"Jesus!" I said.
"Or have they already?"
"I see it was a stall, now," I said. "I didn't think anything of it at the time. It's such a relief not to have them trying to load you that I- "
Hap clicked his tongue again, trying to look sympathetic. I saw his angle. Sol hadn't needed his stuff to shut me out. The other exchanges were enough. Now, since it wasn't costing him anything, Hap was palling up to me, hoping that it would hurt Panzer in some way.
"I can't tell you how sorry lam, old man. I was just wondering-"
"Yeah?" I said.
"Perhaps you could force Sol to drive a deal with you. You can probably pick up a dozen pix or so from the little fellows, and of course you can count on my line-up. Every last picture I've got. Why-"
"What the hell are you talking about?" I said. "If there was any way I could run on your stuff it wouldn't be open. And you wouldn't be sitting there offering it to me."
"Please, laddie. Not so loud."
"Nuts," I said. "Panzer tried to play without you and you found out about it. You don't care whether he finds out you told me. You hope he will. It'll teach him to call you in the next time he cuts a pie."
Hap sighed. "We should have been partners. Great minds, et cetera. You know what I thought when I first saw you tonight?"
"I don't particularly give a damn."
"Don't be rude, Joseph. I might slap the unholy God out of you."
"All right," I said. "What did you think?"
"Well, I thought you had caught my hint after all; that that was why you were in town."
"I don't get you," I said. "I had to come in to buy some photoelectric cells."
"Perfect," he beamed. "But let's not be coy with one another. You know my attitude toward insurance companies. Feel it's more or less a civic duty to rook 'em."
"Now, wait a minute," I said. "I-I-"
"I thought, here's old Joe, virtually on the point of losing his shirt, and here's this unwholesome insurance policy, just lying around and collecting dust and doing no one the slightest good. And I put myself in your place, laddie. I thought, now what would a keen chap like old Joseph do?"
"B-But-"
"You do have insurance on the show?"
"Certainly, I have. But, goddamit-"
"Don't be vehement, laddie. I'm on your side."
"Yeah," I said. "Yeah, but-but-" My voice rose, and he frowned and started to call me down. And then his eyes narrowed, and he just sat there watching me. It wasn't necessary to tell me to shut up. I couldn't say anything. I couldn't move.
You see? He had the whole thing wrong, and yet he was in the right. He was right enough to pin my ears back and keep them pinned, if he wanted to. And he would want to. He'd play it for all it was worth.
But, bad as that was, it wasn't what really got me. What got me, what made me feel like I was going crazy, was the realization that the woman was going to die for nothing. Her death wasn't going to mean a thing. It was just murder, nothing more than murder, with none of us better off than if she had lived.
And now there wasn't any way I could stop it. I knew those bus schedules backward and forward; and I knew it was too late.
There's nothing quite so silent as film row on Saturday night. The Playgrand exchange was half a dozen doors up the street, but when their phones began ringing they sounded like they were in the next room.
They stopped ringing in Playgrand and began in Utopian. And then they rang in Colfax and Wolfe. And finally-
Hap was watching me like a hawk. He spit on the carpet without ever taking his eyes off me, and picked up his phone.
"Yes," he said. "Righto, operator. Put 'em on… Mr. Wilmot? Why, yes. I believe I can reach him. Was there some message you-"
"Give me that phone," I said, and grabbed for it.
He planted his foot in my stomach, and I doubled up with the wind knocked out of me.
"What?" he said. "Why, that's terrible! I can't tell you how sorry I-Certainly, I will! Certainly. As a matter of fact, he's just stepped into the office. I'll break the news to him gently."
He hung up the receiver, poured a glassful of whisky, and handed it to me.
"Brace yourself, old man. There's been a terrible accident. Your wife-"
There was a grin on his face a foot wide.
14
All Stoneville is grieving over the death of Elizabeth Barclay Wilmot, wife of JosephJ. Wilmot, local theater magnate, who passed away in afire at the Wilmot estate Saturday night. Cause of the fire has not been determined, but it is suspected that rats gnawing at the wiring may have been responsible. The fire broke out about nine o'clock, shortly after Mrs. Wilmot had returned from Wheat City where she had gone to pick up Miss Carol Farmer, a household employee. Miss Farmer, who was on her way back to Stoneville from a vacation, had missed her bus while dining in Wheat City, and had called Mrs. Wilmot to come after her. Upon reaching the Wilmot residence here, Miss Farmer went into the house and Mrs. Wilmot repaired to the upstairs of the garage, which was equipped as a film-inspecting room. When the fire burst into being a few minutes later, Miss Farmer notified the Stoneville fire department which promptly and efficiently answered the call. But little if anything could be done to defeat the holocaust. While the inspection room itself was fireproof, the heat was so intense that the supports and exterior walls of the building ignited and crumbled. Mrs. Wilmot was pinned beneath a work bench. Mr. Wilmot, who was out of town on business, was notified of the tragedy by telephone. Suffering from shock and grief, he was accompanied home by Mr. Harbert A. Chance, film company executive. Mr. Chance, an old friend of Mr. Wilmot's will remain in Stoneville temporarily to assist in the conduct of the latter's affairs. Mr. Wilmot has been convalescing in the Stoneville Sanitarium, suffering from shock and grief, but is expected to…
I read a story one time about a fellow that was accidentally slipped into a big job; president of a company or something like that. He looked like the guy that actually was president, see, and when this guy ran off or fell in a mudhole or something and wasn't ever seen again, why this one hooked his place. He didn't know beans about the business, and all he planned on doing was to stick around long enough to snap a few rubber checks and maybe get the other guy's gal alone in the parlor for a while. But once he got inside, the graft looked so good that he decided to stay for a real milking. He was scared out of his pants, naturally, because he didn't know any more about the setup than a hog does about ice skates. But he ran a bluff, and damned if he didn't make good on it.
His work was just cut out for him, see what I mean? The stenographers would bring him letters to sign, and he'd just sign 'em. And when he got any letters, his vice-presidents or some of his secretaries would take charge of them. And when people showed up for conferences all he had to do was keep his eyes and ears open, and he could see what he had to do. He didn't have to move. He got moved. As I remember the yarn, he wound up by getting made president of a lot of other companies and marrying the other guy's gal, and no one ever knew the difference.
Well, when I read that I thought it was strictly off the cob. And I knew it'd be just my luck to have the thing made into a movie and I'd have to see it. But if you asked me now I'd say it wasn't corn. If I hadn't been worried about Hap Chance, and being broke, I wouldn't have done much worrying. Up to a certain point.
I didn't have to explain the accident-if you want to call it that. There were several stories going around that were better than any I could dream up. I didn't have to pretend I was suffering from shock and grief. They told me I was.