unique novel attempts to unfathom those aspects of life which for too long have been ignored by those whose business it is to advance the frontiers of social sensibility. A lovely book and one that deserves the widest readership.' What do you think of that?'
'Frankly,' said Frensic, 'I regard it as unmitigated tosh but I'm delighted that Miss Shelmerdine has said it all the same. I always said it would be a money-spinner.'
'You did, you most certainly did,' said Geoffrey, 'I have to hand it to you, you've been absolutely right.'
'Well we'll have to see about that,' said Frensic before Geoffrey could become too effusive. 'Reviews aren't everything. People have yet to buy the book. Still, it augurs well for American sales. Is there anything else?'
'There's a rather nasty piece by Octavian Dorr.'
'Oh good,' said Frensic. 'He's usually to the point and I like his style.'
'I don't,' said Geoffrey. 'He's far too personal for my taste and he should stick to the book. That's what he's paid for. Instead he has made some rather odious comparisons. Still I suppose he has given us some quotable quotes for the jacket of Piper's next book and that's the main thing.'
'Quite,' said Frensic and turned with relish to Octavian Dorr's column in the Sunday Telegraph, 'I just hope we do as well with the weeklies.'
He put the phone down, made some toast and settled down with Octavian Dorr whose piece was headed 'Permissive Senility'. It began, 'It is appropriate that the publishers of Pause O Men for the Virgin by Peter Piper should have printed their first book during the reign of Catherine The Great. The so-called heroine of this their latest has many of the less attractive characteristics of that Empress of Russia. In particular a fondness amounting to sexual mania for the favours of young men and a partiality for indiscretion that was, to say the least, regrettable. The same can be said for the publishers, Corkadales...'
Frensic could see exactly why Geoffrey had hated the review. Frensic found it entirely to his taste. It was long and strident and while it castigated the author, the publisher and the public whose appetite for perverse eroticism made the sale of such novels profitable, and then went on to blame society in general for the decline in literary values, it nevertheless drew attention to the book. Mr Dorr might deplore perverse eroticism but he also helped to sell it. Frensic finished the review with a sigh of relief and turned to the others. Their praise, the presumptuous pap of progressive opinion, earnest, humourless and sickeningly well-meaning, had given Pause the imprimatur of respectability Frensic had hoped for. The novel was being taken seriously and if the weeklies followed suit there was nothing to worry about.
'Significance is all,' Frensic murmured and helped his nose to snuff. 'Prime the pump with meaningful hogwash.'
He settled back in his chair and wondered if there was anything he could do to ensure that Pause got the maximum publicity. Some nice big sensational story for the daily papers...
Chapter 14
In the event Frensic had no need to worry. Five hours to the west the sensational story of Piper's death at sea was beginning to break. So was Hutchmeyer. He sat in the police chiefs office and stared at the chief and told his story for the tenth time to an incredulous audience. It was the empty gasolene cans that were fouling things up for him.
'Like I've told you, Miss Futtle tied them to me to keep me afloat while she went to get help.'
'She went to get help, Mr Hutchmeyer? You let a little lady go and get help...'
'She wasn't little,' said Hutchmeyer, 'she's goddam large.'
Chief Greensleeves shook his head sorrowfully at this lack of chivalry. 'So you were out in the middle of the bay with this Miss Futtle. What was Mrs Hutchmeyer doing all this time?'
