The Erection Set

“Uh-huh. Okay, Barrin Industries is still very much blue chip unless some shrewdie from SEC really digs into it. They’re turning out products with the help of government contracts and old-line investors who thought your grandfather was the greatest guy alive. Their operation is marginal as hell. Equipment is out of date, standing up only because the old man insisted on the best original installations. Two of the original employees got Barrin off the hook by developing a by-product when pollution control went in and the by-product was worth more than the product itself. Your cousins conned them out of their rights just when both those men came up with something really tremendous and they got so damned pissed off they retired, died within the year and took their big secret with them.”

“What was it?”

“If I told you, you’d never believe me.”

“Try me.”

“Okay, an antigravity device.”

“Come on, Al, knock off the crap.”

“I told you.” He leaned back in his chair, smiling. “I saw it, Dog. A little steel-looking marble that would stay anywhere you put it. On the ground, ten feet up ... anywhere. Throw it, it would keep on going. Rest it, the ball stayed there.”

“Really?”

“Damn, you’re an emotionless slob. You know what that could mean?”

“Sure I do.”

“Then say something.”

“I’m glad they didn’t let anybody take it away from them.”

“It was a billion-dollar invention, Dog.”

“Shit. The government would have confiscated it. Or somebody would have squeezed them for it. They were smarter doing what they did.”

“You don’t really believe me about the gimmick, do you?”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re not excited.”

“Al, I got enough trouble with gravity without worrying about the anti garbage.” I felt a tug at the corners of-my mouth. “Damn interesting idea, though. You could take a broad and ...”

“There you go again!”

“So get back to Barrin Industries,” I said.

Al looked at me, shook his head in disgust and smiled crookedly. “Barrin is busted. They’ve borrowed all they can on the sheer weight of the physical properties they own, but they’re at the end. All they can do is deal in odd bits and pieces, but the big contracts will go right past them. The more sophisticated products are beyond their reach and they couldn’t possibly stay inside the time elements on the new contracts being let out. Your cousins committed Barrin to a contract that is absolutely going to slay them, then the vultures are going to move in and take over, as they say, lock, stock and barrel.”

“What vultures, Al?”

“You ever hear of Cross McMillan?”

I let out a low laugh and picked a cigarette out of the open pack on the table and lit it. “Sure. His old man and my grandfather were mortal enemies. He was born when his father was sixty-some and grew up to be the meanest kid in the area. That son of a bitch knocked me for a loop one day when I helped some doll carry packages into her car. He was eight years older than me and was after her hide and didn’t want anybody cutting in. What a cocksman he thought he was.”

“So you put a firecracker under his car?”

“Nope. I hit him in the head with a rock one day and ran like hell. He never did catch me.”

“Well, friend, he caught your cousins. He’s the big vulture. Right now he’s got millions going to waste and all he wants is to get hold of Barrin Industries.”

“So let him.”

“He’ll get your ten grand too.”

“Like hell,” I said.

“Don’t believe me, then.” Al reached over and cut himself another slice of Genoa salami and nipped an end off it with evident pleasure. “Just watch,” he told me.

“Where did it go, Al?”

“The money?”

I nodded.

“You don’t know your cousins.”

“Tell me. That’s what I’m here for.”

“And a paid-up customer at that.” He swallowed the chunk of meat, burped and took a sip of beer. It’s what you call letting skeletons out of the closet.”

“Like you said, I’m the customer.”

“Okay, Dog.” Al told me. “Your funeral.”

“No flowers, please.”

“Sure. Well, if you remember, all that Barrin stock was left to the family ... at least the controlling majority.”

“Fifty-seven percent,” I reminded him.

“Exactly. And according to the terms of the will, neither your cousin Alfred nor Dennison could sell.”

“True.”

“They owned fifteen percent apiece, with the rest going to Veda, Pam and Lucella. The old man figured the girls needed something to attract a husband.”

“Yeah,” I said sourly, “I know. They got them too. All except Veda.”

“Remember them?”

“Only too well, buddy.”

“So you could have forgotten. They were all older than you. Anyway, remember Veda’s vice?”

“The cubes?”

“Oh, Dog, she’s got more class than that. Your cousin Veda discovered Las Vegas. She got with the wild bunch from New York and some of the sharpies who used to be based in Havana. Man, did she go down, and I don’t mean sexually. That crazy broad went through everything she had and hocked everything she didn’t have. Right now she’s living off the income from a small block of securities she won when she was having an early streak of luck. If it weren’t for that, Cousin Veda would be humping for a living.”