Chapter 2
Allan Farris' estate was about fifteen miles from home. He kept going over the proposition in his mind. For the life of him he could not see any flaws. There were some possible sources of slip-ups, that was for sure, but no matter how it was cut, Mike was sure that he would not be in hot water. Farris was the one who was playing around. Farris was the one who had to be careful.
However, there was more involved here than simply the mechanical considerations. The whole deal had a bad smell about it and even though Mike needed the money desperately he was not fully convinced in his own mind that he was the kind of person who could go through with this.
Driving through the night, Mike tried to take a good look at himself. Who am I, he wondered? What about that ugly word, blackmail? He tried it on himself to see how it fit. Blackmailer. Mike Reston, blackmailer. What the hell! Thousanus of wives divorced their husbands every day of the week and great numbers of them hired private detectives to get the goods on the old man and to get a few pictures of him sticking it into some strange twat.
But Mike could not dismiss it that easily and it remained in a comer of his mind as a source of vague discomfort.
The only other problem, as Mike saw it, was getting his share of the money. He felt more and more confident that the hold he had over Elly would be enough to insure that he got his fair share. Even if the whole deal fell through, all that Mike would be out would be the time spent rigging the deal. A warm flush in his belly made him think of the time spent on the sofa with Elly and he knew that that would make up for any small change that he might lose.
Mike had come out of the Marine Corps two years earlier and he was still trying to get his life in order. He had enjoyed the freedom that his service days had given him, but now he wanted something else. Something with a bit more structure to it. Now, after two years, he had a small construction outfit. His company did small jobs and when anything came along that was too big Mike subcontracted to a couple of his friends in town rather than skip it all together and get a reputation for being just another small time operation. He did most of the planning and selling for the company on his own and he had a full time crew of about fifteen men. If he ever needed more men it was usually an easy matter of hiring them by the week. There were usually plenty of willing workers around.
Aside from a good contact here and there and a couple of trucks with his name printed on the side there was not much to the construction company. But the way the town was growing there was a lot of money to be made in Harbor City. Mike wanted to be ready to take advantage of the prosperous times that were coming.
Mike drove slowly through the residential area that surrounded the building where his apartment was. It was still early and a light spring breeze blew through the car. Strollers walked slowly along the sidewalks as if eager to take advantage of every breath of spring now that winter had gone at last. In spite of the heavy weight on his mind, Mike felt good. His spirits were high. He was happiest when he was busy. He had learned long ago that he accomplished the most when he had to budget his time carefully and the loads and demands on him were the heaviest.
He pulled up in front of the apartment and parked the car. That's a nice thing about a town that is not too big, he thought, no problem with parking. He locked the car and entered the building.
On the elevator he nodded to two attractive young girls he knew by sight only. Someone had recently mentioned that they had taken an apartment on his floor. He was home so rarely that he didn't even know them. They smiled coolly at him, then ignored him.
Mike's apartment was on the third floor along with three others. He unlocked the door to his place and dropped his light spring jacket over the soft overstuffed chair in front of the television set. Mike seldom watched television, but he liked to have the set there. Occasionally he would fall asleep in the big chair with a can of beer in his hand while watching the late show. That was the best cure for insomnia there was. Mike smiled. If he could figure some way to put it in bottles and sell it he could become a millionaire overnight. He got a beer out of the refrigerator in the kitchen and flopped down in the big chair. He tried to go over the whole Farris set up again, but he got bored with it. He finished the beer and went to sleep.