirty-five-year-old women and labeled by medical science “itchiness.” It was all well and good to be married to a successful tycoon, and it was marvelous to live in Smoke Rise with an upstairs maid, a downstairs maid and a chauffeur, and it was delightful to be able to wear mink interchangeably with ermine—but when something like Pete Cameron strolled by, the temptation to add another acquisition to the Bellew holdings was not easily put aside. Nor was Liz a person who really struggled too valiantly against the siren calls of everyday living. Lay back and enjoy it, that was her motto. And she’d been doing just that for as long as she could remember. Happily, Pete Cameron satisfied her about as well as any mere thing of flesh and blood could satisfy her, and—thanks to him—she was saved the ugliness of becoming a real wanton. In any case, their public face, a mask they had both agreed to wear, consisted of a light sex play designed to evoke in the viewer and listener the feeling that there could not possibly be any fire where there was so much obvious smoke.

Diane poured herself a drink and turned to face Cameron. “Is Doug planning to slit another throat?” she asked.

“Yes, I think so.”

“I thought after what he did to Robinson, he might just possibly…”

“Robinson?” Liz said. “Oh, yes, that quaint little man. He played lousy bridge. Doug’s better off without him.”

‘I’m better off without whom?” King asked from the staircase, and then he came down the steps exuberantly and walked directly to Diane where she stood near the bar.

“Did you make your call, tycoon?” Liz asked.

“The lines are tied up,” King answered. He kissed his wife lightly, backed away from her with a small take, and studied the silver streak in her hair. “Honey,” he said, “you’ve got egg in your hair.”

“Sometimes I wonder why we bother,” Liz said sourly.

“Don’t you like it, Doug?” Diane asked.

King weighed his answer carefully. Then he said, “It looks kind of cute.”

“Holy God, it looks kind of cute!” Liz mimicked. “The last time I heard that was at a senior tea. From a football player named Leo Raskin. Do you remember him, Diane?”

“No. I didn’t know many football players.”

“I wore a blouse cut down to—” Liz paused and then indicated a spot somewhere close to her abdomen—“well, at least here! I was practically naked, believe me, it’s a wonder I wasn’t expelled from college. I asked Leo for his opinion, and he said, ‘It looks kind of cute.’ “

“What’s wrong with that?” King asked.

“It looks kind of cute?” Liz said. “Hell even a football player should be able to count!” She glanced quickly at her watch. “I’m getting out of here. I promised my tycoon I’d be back by four.”

“You’re late already,” Cameron said. “Have one for the road.”

“I really shouldn’t,” Liz said, and she smiled at him archly.

“ Two lemon peels?”

“The memory of that boy. He knows I can’t resist his cocktails.”

Her eyes locked with Cameron’s. Neither Diane nor King paid the slightest bit of attention to all this obvious smoke. Happily, the telephone rang, and Diane picked it up.

“Hello?” she said.

“Ready on your call to Boston now,” the operator said.

“Oh, thank you. Just a moment, please.” She handed the phone to King. “Were you calling Boston, Doug?”

“Yes,” he said, taking the receiver.

Cameron looked up from the Martinis he was mixing. “Boston?”

“Hello?” King said into the phone.

“We’re ready with your Boston call now, sir. One moment, please.” There was a long pause, and then the operator said, “Here’s your party, sir.”

“Hello?” a voice asked. “Hello?”

“Is that you, Hanley?” King asked.

“Yes, Doug, how are you?”

“Fine. How’s it going up there?”

“Just about the way we expected, Doug.”

“Well, look, we’ve got to sew this thing up fast.”

“How fast?”

“Today,” King said.

“Why? Something wrong?”

“I just had the undertakers in here for a showdown,” King said, “and they’re not going to sit still for very long. What’s with our man anyway?”

“He wants to hang on to five per cent, Doug.”

“What? What the hell for?”

“Well, he feels—” Hanley started.

“Never mind, I’m not interested. That five per cent is as important to me as the rest of it, so get it. Just get it, Hanley!”

“Well, I’m trying my best, Doug, but how can I…?”

“I don’t give a damn how you do it, just do it! Go back to him, cry on his shoulder, hold his hand, go to bed with him, get what we want!”

“Well, it may take a little time,” Hanley said.

“How much time?”

“Well… actually, I don’t know. I suppose I can go over to see him right now.”

“Then go ahead. And call me back as soon as you’ve seen him. I’ll be waiting. And listen, Hanley, I’ll assume you’re going to deliver and I’ll act accordingly. So don’t foul me up. Do you understand?”

“Well, I’ll try.”

“Don’t just try, Hanley. Succeed. I’ll be waiting for your call.” He hung up and turned to Cameron. “Pete, you’re going to Boston.”

“I am?” Cameron said. He handed the Martini to Liz.

“How lucky you are!” she said. “I just adore Scollay Square.”

“You’re going to Boston with a big fat check,” King said, “and you’re going to deliver that check to Hanley, and we’re going to close the biggest damn deal I’ve ever made in my life!”

“If your lawyer’s in on it, it must be big,” Cameron said. “What’s it all about, Doug?”