The Erection Set

Dick Lagen hadn’t closed in yet, but his last paragraph hinted at a pending story that was going to be shattering in certain circles. Mona Merriman was doing the big thing in her gossip column, telling all about the workings of S.C. Cable and Walter Gentry in locating their new picture at an old picturesque factory site northeast of New York. Several prominent motion picture stars had already been suggested for leads in Fruits of Labor with the female slot being pretty well tied up by a current English beauty. My name was right up there with the rest of the Barrin clan as having been instrumental in bringing the picture to an eastern location rather than going onto California sets which were beginning to lose their appeal to total realism.

On the inside pages there was a one-column item about the two “mystery murders” as yet unsolved, but identification had been made and the usual solution was in the immediate future. I said, “Balls!” to myself and tossed the paper down just as the phone rang to tell me Al DeVecchio was on his way up.

Without his rocker, coffee and salami he was uncomfortable. He sat in a straight-back chair fiddling with the papers on his lap, shaking his head at the stupidity of it all and when he found what he was looking for, held it up as though he really needed it and said, “You won’t make it, Dog.”

“Why not?”

“McMillan figures to edge you out by at least five percentage points. That’s enough for control.”

“All proxies?”

“Who needs anything more? He’s got Farnsworth Aviation interested and with those contracts he gets the stockholders interested. There’s no more nostalgia, buddy. Anybody holding Barrin stock wants dividends, not fond memories. Most of what’s out has been inherited. It’s in new hands that couldn’t give a damn about anything except money.”

“He’s going to raid Barrin, Al.”

“Sure, I know it. He can take the contracts to his own factories and do the job better, but he isn’t holding that out in front of the people holding odd pieces of Barrin paper. He’ll make a shambles out of Barrin and couldn’t care less.”

“How come Farnsworth is interested at all?”

“Barrin reputation for excellence. They still use some of the old extrusion processes and that’s what Farnsworth wants. They don’t know it, but McMillan will probably screw them too. Prices aren’t about to go down no matter how you do it. He’s sold them a bill of goods somehow. Now he’s making it all look good to the little people.”

“What do I need?”

“Nothing you can get. McMillan has his shares and the proxies. You can get a seat on the board but it’ll be stacked against you. It’s his ball game.”

“How about the SEC?”

“Old Cross has got that licked too. He can always produce for a little while. Come on, Dog, you know what he’s really after.”

“I think I’m the only one who does,” I said.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just mumbling.”

“You wasted a lot of dough, pal.”

“Not yet.”

“Remember, I told you that you never even could count.”

“I hire people who can count, Al.”

He let the paper slide back into the pile and relaxed back into the chair, his face all funny. “What have you got going?”

“Just a lot of odd ideas. Barrin isn’t all that much to fight over.”

“So?”

“There’s something else.”

“Care to tell me?”

“I will when I can.” I lit a cigarette and held one out to him. “What happened to the Guido brothers?”

He took the light I offered and blew a stream of smoke across the space between us. “You like to put a chill on the party, don’t you?”

I waited.

“Everything’s come to a screaming halt until the Guido boys come up with the goods. I’m not in anybody’s confidence.”

“Then extrapolate. You’re pretty good at extrapolating.”

“I extrapolate a hell of a lot of money wandering around someplace where nobody can find it. The button boys are back on the streets again and small talk has it that contracts are ready to be handed out. The older Guido laddie got his family into South America just in case, but the other one didn’t think fast enough and his place in Jersey is staked out by a team over there. They’re scared shitless is what I know and they have heavy dough out to dig up that missing shipment.”

“Good for them.”

Al folded the papers into their envelope and tossed them at me. “And now, my old buddy, I want out of your life. I’m paid to date and I don’t want any more complications. You have all I’m about to give you and if you throw any of that old wartime camaraderie jazz at me I’ll tell you where to put it.”

“I’ll call you.”

“Anytime. For lunch, dinner, a squadron reunion, but stay out of my working life.”

He started to the door, stopped and turned around. “It’s been fun, Dog. Just enough to keep the old pecker up as the British used to say.”

“You’ll be missing the best part,” I said.

“I hope so.” He grinned at me and tossed his cigarette butt into an ashtray. “Incidentally, I had a long talk with Roland Holland.”

“Oh?”

“Let’s say I extrapolated again.” He paused and let his grin get wider. “You’re a sneaky slob,” he said.