Nothing More Than Murder

it. He'll drive the stock down first. If you got in anywhere besides the basement you'd lose your shirt.'

'Not bad,' I said.

'But that's only part of the picture, Joe.' Al held up a finger. 'A Panz palace house will use around ten thousand dollars worth of paper and display matter a year. If you and I bought it, it'd mean a flat outlay of ten grand, but Sol uses the same paper over and over. And he owns his own paper company. It's not a big outfit; has a capitalization of about a quarter of a million. But-'

But that was all to the good. Dumping ten thousand bucks' profit into a company that size meant a four- percent increase in dividends.

'Then there's his film-express company. It'll take a jump in profits with practically no increase in overhead. And his equipment companies, Joe. You know what show-house equipment is; high-profit, slow-moving stuff. A big order suddenly dumped in on those companies-'

My head began to swim. I'd thought I was halfway smart but beside Panzer I wasn't anything. He'd mop up in a dozen different ways, and the mopping up would be legitimate. His companies would be worth more. He'd have an actual operating loss in Stoneville, but it wouldn't ever show, and the house wouldn't cost him anything in the long run. He could show that he was increasing Panz palace assets by a million bucks. That would stop any squawks.

Of course, someone was going to lose. The money had to come from somewhere. Suckers would be shaken out. The film companies would have to pinch a little, and there'd be wage cuts and layoffs. The-But what the hell of it? Sol would mop up and he'd be in the clear.

That's business.

Al leaned back in his chair. 'By the way, Joe, who tipped you off?'

'No one,' I said. 'I just had a premonition.'

'I read the papers, Joe. Hap Chance seems to be your bosom friend all of a sudden. Well, all I got to say is I wouldn't want to be in his shoes. This is one time he's got out beyond his depth. I suppose he thought this was just a little petty chiseling that he should be taken in on.'

I didn't answer him. I didn't want to talk about Hap. If he was washed up on the row-and Sol could wash him up if he wanted to take the trouble-he'd bear down that much harder on me.

'When's Sol moving in, Al?'

'Only Sol knows that.'

'Where's he going to build?'

'Well-' He hesitated. 'Maybe I've been talking too much. But you can figure it out for yourself. Where would you build if you were in his place?'

'That's simple,' I said. 'You couldn't pick a better show lot than the one I've got, and people are accustomed to going in that direction. But-but-'

I choked up. I could feel my face turning purple. Al looked down at his desk nervously.

'Now, Joe. You couldn't expect him to talk it over with you.'

'Goddamit,' I said. 'I'll make him wish he had! Maybe I won't sell! Maybe I got some ideas on making money, myself! Maybe-'

'You won't have any income, Joe. How long do you think you can play holdout?'

'A hell of a lot longer than Sol thinks! I don't give a goddam if I starve, I'll-I'll-'

I choked up again. I wouldn't get a chance to starve. I wouldn't even have time to get real hungry before Hap or Andy or Elizabeth or-

'You see, Joe? It wouldn't be smart, would it?'

'No,' I said, 'it wouldn't be smart.'

I got up and walked out.

18

I've probably given you the idea that Elizabeth didn't have much tact or, at least, that she didn't go out of her way to use it. And that's true and it was the cause of a lot of our trouble. But now that I think about it, it seems like the thing that caused the most hell was that I never knew quite how she was going to react to a given situation.

I don't mean that I'd want any woman to be all cut and dried in her actions, or that I ever expected anyone to use me as a pattern. But I do say you've got to have some-well, some standard of conduct or you don't have anything at all. You've got to know whether what you're going to do will make a person happy or sore. You've got to know whether a person is actually happy when they-he-she looks like and says she is or at least you've got to know that she isn't. And if that sounds mixed up I am and I was, right from the day we were married.

We closed the show up for two weeks for our honeymoon, since it wasn't making a damned thing anyway; and, seeing that it was summer, we went to a resort up in the eastern part of the state. It was just a small place- but nothing cheap by a long shot-and everyone had you sized up the minute you walked in. Everyone knew that Elizabeth and I were just married, and everyone was doing a little under-the- breath kidding about it. And I thought that Elizabeth was taking it perfectly all right-as why the hell shouldn't she have?

But when the waiter brought our dinner up that night she suddenly blew the lid off of things. One minute he was chuckling and just being pleasant as waiters will; and the next minute he was out the door so fast his jacket tails were flying. I don't exactly remember what it was Elizabeth said to him. But I knew it was the wrong thing. And before I knew what was happening she was telephoning the manager and reporting this boy for insulting us.

'For Christ's sake,' I said, when I finally got my breath, 'what did you do that for, Elizabeth?'

'I'm sorry, Joe,' she said. 'I should have let you do it.'

'Do what? Why should I have done anything?'

'Oh?' Her mouth tightened, then relaxed. 'I know you've been thinking about business matters, dear. But if you'd noticed-'

'I tell you what I have noticed,' I said. 'I've noticed you standing right out in the middle of Stoneville, gabbing and laughing with some washwoman and her ragged-assed pickaninnies until-'

'Don't use words like that, Joe!'

'All right, then, they were just ragged, but-'

Well, how can you argue with a person like that? Someone that's absolutely determined to miss the entire point of a conversation?

I said, 'Well, hell, let's forget it and go to bed.' And we went, and there wasn't any more argument the rest of that night. But I still felt bad about getting this boy in trouble and maybe letting ourselves in for a lot of rotten service. And, like she always knew, Elizabeth knew that I was bothered.

When we went down to breakfast the next morning, the waiter captain gave us a funny look and led us over to a table in the middle of the dining-room. And then he snapped his fingers, and this same boy we'd had the night before came running over.

'George wants to apologize for his conduct,' the captain said. 'I'm sure you'll have no more trouble with him.'

'Sure, why not,' I said. 'Just give us a menu and skip it. We'll get along all right.'

I almost jerked the menus out of the waiter's hands, and shoved one at Elizabeth; and I got behind the other one fast. But it wasn't any go. Elizabeth wasn't ready to drop it until I looked like a complete damned fool.

'Why, sure, everything's okay,' she said, letting out with a big laugh. 'George and I are pals, aren't we, George?' And right in front of everyone she reached out and grabbed his hand and shook it.

We ate breakfast. I guess.

We got out of there and went for a long, fast walk. Elizabeth didn't say anything and neither did I. It wasn't until noon, after we'd eaten at a little hamburger joint in the town, that we got to speaking to each other again. And then it wasn't so good.

I did all I could, God knows. I admitted she'd played me for a chump, and tried to laugh it off. But right in the middle of my trying to make a joke of it she busted out bawling, and then she ran back to the hotel by herself.

I guess this waiter George must have been a pretty good boy because I had to pay the captain fifty bucks to fire him. That made things a little more comfortable; and after a day or two-a night or two, I should say-Elizabeth and I were beginning to feel that marriage wasn't such a bad deal after all.