“By gosh,” Ashbury said, “if Bob thought of that, he’s a lot cleverer than I gave him credit for.”
“He didn’t.”
“Who did?”
“I don’t know... probably an attorney by the name of Crumweather, who also worked out a scheme for beating the Blue Sky Act.”
“Is the scheme legal?”
“Probably not, the way they’re working it. That’s why Bob’s president.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that method of salesmanship?”
“No. It’s damn clever.”
Ashbury drew a handkerchief across his forehead. “And to think that I was so damn dumb — so eager to keep out of the boob’s business confidences — I didn’t see what was happening.”
I didn’t say anything.
After a while he said, “What are you planning to do, Lam?”
“How badly do you want to keep Bob out of jail?”
“No matter what happens,” he said, “we can’t have anything like that.”
“I thought I’d run up to Valleydale for a day or two.”
“Why?”
“That’s where they’re operating.”
“What do you expect to find up there?”
“I might find the records of the old dredging company dealing with a survey of the land they dredged.”
“Then what?”
“If I could get them,” I said, “and they show what I think they’ll show, I’ll make a deal with the lawyer — but I don’t think I can get them.”
“Why not?”
“The brain that thought up that sales canvass and beating the Blue Sky Act has probably taken care of all that.”
“What else will you do?”
“Look the ground over and try and find the crooked part of the scheme.”
“And while you’re gone, how about — er — this other matter?”
“This other matter,” I said, “is getting hot, too hot for me to handle right now without getting my fingers burnt. I thought I’d stay away for a day or so and let it cool off.”
“I’m not certain I like that. Alta telephoned a little while after you’d left. She said that she thought you were coming back, that you’d just gone to the garage with me. She wants to see you. She’s worried — she’s — dammit, Donald, we’re all coming to depend on you.”
“That’s what I’m hired for.”
“I know, but this is different. Alta would be lost if you left.”
“Alta has to leave, too.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“You mean go with you?”
“No. Go some place. Visit someone. Spend a few days with some out-of-town friend — and don’t let anyone know where she’s going.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want anyone asking her questions until I know a few more answers.”
“Then why are you going away?”
I said, “Detectives are on my trail right now. They’re checking up — do you want me to tell you what they’re after?”
“No.”
“All right, then. I’ll tell you what I’m going to do, and what you can do.”
He thought for a minute, took a cigar from his pocket, clipped the end off, and struck a match. “When are you going?” he asked.
“Now.”
“Where can I get in touch with you?”
“It’s better that you don’t. If anything comes up, get in touch with Bertha Cool.”
“But you’re going up to Valleydale?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t know how long you’ll be gone?”
“No.”
“You’ll be going out to the house to pack up some things and—”
“I won’t be going anywhere to pack up anything. I’m going over to the garage, get the agency car, and get started. I’ll buy what clothes I need.”
“You’re leaving right away?”
“Just one thing I have to attend to.”
“What’s that?”
“Winding up Mr. Fischler’s business transaction.”
“I can drive you up to the Commons Building.”
“Let’s telephone first,” I said. “Wait here. I’ll be back.”
There was a public telephone in the gas station at the parking lot. I called up the number Elsie Brand had given me. She answered the phone. “Hear anything?” I asked.
She said, “You must have thought they didn’t want your money.”
“Why?”
“You said they’d tell you you had until about two o’clock this afternoon.”
“What did they say?”
She said, “The salesman’s been here twice. He’s coming back in ten minutes. He said to tell you that he could put it across, but the time expired at one.”
I said, “Stick around. I’m going to draw up the option agreement.”
“He has one with him.”
“I don’t think I’ll like it.”
“Do you want me to tell him?”
“No. Just stick around. I’m coming right up.”
I walked back to the car and said to Ashbury, “Okay, drive me up to the Commons Building if you will — or I can take a taxi.”
“No. I want to keep my finger on the pulse of things.”
Ashbury waited outside while I went up to the office. Rich was waiting for me when I came in. He pumped my hand up and down, and said, “Congratulations, Mr. Fischler! The shrewdest buying brain I’ve contacted in fifteen years of salesmanship. You win!”
He took my arm and piloted me into the private office as though he owned the joint. He whipped a stock certificate out of his pocket and said, “There you are. One share. Here you are. An option agreement duly signed by the president and secretary of the company.”
“You work fast,” I said.
“I had to, to put a deal like that across. They hit the ceiling, but I explained to them that your money wasn’t available right at the moment, that you were a hundred per cent sold, that you’d make us a good stockholder, that you—”
He kept on talking, but I quit listening. I was reading the option agreement. To my surprise, it was exactly what I had instructed him to have. I signed an okay on the duplicate option agreement, gave him one thousand dollars, and put the share of stock and original option agreement in my pocket. The option was signed by Robert Tindle as president and E. E. Matts, secretary. I shook hands with Rich, told him I had an appointment, and eased him out of the office. I said to Elsie, “Remember, you’re to keep the office open until I get back.”
“Where are you going?”
“I’m out of town on a business trip.”
“You explained to Bertha about the work?”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
“It’s all right.”
“Then I’m to sit here and just read magazines?”
“That’s right. Do a little sewing if you want to. Smoke cigarettes during office hours, and chew gum. That’s the sort of business this is, one of those happy-go-lucky affairs.”
She laughed. “I’ll feel like a kept woman.”
“That’s what I want you to look like,” I said. “Get the idea?”
Her eyes flashed me a smile. She said, “Good luck, Donald.”
“Keep your fingers crossed,” I said, and went out to tell Ashbury I was all ready to go. He insisted on driving me over to the garage where Bertha Cool kept the office car. His eyes were wistful as I pulled away into traffic.
Chapter nine
Valleydale had at one time been something about which a Chamber of Commerce could wax eloquent. The mountains, covered with digger pine, chaparral, manzanita, and, lower down, with big live oaks, broke into peaceful rolling hills, then into what had once been a fertile agricultural valley.
Now, it was a mass of rocks, piled in serrated ridges where the conveyor belts of the gold dredgers had dumped them. They were rounded rocks that had been worn by ancient glaciers and rivers. They were the bones of what had at one time been huge boulders, and now they glistened in the sunlight like bleached bones in the desert. Here and there an attempt had been made to level off the ground and plant orchards. On the rolling hillsides which the dredgers hadn’t touched, the massive oaks cast dark pools of inviting shadow. The slopes were broken here and there with bits of vineyard and, in places, with the green of orchards. They gave a clue to what the country must have been at one time.