"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 320 - Reign of Terror" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

"Rowley used the fountain pen."

No flicker of expression passed over Buster's incurious face. He said, "That's good."

"There are some forms of insurance that pay off." The fat man looked happy. His pursed cupid's bow
mouth curved up. "To work. We can't sit around all day my boy. Let the first caller in." He drew his
tent-like silk bathrobe around his mountains of fat.

Buster said, "It's Bill Martin."

"Good."

Martin was six feet tall, spare, almost ascetic looking. His harsh good looks contrasted oddly with his
precise almost affected looking clothes. His tie was too straight, the knot too precise, his suit was too
well pressed, his shoes too shiny. He looked as if he dressed with a slide rule. He said, "Hello, Mr.
Corre."

"Sit down, Bill. How is the theatrical business?" The fat man leaned back in his special over sized chair.
"Bad for everybody else, good for us." Martin allowed himself to smile. He opened a note book. "The
collections are up. We took in forty thousand yesterday."

The fat man nodded. "Glad to hear it. I have suffered a slight set back. Nothing serious but no one likes
to lose a few hundred thousand dollars. It distresses one."

Martin said, "Yes, I can see how it would."

"Continue."

"I've arranged the collections so that most of them are on the same day."

"That's efficient."

"Here's a list. These people are not playing ball."

The fat man took it. He said, "It will be taken care of."

"In such a way," Martin leaned forward a trifle, "that I'll be in the clear?"

"Sure."

"I wouldn't want any kick back on this acid in the face stuff," Martin said.

"The boss said it would be taken care of," Buster said. "Why don't you listen to him, huh?"

"Oh... to be sure. Of course." Martin rose to his feet. "That finishes up my business, Mr. Corre."

Corre glanced at his watch. "Ah, lunch time. Would you care to join me in a snack?"

"Sure, I'd love to. I've heard about how good your food is." Martin smiled. This meant he was on the
inside. Corre had never cooked for anyone but Corbaccio before. This should be a good sign. Martin