West 47th by Gerald A Browne Read Free Book Online Page A

Carlo himself. It’s not that sweet. Besides it wasn’t in Carlo’s Neapolitan nature to overlook signing.”
    Such was the extensive know-how, know-where and know-who Mitch offered the insurance companies when eight years ago at age thirty he decided to sell them his services. They didn’t snap him right up. Typically they pretended to be mulling it over for a month or two, tried to negotiate with him, claimed he was too costly and not really needed.
    Mitch stuck to his conditions, sure they would come around. Fidelity Eastern was the first to retain him. Within a week all the others fell into line.
    He’d done well by them. Columbia Beneficial especially. He’d worked ten of Columbia’s major jewelry theft cases, made three total recoveries and two partials.
    That wasn’t to imply that his association with Columbia was close.
    Anything but.
    There was a bitterness towards Columbia in him, a personal thing that refused to be swallowed and digested by time. In Mitch’s opinion all insurance companies were arctic-hearted, egregiously slick and one-way, but Columbia was the champion fine-printer of the bunch.
    As for Keith Ruder, the person at Columbia he mainly dealt with, Mitch managed to keep him remote. He’d broken and parried so many luncheon invitations from Ruder that they’d finally stopped being extended, were reduced to the automatic and unmistakably insincere suggestion that they get together sometime soon.
    At this moment there was Ruder on the other end of the line trying to sound buddy-buddy, forcing it, flavoring his tone with what he hoped was coming across as amiable conspiracy. It made Mitch think that this Kalali case, for some reason, was personally crucial for Ruder. Perhaps too many such large losses had piled up in Ruder’s corner; maybe he was feeling the cold of an early, less compensating retirement hot on his neck.
    â€œI assume you want me to get on this Kalali loss,” Mitch said.
    â€œI’d appreciate it.”
    â€œBy now these pieces may have gone first-class carry-on to London or anywhere.”
    â€œThink so?”
    Mitch really didn’t but told Ruder: “Could be.”
    â€œWell …” A resigned sigh from Ruder. “… I suppose there’s only so much to hope for. Can’t expect a miracle.”
    â€œThat’s what it would take.”
    â€œNevertheless you might as well sniff around a bit.”
    â€œWhat if I recover?”
    â€œThat would certainly be a blessing.”
    Blessings and miracles, Mitch thought. “I mean what would be in it for me?”
    â€œYour usual percentage, of course. Three percent.”
    A hundred and eighty thousand. Fair enough, but out it came, pushed out by that old score that could probably never be settled by any amount: “I’ve raised my percentage to five.”
    â€œSince when?”
    â€œI notified you. Surely you received my letter.” There’d been no letter, but there would be.
    Ruder reverted to type, got huffy. “Five is exorbitant.”
    â€œNot when you consider …”
    â€œFive is out of the question!”
    The money would be from Columbia’s deep pocket, not Ruder’s. Mitch figured that would come to Ruder in about ten seconds.
    It took twelve.

Chapter 4
    â€œDo you see him, Billy?”
    â€œNo, Mrs. Laughton. Wonder what color suit he put on this morning.”
    â€œIt felt to me like one of his grays. Don’t drive fast.”
    â€œI’m crawling.”
    â€œYou are over on the left aren’t you?”
    â€œAll the way.”
    â€œHe should be there. What time is it?”
    â€œI’ve got ten of. The car says twelve of.”
    â€œWe’re early. Go around.”
    â€œI could wait near the corner with the motor running.”
    â€œDo as you want but I’m not going to pay your damn tickets.”
    â€œThey’re as much yours as mine, Mrs.