1953 - The Sucker Punch Page 3

  Then to round it off I got to 334 Western Avenue. She looked hard at me.

  "You seem to be taking care of everything today. Have you a solution for that too?”

  "No solution is needed. It’s entirely up to you. Burgess wants to turn the house into a brothel. It depends on you if you want one of your father's properties to become a brothel."

  I could see by her sudden frown she didn't like it as bluntly as that.

  "Well, there's also the problem of the tenants,” I said.

  "Mr. Leadbeater tells me I shouldn't turn them out. He was quite upset to think of them being without a home."

  “There won't be any trouble about that. I'll fix it."

  She raised her eyebrows "How would you do that?"

  "That's something you needn't worry about, Miss Shelley. I will fix it in my way, and it'll stay fixed."

  "All right. Then I would like to sell the property."

  "I'll see Burgess this morning."

  "This is all very satisfactory, Mr. Winters. I had no idea you were going to turn out to be such a ball of fire."

  "There have been too many changes. It was obvious to me that something was wrong. The bank was forgetting the customer is always right."

  She glanced at the bedside clock.

  "Is that the time? I have an appointment in an hour and I'm not even dressed."

  This was a pretty crude brush off. She had got all she wanted out of me, and now she wanted to be rid of me.

  I stood up.

  "It's been nice meeting you, Mr. Winters," she said and extended her claw-like hand. It felt cold and brittle in mine. "I think you are very clever, and I am very pleased with the change. I shall tell Mr. Sternwood."

  I grinned at her. "Well, now, Miss Shelley, there are two small things you might do for me."

  "Oh?" Her voice was suddenly cold. "What could I possibly do for you, Mr. Winters?"

  "I want to get these matters settled for you quickly. I have no transport. It would be helpful if you could loan me a car for a day or two."

  "But surely that's the bank's business to provide you with a car?"

  "The bank isn't going to be told about the changes until they have been made," I said, "but if you haven't a spare car. . ."

  "A spare car?" she snapped, "I have six spare cars!"

  "Then perhaps you could lend me one."

  She bit her lip angrily. I could see she hated parting with a car. She would hate to part with anything.

  "Well, I suppose I could. Just for a day or so. All right; go to the garage. Joe will let you have one."

  "Perhaps you would be kind enough to telephone him. I wouldn't want a car as bad as the champagne."

  She started to look furious, then suddenly she laughed.

  "You have a hell of a nerve, but I think I'm beginning to like you. You certainly know what you want and where you are going."

  "I guess I do. The other point is a minor matter. I anticipate having quite a lot of confidential work to do for you in the future. The tax matter is an example. At the moment I am working in the main office of the bank where anyone can look over my shoulder and see what I am doing. In your interests, it would be better if I had an office of my own."

  She lost her patronizing air. She was beginning to look at me as if I were a human being and not a performing animal, then she suddenly giggled.

  "Does that poor old fool Sternwood know what kind of a clerk he's got? I bet he doesn't. I think you are going to go far, Mr. Winters. By all means quote me. Say I insist on you having a private office."

  And that's how I got my hands on a car and an office. See what I mean when I said the doors to the world I was after were wide open?

  And this was only the beginning.

  chapter three

  Moe Burgess sat behind a battered desk, a dead cigar between his decaying teeth, a black slouch hat on the back of his head.

  He was a little guy; thin, with a nose like a fishhook and a complexion like the belly of a toad.

  A redhead with a bosom like a prima donna's, wrenched herself away from a typewriter and hip-swung herself across the intervening space to block me away from Moe.

  "'What do you want?" she demanded in a voice no more musical than a fistful of empty cans being tossed downstairs.

  "I want him," I said, pointing to Moe. "Shift the scenery, sweetheart. It's good, but this isn't the time nor the place."

  I stepped around her and gave Moe the teeth; then I told him who I was.

  "I'm Leadbeater's successor," I said. "I'm in charge of Miss Shelley's affairs."

  He eyed me over, took in the pouch pocket sports jacket, then leaned forward to examine my shoes.

  "Excuse me, Mr. Winters, but somehow you don't look like a guy from the bank."

  "Let's skip all that. Are you still in the market for 334 Western Avenue?"

  "Sure, but that guy Leadbeater said it wasn't for sale."

  "Still want it at the price?"

  "Sure I do."

  "Maybe I can fix it if the redhead went outside and admired the view for five minutes."

  He looked a little startled, then turned his head and scowled at the girl who was typing with one finger, the tip of her tongue showing between her painted lips.

  "Hey you! Get the hell out of here!"

  When she had hip-swung herself through the doorway and closed the door after her, Moe said, "What's the fix?"

  "You can have the house at your price if you'll take the tenants over with the sale," I told him.

  "What do I want the tenants for?"

  "Miss Shelley doesn't like getting rid of them. They've had the house for thirty-five years or something like that, and they're pretty old. It seemed to me you wouldn't be so sentimental about it. You could get rid of them after the house is yours."

  He thought for a moment, grinned suddenly and said, "Okay, I'll sign when she's ready to."

  "Good." I paused to light a cigarette while I studied him. "Now about the fix."

  His eyes went sleepy again.

  "You sound like a smart boy," he said, staring at me.

  "You'll get the house after paying me a fee of five hundred bucks, and not before."

  He made a little grimace.

  "The old shakedown, huh?"

  "That's the idea. The bank doesn't approve of you. Miss Shelley is scared of you. Without me you haven't a chance of getting the house. The fix is five C's. If the house isn't worth that to you, say so."

  "Okay," he said, lifting his thin shoulders. "I've always been a sucker for a shakedown." He dragged out of his inside pocket a greasy billfold, stuffed with money.

  Seeing all that dough made me wish I had slugged him for a grand, but it was a little late for regrets now.

  "When I get the house running, Mr. Winters, come and give the girls a try. You sound like a regular guy."

  "So I am," I said, taking the bills he offered me. "I'll be around tomorrow for your signature and the property will be yours in as short a time as I can fix it."

  As I went into the outer office the redhead gave me the eye and hitched her front towards me. I didn't even pause in my stride. This wasn't the time for redheads. I was hearing the soft rustle of dollar bills, and there's no sweeter music.

  This was becoming quite a day.

  There were five or six estate management firms in Little Eden. Harrison & Ford were the biggest and most respectable. Steinbeck & Howe were the smallest and most disreputable. This firm, I decided, would give their eyeteeth to handle Vestal's business. They were just the people to screw the extra rent out of the Shelley Foundation. Their collectors were musclemen who went around with a length of lead piping wrapped in a newspaper as an inducement to easy rent collecting.

  As I drove the Cadillac along Floral Boulevard, I wondered if I dare put the bite on Bernie Howe. I had never met him, but his reputation as a shyster and a shark was notorious. A lot depended on how the interview went, and how keen he seemed to be to get his hooks into Vestal's busin
ess.

  I had no difficulty in seeing him. As soon as I told the girl I was from the bank, she took me straight into his office.

  How was immensely fat; tall with a round ball of a face, a drooping moustache and snapping blue eyes. He was in his middle fifties, but looked older. He gave me a searching look as I crossed the room, stood up and offered a large moist hand.

  "Glad to meet you, Mr. Winters. Have a seat."

  "You're busy and so am I," I said, sitting down. "I'll come straight to the point. I think you know the Pacific Banking Corporation looks after Miss Shelley's affairs?"

  He inclined his head.

  "It's my job to represent the bank in their dealings with Miss Shelley," I went on. "I have only recently taken over the job, and I am making a few changes here and there. Would you be interested in handling the rent collection of the Shelley Foundation?"

  He rubbed his fat nose with a fat finger. His face was as expressionless as the back of a trolley.

  "Have Harrison & Ford given up the work then?"

  "Miss Shelley is considering giving them up." I took from my billfold the Shelley Foundation rent statement for the previous month and pushed it across the desk at him. "Miss Shelley wants a fifteen per cent increase on those figures."

  He studied the statement for a moment or so, then glanced up.

  "There will be no trouble about that. My men have been trained to collect whatever rents my clients want."

  "Then you think you can handle it?"

  "Certainly."

  I wished he sounded more enthusiastic. We talked terms for a minute or so. Rather to my surprise his cut came slightly lower than Harrison & Ford's commission.

  "You understand the Foundation is just a drop in the bucket?" I said. "Miss Shelley has property all over the country. I might be able to persuade her to let you take care of it all. Could you handle it?"

  "Certainly, Mr. Winters," he returned. "Our organization is geared to handle any estate, large or small."

  This lack of enthusiasm made the opening I was looking for tricky. I guessed he was deliberately playing it this way, "I said I might persuade her. It doesn't necessarily mean I will," I said, moving a little further out into the open.

  Again he stroked his fat nose with his fat finger.

  "If you would prefer to wait and see how we handle the Shelley Foundation, I should be happy to leave the decision to you," he returned mildly.

  This fencing was getting me nowhere. I had to move right out into the open.

  I grinned at him.

  "Shall we get off our high horses and get this thing down on the mat? I have a valuable proposition that every estate management firm in town would jump at. I'm bringing it to you. What's in it for me?"

  His round fat face was expressionless as he gazed at me.

  "What's in it for you?" he repeated. "I don't think I am following you, Mr. Winters. You did say you were a servant of the Pacific Banking Corporation, didn't you?"

  "I am nobody's servant," I said, shoving my chin at him. "I happen to work for the bank, but before very long I anticipate changes. You may be interested to know that the bank is anxious to retain the services of Harrison and Ford. Let's face facts, Mr. Howe. Your firm isn't rated as the most respectable in town. The bank wouldn't give you any business, and you know it. I can swing this thing. I happen to have a lot of influence with Miss Shelley. Do you see any reason why I should give you her business for nothing?"

  He studied me for a long moment.

  "Yes, I can see your point of view. What do you want, Mr. Winters?"

  At last I had got him out into the open.

  "A thousand dollars, Mr. Howe. For that I will give you a letter right now authorizing you to take over the whole of Miss Shelley's properties."

  He stared down at his snowy blotter, then looked up.

  "I would prefer a letter signed by Miss Shelley herself. Give me that, and you shall have your money."

  I didn't anticipate any difficulty in persuading Vestal to give him the letter.

  "I'll have it here tomorrow at midday."

  "Very well. Happy to do business with you, Mr. Winters. You can find your way out?"

  "Have the money in cash, Mr. Howe."

  "Naturally. Good day, Mr. Winters."

  Out on the street I paused to wipe my sweating face. It had been easy to put the bite on Burgess, but I was now wondering if it had been a false move to have tried the same racket on Howe. He had, of course, everything to gain by playing along with me, but if he reported me to the bank, he could fix me. I didn't believe would do it. He hadn't a chance of getting Vestal's business unless he played my way.

  I lit a cigarette and crossed the sidewalk to the Cadillac. I had to take risks. If it came off I would be fifteen hundred dollars to the good. I would be crazy not to take risks for that kind of money.

  Back at the bank I found a message on my desk to report to Sternwood as soon as I got in. For a moment or so, my heart jumped around like a freshly landed trout.

  Had either Howe or Burgess been on to him?

  I could feel cold sweat beading my face as I walked into Sternwood's office.

  He glanced up and smiled.

  As soon as I saw that smile I knew it was all right, and I wanted a drink as I had never wanted a drink before.

  "Come in, Chad, and sit down."

  I was glad to get the weight off my legs.

  "Well, Miss Shelley seemed very pleased with you, my boy. She actually took the trouble to call me about you," Sternwood said, beaming from ear to ear. "That's never happened before."

  "You know how it is, sir," I said casually. "We just seemed to hit it off."

  "I'll say you did. She tells me you are to have a private office here," Sternwood said, chuckling. "It seems she might visit us and would want somewhere to discuss things with you."

  This news startled me. I hadn't expected Vestal to put up my case for me. I wondered if after all I hadn't made a bigger hit with her than I had imagined.

  "I think it is an excellent suggestion," he went on. "As a matter of fact your room's all ready for you now. I gave orders to have it prepared as soon as Miss Shelley raised the point. I want to encourage her to come here more often."

  "I agree, sir."

  "You are to have the office next to the Shelley room," Sternwood went on. "It has a nice view and is reasonably well furnished. I have detailed Miss Goodchild to act as your stenographer."

  "Thank you, sir," I said, trying not to let him see how surprised I was by all this.

  "What about these three points Miss Shelley was raising?" Sternwood went on. "How did you get on?"

  On my way back to the bank I had decided how best to answer this inevitable question.

  "Well, sir, I managed to talk her out of the mink coat business. It took time, but I made her see we wouldn't give way. I was pretty blunt about it. I told her it was a tax fraud, and she could be prosecuted for it. That scared her off."

  "Well done! I don't mind telling you we were a little worried about tackling her that way," Sternwood said, slightly popeyed. "She has a very explosive temper. Now how about the other two points?"

  I shrugged my shoulders.

  "I'm sorry, sir, but she acted before I arrived. I'm afraid Leadbeater didn't handle her right. She felt she was being pushed around, and she's shown her independence. She's sold the house to Burgess, and she's transferred her rent collection to Steinbeck & Howe and raised the rents of the Shelley Foundation. Howe has assured her he can collect the extra money without difficulty."

  Sternwood looked as if he had suddenly swallowed a bee.

  "Steinbeck & Howe! Why, they're shysters! Howe's a crook!"

  "I told her that, but she told me to mind my own business. Howe could make a whale of a lot of money out of her. With your permission, sir, I propose to use what little influence I have over her and see if I can persuade her to let me deal direct with Howe. I could put a snaffle on him."

  Sternwood's eyes sud
denly alerted.

  "Influence? What do you mean? What influence have you over her?"

  I realized a little late that I had been too confident. I wasn't dealing with Moe Burgess now.

  "I know it sounds a little brash, sir, but Miss Shelley did seem as if she would accept my advice."

  He continued to stare at me.

  "We don't want to curb Howe, Chad. We want to get rid of him. I think I'd better talk to Miss Shelley myself."

  I was feeling pretty bad by now. If he telephoned Vestal about Howe and learned she didn't even know of his existence I should be in a hell of a jam.

  As he reached for the telephone, I said, "Just a moment, sir. You know what she is like. Coming from you she might think she is being pushed around still more."

  His hand hovered over the telephone.

  "But it is my duty to warn her about Howe," he said sharply.

  I had trouble in controlling my voice.

  "When she told me what she had done I really went to town on Howe, sir. In the end, she got angry. She said if she heard any more about him from us, she would close the account."

  He took his hand away from the telephone as if it threatened to bite him.

  "If I can persuade her to let me check all the rent statements," I went on, "as they come in, I can't see that Howe can do much damage."

  He rubbed his chin and nodded.

  "Think you can?"

  "I think so, sir."

  "Perhaps I'd better."

  "I'd be glad if you would let me try first. If I fail, then you can take over. It would give you a good excuse to talk to her. You could say I hadn't stated our case properly."

  He seemed to like that for he relaxed back in his chair.

  "All right. See her tomorrow and have a talk with her. If you're not successful, I'll talk to her." He suddenly smiled. "At least you have stopped the mink coat business. That was worrying me. You did well there."

  "Thank you, sir," I said.

  I couldn't get out of his office fast enough.

  chapter four

  I was in my new office the next morning before nine o'clock. That was a record for me, but I had a pretty full day ahead of me, and I was raring to go.

  During the night I had done some heavy thinking. I had several ideas lined up that would bring me in some personal money. I realized the power of Vestal Shelley's name. If I played my cards carefully I could cash in on her name, making a rake-off wherever I offered her business.