"The Case of the Dangerous Dowager" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gardner Erle Stanley)

CHAPTER 12

MASON CALLED Paul Drake from a pay station in an isolated side-street restaurant. "Hello, Paul," he said cautiously when he heard the detective's voice on the line. "What's new?"

Drake said, "Seen the papers?"

"Yes."

"How do you figure it?"

"I don't figure it yet. Where's Oxman?"

"He signed that written statement and was released. He went to his hotel. A couple of reporters nailed him there for an interview. Then he sneaked out the back way and went out to Hollywood. He's registered in the Christy Hotel in five-nineteen, under the name of Sydney French."

Mason gave a low whistle. "Think he knows his wife is there?"

"I don't see how he can."

"Then what's his idea?"

"I think he's trying to dodge reporters."

Mason said slowly, "I don't like it, Paul."

"Well, after all," the detective said, "it's a reasonably prominent hotel. It may be just a coincidence they both picked it."

Mason thought for a moment, then said, "Hardly a coincidence, Paul, but it may be that the hotel has associations for them or they may have used it before when they wanted to hide out… Tell me, Paul, what's the latest on Belgrade?"

Drake's voice was bitter. "If I told you what I think of that snake it'd melt the telephone wire."

"Never mind what you think of him; what's he doing, Paul?"

"Hell, I don't know, Perry. I haven't kept tabs on him. They served him with a subpoena to appear before the Federal Grand Jury this afternoon. They also served one on me and they're trying their damnedest to serve one on you. One of the newspapers was trying to keep Belgrade sewed up, but after the subpoena was served it was no dice."

"Where did he spend the night, Paul?"

"How the devil should I know?… Who cares where he spent the night?"

"I do."

"Why?"

"Because," Mason said, "he's going to be wanting some clean clothes, a bath, a shirt, socks, change of underwear, and, if he's going before the Federal Grand Jury and have his picture taken for the newspapers, he'll probably want to put on his best suit."

"So what?"

"So," Mason went on, "I thought perhaps we could drop around to his house and find him there."

"Now listen, Perry, if we go around there and start making a beef, it won't do us a damn bit of good and the first thing he'll do will be to get on the line and tell the detectives where they can find you. I feel the same way you do about him, but…"

"Forget it," Mason interrupted. "I'm working on an entirely different theory. What does he look like, Paul?"

"You mean a physical description?"

"Yes."

"He's around fifty, weighs about a hundred and ninety pounds, is five feet six-and-a-half inches, wears a short mustache, and has a little scar on the top of his right ear where a bullet nicked him, and…"

"What kind of a suit was he wearing?"

"He wears a blue serge suit when he's on duty," Drake said. "Figures it's less conspicuous and blends well in the dark. Most of the men who do shadow work wear dark clothes."

"What's his residence address, Paul?"

"A little bungalow just off Washington Boulevard on Fifth Avenue. It's pretty well out."

"How far from Washington?"

"Only a couple of blocks, as I remember the place. I drove out to see him two or three days ago."

"Tell you what you do, Paul," Mason said. "Climb in your car and meet me out at the corner of Fifth Avenue and Washington. I'm in Hollywood, driving a rented car. We should get there just about the same time."

"Now wait a minute, Perry. You're in bad enough on this thing already. For God's sake, don't go messing around…"

"Better start right now," Mason said, and hung up the receiver.

The lawyer beat Paul Drake to the rendezvous by more than five minutes. Drake drove up, parked his car, and came across to the lawyer and renewed his protestations. "I don't think this is going to get us anywhere, Perry," he said.

"Well," Mason told him, "I want you to know more about Belgrade. He's the only one of your men who was on the ship when the murder was discovered. I'm particularly anxious to know whether his report of what happened out there is accurate."

"He's a double-crosser, or he'd never have betrayed you," Drake commented bitterly. "I'll see he never gets another detective-agency job as long as he lives."

"Forget it," the lawyer told him. "It was a chance for a clean-up and he fell for it. Aside from that one slip, he may be okay."

They walked in silence for a block, then Drake said, "There's the house over there, the one which sits back from the street."

"Does his wife know you?"

"Yes."

"But she doesn't know me?"

"I don't think so. Not unless she's seen your picture somewhere."

Mason said, "That'll be swell. Now, what I want to do is to get into that house, so don't make any explanations, don't perform any introductions. When his wife comes to the door, put on an act and we both go in, see?"

"Maybe we both go out," Drake said.

"What sort of woman is she?"

"A blonde. She does things with her eyes."

"Think she's on the up-and-up?"

"Not this baby. I've seen her only once, but I wouldn't trust her around the block. She has one of those baby stares veneered on a face that's hard as cement, if you know what I mean."

"I know what you mean," Mason told him. "The last time I saw an expression like that was on the face of a nineteen-year-old blackmailer." He chuckled and added, "While she was waiting in the outer office, I asked Della Street what she looked like, and Della said she looked like a synthetic virgin."

"That's the type," Drake said. "Only this dame is in the late thirties."

"Okay," Mason told him, "let's barge in."

They turned from the sidewalk, walked up the narrow strip of cement to the porch stairs. Mason hung behind while Drake climbed the stairs first and rang the bell.

A few moments later a woman wearing a printed house dress opened the door and said with over-effusive cordiality, "Why, it's Mr. Drake! Why, good morning, Mr. Drake! How do you do? Did you want to see George?"

Drake said, "Yes," and stepped forward.

For a moment the woman's eyes became hard as blue quartz, but her full red lips maintained a fixed smile. "He isn't here," she said.

"I'm to meet him here," Drake told her, very apparently waiting for her to move.

"Oh, all right," she said sullenly, and stepped to one side. As Mason was walking past her, she said, "Won't you gentlemen come in and sit down? When was George to meet you here?"

Mason selected a comfortable chair, caught Drake's questioning glance, and asked, "When did you see him last, Mrs. Belgrade?"

She turned to face Mason, her eyes cautious, her face expressionless. "You're Mr. Mason, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"I thought so."

"When did you last see your husband?"

"Why?"

"I just wanted to know."

"Not since last night. He couldn't get home. He was detained."

"How was he dressed when you last saw him?" Mason asked.

"Why do you want to know?"

The lawyer indicated Paul Drake and said, "After all, he's working for Mr. Drake. He's been out on a case. We want to talk with him."

"You mean," she asked Paul Drake, "that he's still working for you?"

"Of course."

"He thought perhaps you'd feel sore at what you read in the papers and…"

Her voice trailed away into silence, and Drake said, "Of course I'm sore; but, after all, he's still working for me."

Mason inquired again, "How was he dressed, Mrs. Belgrade?"

"Why, he wore his business suit, his blue serge suit."

Mason said casually, "Well, we're all subpoenaed to appear before the Federal Grand Jury this afternoon. I thought it might be a good plan for us to have an informal chat before they ask us questions."

A look of relief came over the woman's face. "Oh," she said, "that's it. Well, I'm glad you men feel that way. George had a chance to make some big money giving a story to the newspaper. He'd have been a chump not to have done it. I can understand how you gentlemen feel; but you must make allowances for a man who's working on wages. Both of you make big money. George doesn't. Lots of times we have to struggle along to make both ends meet."

Mason nodded. "Yes, I know how he must have felt. Too bad he got gypped."

She said bitterly. "That subpoena certainly put George on the skids. He was in a position to sell some follow-ups to the newspaper. Then this subpoena was served, and the newspaper wouldn't have anything more to do with him. They figure whatever he says now is going to become public property."

Mason nodded, said, "Uh-huh," looked at his watch, asked, "How soon were you expecting him?"

"He telephoned me about an hour ago and said he'd be home in an hour. I'm expecting him any minute. He wanted to change his clothes."

Drake looked at his wristwatch, then glanced across at Mason. Mrs. Belgrade said nervously, "I think he'll be here any minute now… That sounds like his car." The worn rivets on brake linings squeaked against drums as a dilapidated car swung wide in the street and turned into the driveway.

"There he is," Mrs. Belgrade said. Mason nodded, walked to the door.

Steps sounded on the porch. Mason pulled the door open and said to the heavy-set individual who was pounding his way across the porch, "Welcome home, George. Come in and join the party."

Belgrade came to a dead stop. Paul Drake appeared in the doorway beside Mason and said, "Well, don't stand there gawking. Come on in."

Belgrade slowly walked toward the door, his eyes glancing about him apprehensively as though he were seeking some means of escape.

"I'd feel the same way myself if I'd sold out a client," Paul Drake said.

"Skip it, Paul," Mason cautioned.

Belgrade, avoiding their eyes, entered the house. His wife came running across, flung her arms about him, and clung to him for several seconds.

Drake coughed, and they separated.

Belgrade said, "I'm sorry about this whole business, Mr. Mason. I owe you an apology. I know how you fellows must feel. You think I'm a two-time, chiseling crook."

Mason said, "Suppose we sit down and talk things over for a while, George. I've practiced law long enough to know that people are only human, after all."

Belgrade glanced across at his wife. "You got my things all ready, Flo?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Sit down, George," Drake said.

Belgrade kept his eyes fixed on his wife. "How about mixing up some Scotch and soda, Flo? Perhaps the gentlemen would like…"

"Would like nothing better than to have Mrs. Belgrade stay right here in the room," Mason said, grinning.

Belgrade looked puzzled.

"She might want to telephone a friend," Drake explained.

"Oh," Belgrade said.

When they were all seated, Belgrade looked across at Drake. "So I'm all washed up in the detective business, am I?" he asked.

"That depends," Mason told him, before Drake could answer. "We want you to tell us just how you happened to sell out, George. Perhaps it won't look so bad after we hear your side of it."

Belgrade turned to him. "You're certainly taking this mighty fine, Mr. Mason. You make me feel like an awful heel. I don't know as I can explain it, but I'd like to have you gentlemen understand my position. I haven't been working steady, and I have a wife to support, a house to keep up, and all sorts of expenses.

"Well, I went out on that gambling ship and walked right into the middle of a murder case. It's the first time I've ever stacked up against anything quite like it in all the time I've been working as an operative. I was tailing Sylvia Oxman, you'll remember, and when I'd followed her back to the wharf, Staples stepped up and said he'd been instructed to relieve me. That left me standing there, all washed up for the evening. I telephoned in my report, and Drake said that'd be all. I knew Drake was working for you, Mr. Mason, and I knew you were still out aboard the ship, so I thought I might do you a good turn by going back to the ship and seeing if I could help you."

Drake said, "Wait a minute, Belgrade. Do I understand you went back to the ship?"

Belgrade nodded. "That's right."

"Why?"

"I told you why. I wanted to see if I could help Mr. Mason."

Drake said, "Why the devil didn't you go on home after I told you you were through for the night?"

"Well," Belgrade explained, shifting uncomfortably in his chair, "… well, to tell you the truth, Mr. Drake, I may as well come clean. I knew that Mr. Mason kept you busy most of the time. I didn't think I stood very high with you. There were too many men ahead of me who copped off all the important jobs. You remember, you'd given me the job of tailing Sylvia Oxman's maid. The only reason I got into the big-time stuff was because the maid went to Sylvia. And as soon as I contacted Sylvia, you yanked me off the case and put Staples on. Well, I figured that I might be able to make a good impression with Mr. Mason and then perhaps he'd speak to you about keeping me on his work regularly. Then I'd get the important jobs."

Drake said, "If that's the case, how did it happen you…"

"Wait a minute," Mason interrupted, without taking his eyes from Belgrade's face, "let me handle this, Paul."

Drake started to say something, then checked himself, and settled back in his chair.

"Then what happened?" Mason asked.

"Well," Belgrade said, "by the time the speed boat got back to the ship, the landing-stage had been pulled up and they told us they were making some repairs to it, that it would only be for a few minutes, and for us to stand by. We stuck around there for some little time, and then a launch came out with officers aboard, and we heard there'd been a murder. They told us to turn around and put back to the wharf, that no one could come aboard, and there'd be no more gambling.

"That started me thinking. I was doing a lot of thinking all the way back to the wharf. When we arrived, a bunch of newspaper men who'd been rushed down were questioning everyone who came off the speed boats. Now, one of the reporters knew me and knew what I did for a living. He started asking me questions, and found out from what I told him that I could give him a story if I wanted to, so he took me in and telephoned his city editor and the city editor sent another man down to cover the story on the boat and had my friend take me into Los Angeles.

"They made me a proposition and it just meant so much to me I couldn't afford to turn it down. I didn't figure it made any great amount of difference to you fellows. They told me that Mr. Mason was aboard and had been arrested; that the whole story was bound to come out within the next twenty-four hours, but they wanted an exclusive on it. They said I didn't have anything to gain by keeping quiet, and that I was going to lose a lot of money if I didn't tell them. It sounded reasonable to me, so I told them what I knew. Then the editor got the idea he could string it out for a couple of follow-ups and wanted to keep me sewed up where no one could get at me. But one of the other reporters had seen what happened, and somehow the Federal District Attorney got tipped off to where I was. The newspaper tried to keep me under cover, and the United States Marshal's office kept trying to serve a subpoena. The marshal's office won out, and just as soon as they served that subpoena on me, the newspaper dropped me like a hot potato. They figured I couldn't be any good to them any more. I got a piece of change for the first story and that's all."

"How about that report you telephoned me?" Drake asked.

"What do you mean, how about it?" Belgrade asked.

"I want to know whether it was accurate."

Belgrade flushed. "Of course it was accurate. I told you the absolute truth. Just because I saw an opportunity to make a piece of change on the side without hurting anyone, doesn't mean that I'm a crook."

"Have you," Mason asked, "reported everything which happened out on the gambling ship?"

"Why, yes, of course-that is, I reported it to Mr. Drake over the telephone."

"You followed Sylvia Oxman out to the ship?"

"Yes."

"Now, how long was she aboard before she went down to the offices?"

"Not very long. I didn't keep an accurate count of the minutes. She went in and had a drink, checked her coat, and then went down to the offices."

"How long after that before I showed up?"

"I'd say about eight or ten minutes, but remember, Mr. Mason, before you showed up, Frank Oxman was prowling around there."

"How did you know…" Drake began, but was silenced by a warning glance from the lawyer.

"Then, after Oxman had left, I entered. Is that right?" Mason asked.

"That's right. Then, after you'd been in there for a while, Sylvia Oxman came out. Then Duncan and this deputy marshal dashed in there. Then in about ten minutes the marshal brought you out and you were handcuffed."

"Now, let's get this straight," Mason interposed. "Sylvia had already left the offices?"

"That's right."

"And you were supposed to be shadowing her?"

"Yes, sir, I was."

"But after she went out, you still continued to keep an eye on the offices. Now which were you doing, watching the offices or shadowing Sylvia?"

"Both, Mr. Mason. Mrs. Oxman had taken a seat at one of the crap tables. I stood where I could watch her and the entrance to the offices at the same time."

"All right, go on-tell me what else you saw."

"Well, Duncan came out, and then Mrs. Oxman went up on deck. I followed her up there."

"How long after you saw me leaving the offices was it that Duncan came out?"

"Three or four minutes-not very long."

"How long after that did Sylvia go up on deck?"

"Almost immediately, Mr. Mason."

"Then what?"

"That's all. I followed Mrs. Oxman ashore, and then Staples told me to check out…"

"Now, wait a minute," Mason interrupted. "Have you told us absolutely everything that happened, Belgrade?"

"Why, yes, as nearly as I can remember it."

"Did you speak to Sylvia?"

Belgrade's face twisted with sudden expression. "Yes, that's right I did tell Sylvia to beat it because her husband was aboard."

"Ah," Mason said. "Now we're getting somewhere. Just why did you tell Sylvia to beat it?"

Belgrade said, "I knew something was wrong. I didn't know what it was, but I could see that you were handcuffed when you came out of that office. Now, you're a big-time lawyer. No one's going to handcuff you unless something pretty serious has happened. I had an idea you were covering for Sylvia and that you'd want her off the ship, but I didn't know how to get her off. Then suddenly it occurred to me I could stick my head out the door and say, 'Your husband's aboard, beat it,' and then duck back out of sight, make a dash for the speed boat, and get myself aboard. I figured Sylvia would come rushing down from the deck and take that same speed boat. If she didn't, I could pretend I'd changed my mind and get off."

"And that's what you did?"

"Yes, sir. I ran down and got a seat in the speed boat and she followed within less than a minute."

"Now," Mason told him, "I'll ask a question Paul Drake was going to ask a minute ago. How did you happen to know Sylvia Oxman's husband?"

Belgrade twisted uneasily in his chair, glanced at his wife, then dropped his eyes to inspect the toes of his shoes.

"Go ahead," Mason told him. "You're in this thing pretty deep, George. Half-way measures won't get you out of it. You'll have to come clean."

Belgrade raised his eyes to Mason's. "I'd prefer not to answer that question, Mr. Mason."

"You'll have to."

"I'd be betraying a confidence someone had placed in me."

Drake's laugh was sarcastic. "You haven't shown any reticence about betraying confidences so far," he said.

"Shut up, Paul," Mason remarked, without taking his eyes from Belgrade's face. "What is it, George?"

"I worked for Frank Oxman," Belgrade blurted.

"When?"

"About a month ago."

"How long did you work for him?"

"A little over two weeks."

"How did you happen to work for him?"

"Oxman contacted an agency where I'd been doing some work," Belgrade said. "He was looking for an experienced operative. The agency took a cut and referred him to me.

"You understand how it is, Mr. Mason. Us detectives don't work steadily. We work by the job. For instance, you'll have a job for Drake's agency and Drake will hire ten or fifteen, or perhaps twenty of us boys who are registered with him. We're also registered with half a dozen other agencies. When we're not working for one agency we work for another. That enables us to work more or less steadily, but keeps the agencies from carrying a big pay-roll when they ain't busy."

"Then you register with various agencies in advance?" Mason asked.

"That's right."

"And you furnish references or something of that sort?"

"Oh, sure. We have to fill out a questionnaire, give references, tell all about our past employment, the amount of our experience, the type of work we're best adapted to, whether we can go out in evening clothes, whether we have a car of our own, and all that sort of stuff."

"Now, Frank Oxman wanted someone to shadow his wife?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you did the job?"

"Yes, sir."

"For how long?"

"Sixteen days, I think."

"What did you find out? Anything?" Mason asked.

Belgrade lowered his eyes. "I found out enough to sympathize with her," he said, "but sympathies don't put any butter on my bread. She's every inch a lady, but she's impulsive and she's out for a good time. A couple of times men picked her up on the gambling ship, and she played around a bit with them."

"What do you mean by playing around?"

"Nothing serious."

"You reported this to Frank Oxman?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you tell me about this?" Drake asked.

"I never had a chance to," Belgrade said. "You told me you wanted me to do some work on a case Mr. Mason was interested in. You simply told me to go out to a certain address and shadow the maid who was working there. And you gave me a description. I recognized the address as that of Oxman's house, but I supposed you were working on the maid. I didn't know you were after Mrs. Oxman. Then, after a while, when I telephoned in a report that the maid was starting out with a fur coat, you told me to tail her and switch to Mrs. Oxman in case the maid contacted her. Even then, I supposed Mr. Mason was working for Frank Oxman and was getting ready to bring a divorce case or something. But, after we got on the ship, and I saw Mr. Mason apparently taking a rap for Mrs. Oxman, I knew he wasn't working for Oxman and figured there must be bigger game at stake."

"That's a hell of an explanation," Drake said skeptically.

"But it's the truth," Belgrade insisted.

"Did you know Oxman had gone ashore before his wife left the gambling ship?" Mason asked.

"No, sir, I didn't. I thought Oxman was still on the ship."

Drake said, "As far as I'm concerned, Belgrade, you're finished with detective work. You're altogether too damned loquacious for a detective."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Drake. I tried to give you a square deal."

Mrs. Belgrade's voice was bitter. "Don't give him anything, George. He pays you eight dollars a day and expenses, and expects you to give him your soul."

"Shut up, Flo," Belgrade said tonelessly.

"I won't either shut up. I think it's an outrage! You work day and night, take all sorts of chances, and are out in all kinds of weather, and what does it get you? The first time you…"

"You keep out of this, Flo," Belgrade said, raising his voice. "Don't you understand Mr. Drake can fix it so no other agency will ever employ me?"

"Well, what if he does? You got out of the detective business once, and you can get out of it again. There's lots of ways to make a living without working for a bunch of slave-drivers, who don't appreciate honesty when they see it."

"Did you see Sylvia Oxman toss a gun overboard?" Mason asked Belgrade, interrupting.

"No, sir, I didn't."

"Could she have done so without you seeing her?"

"I guess so. Yes. You see, I thought she'd taken a tumble to me. I wanted to get her off the gambling ship, and I wanted to be in the same speed boat she took; but I didn't want her to see me. I knew my only chance was to figure what speed boat she was going to take, and get aboard first. If I followed her down to the speed boat, I figured she might take a tumble. I just did the best I could, Mr. Mason."

Mason nodded to Drake and said, "I think that's all, Belgrade. Come on, Paul. Let's let Belgrade change his clothes."

"They've served you with a subpoena?" Belgrade asked Mason.

The lawyer avoided the question, saying easily as he started for the door: "You'll want to make a good impression with that Federal Grand Jury, George. I'm going to talk with Mr. Drake about you. The more I think things over, the more I realize you were placed in a very peculiar situation, one which wouldn't confront a detective once in ten years. I can understand just how you felt."

Drake's fingers closed about the lawyer's elbow. "Come on, Perry," he said.

"You're one swell guy, Mr. Mason," Belgrade said. "Do you forgive me, Mr. Drake?"

Mason said, "Don't press that question now, George. I'll have a chat with him and then we'll let you know the answer."

"Thanks a lot, Mr. Mason. I can't begin to tell you how much I appreciate the way you're taking this."

As the two men walked from the house, they could hear Florence Belgrade's voice rising in machine-gun rapidity. A door slammed shut, cutting off the sound. Drake remarked with feeling, "I wish you'd let me cut loose on that rat."

"No," Mason told him, "we can't afford to antagonize him now. He's important. He's going to be about the most important witness who'll appear before the Federal Grand Jury. It might be a lot better to have him feeling friendly toward our side of the case, Paul. He's already received his money from the newspaper. Personally, I don't blame him too much. I know just how he felt. He'd been working on a salary, and suddenly had an opportunity to make a wad of dough by telling something to a newspaper that he thought wouldn't make any particular trouble for anyone."

Drake said, "I wish to hell I knew why you're so damned anxious to stick up for Belgrade."

"Because," Mason told him, "I make my living by dealing with people. Remember, Paul, if Belgrade was a man of outstanding ability, without any soft spots in his make-up, you couldn't hire him to work for you at eight dollars a day. You have to make allowances for people. Belgrade sold us out. That's admitted. He did it, not because he had anything against us, but because he needed the money. Now then, he's already received that money. He's facing the future. His ability to get work in the future depends a lot on placating you. If you let him feel, in advance, you're going to turn him down cold, he'll turn against you and be bitter. If you let him feel that you're holding his case under advisement, he'll do anything in the world to accommodate you. That means that when he gets in front of the Grand Jury he'll be trying to say what you want him to say-that is, as far as it's in accord with his recollection."

"Well," Drake admitted, "I see your point. But, as far as I'm concerned, he can go to hell. He sold us out."

The men walked to the corner in silence. Mason said, "Well, here are the cars, Paul. I guess I hadn't better stick around this neighborhood."

"Where are you going, Perry?"

"Oh, places," Mason said casually.

Drake stared steadily at him. "You're not going to the Christy Hotel, are you?"

"Why?"

"I have an idea you're figuring on calling on Frank Oxman."

"So what?"

"Don't do it," Drake said earnestly. "That man's dangerous, and you're already in one hell of a hot spot, Perry."

"It won't get any cooler if I stick around in that one spot," Mason told him.

"Well, lay off Frank Oxman. He's dangerous… Oh, by the way, Perry, I think we've found out who's backing him."

Mason, looking up and down the street to make certain there were no radio cars in sight, said, "All right, Paul. Give it to me fast."

"We're keeping a tail on Oxman, just as you instructed," Drake said, "and we find that he telephoned a man by the name of Carter C. Squires, at the Poindexter Hotel. Squires is the head of a gambling ring that dopes race horses, fixes prize fights, and bets on sure things. He spends most of his time in the lobby of the Poindexter and hanging around the bar. Incidentally, he has a police record somewhere, and he's crooked as a corkscrew, but he has money. He finances a lot of crooked schemes and takes a big cut. Oxman talked with Squires on the telephone. He seemed in an awful lather trying to get the call through."

"You couldn't get in on the conversation?" Mason asked.

"No, I couldn't. But Oxman was talking for almost ten minutes."

"That was after he went to the Christy Hotel?"

"Yes."

"Well," Mason said slowly, "I think I'll take a chance on Oxman, at that… I have a little surprise for Oxman… I want to see how he can take it. So far, he's only been dishing it out."