Cat on a Cold Tin Roof by Mike Resnick Read Free Book Online Page B

out of the misery of pretending to be law-abiding Malcolm Pepperidge?”
    â€œPerish the thought,” replied Sorrentino. “I spoke to him a few days ago, and everything was copacetic.”
    â€œThen why are you still in town?” I asked, puzzled.
    He shot me his biggest grin of all. “Because I couldn’t see no reason why you and I shouldn’t make a quick ten million dollars.”

5.
    For just a minute I thought I was going to choke on my coffee.
    â€œCalm down, Mr. Paxton,” said Sorrentino with an amused smile. “You look like you’re about to have a stroke.”
    I got the coffee down and wiped my mouth off with my sleeve.
    â€œYou shouldn’t tell jokes like that when there’s food or drink on the table,” I said.
    His smile vanished. “I’m not joking.”
    â€œTen million?” I said, and he nodded his head. “Okay, you’re not joking—you’re delusional.”
    â€œYou wanna hear me out, or you wanna make cute remarks?”
    I stared at him. He didn’t look like a raving lunatic. But talking eight digits to a guy who couldn’t afford a new transmission for his twelve-year-old car wasn’t the mark of a man who was on the level and playing with all his marbles.
    â€œWell?” he said.
    â€œI suppose it’s just good manners to hear you out,” I replied. “Ten million, you say?”
    He shrugged. “It’s a ballpark figure. Could be as low as eight million, could be as high as twelve or thirteen.”
    â€œWhose is it?”
    â€œRight at the moment, probably nobody’s,” answered Sorrentino.
    â€œMaybe you’d better begin at the beginning,” I suggested, as the waitress arrived with my steak and eggs.
    â€œJust coffee for me, Toots,” said Sorrentino. I was almost surprised that the glare she gave him didn’t knock him over. “What do you know about Big Jim?”
    â€œI never heard of him until two days ago,” I said. “Under either of his names.”
    â€œHe was a straight shooter,” said Sorrentino, “and a really good guy. A hell of a lot nicer than that bitch he married, that Velma, though she was quite a looker twenty years ago. Anyway, Big Jim was as honest as the day is long.”
    â€œI thought he worked for the mob.”
    â€œSo let me qualify that. He was loyal to his employers, never stole or misplaced a nickel, and would have gone into stir before he ratted them out, though of course it never came to that.”
    â€œOkay, he was one of Nature’s noblemen,” I said.
    â€œAbsolutely,” said Sorrentino with something akin to passion. “You couldn’t ask for a straighter shooter.”
    â€œHe shot people?”
    â€œFigure of speech,” he added. “Anyway, the man was a financial genius. And then one day he just walked away from it. Turned over all the books and all the money to my bosses, said he’d had enough, that he didn’t feel like a criminal but rather an accountant and financial advisor. He didn’t think the cops or the feds would see it that way, and he wanted to get out while the getting was good.”
    â€œAnd they let him go?”
    â€œHe’d tripled their money, and this was how they showed their gratitude.”
    â€œThat’s better than some New York families I’ve heard about.”
    â€œSo he sold his place up in Lake Forest, changed his name legally, and he and Velma just vanished. My bosses spent a year tracking him down, just in case they ever needed him again, but they never made contact with him. In fact, he couldn’t believe his eyes when I showed up.”
    â€œSo you showed up, he convinced you he wasn’t turning state’s evidence . . .”
    â€œ. . . and that was that,” concluded Sorrentino.
    â€œBut it wasn’t ,” I pointed out. “You’re still here.”
    â€œOne moment,” he said