“I’m looking for Mr. Wilcox,” said Moose.
“Top floor, last bell,” she said and closed her door.
Then Moose noticed a row of mailboxes, and he pushed the button under the name. Almost immediately there was an answering “Hello” through the speaking tube.
“I’m Moose Carter, Mr. Wilcox,” he called into the tube. “I spoke to you on the phone.”
“Come on up.”
His initial misgivings were immediately allayed as he stepped inside. The room was large and well-furnished. There was an Oriental rug on the floor and oil paintings in heavy gold frames on the walls; large overstuffed chairs were scattered around the room, and facing a large window, from which could be seen the neighboring rooftops, was a massive sofa. Nearby was a marble-topped desk in carved mahogany and behind it a black-leather modern swivel chair set on a chrome pedestal.
Wilcox himself was not what Moose had expected. With his flannel slacks and tweed jacket, he reminded him of a youngish professor, like some of the ones he had known in college. His brown hair was cut close and showed signs of graying at the temples; his manner, easy and friendly.
“Some view you’ve got here,” said Moose, approaching the window.
“I like it,” said Wilcox. “I like to sit on that sofa there and just look out over the rooftops. Very relaxing.”
“It’s nice,” said Moose. “I wouldn’t have…” He stopped.
“Expected it? You mean from the appearance of the street? A lot of these houses are being bought and fixed up, like this one.” He smiled, and it was a nice smile. “It’s a sort of private slum reclamation project. This apartment here belonged to an artist friend of mine. He took a long-term lease and fixed it up as a studio, which accounts for the picture window. Then he decided to go to Europe. It’s actually in a convenient part of the city here.”
“This your office, Mr. Wilcox?”
The other eyed him speculatively and then said. “I do some business here.” He motioned Moose to the sofa and then sat down at the other end, facing him. “You said you were interested in working with us.”
“That’s right, sir.”
“Well, the stuff we deal in is not hard to get in the city, and there are plenty of people, retailers, who buy the stuff on their own from Tom, Dick, or Harry, and I guess maybe they make out all right. But we don’t operate that way. We’re an organization. Maybe at first it looks as though it might cost you a little bit more, but our people think it’s worth it. When you buy from us, you can be sure the stuff is good. You don’t have to worry whether it’s mixed with oregano or catnip or worse, which could get you into a lot of trouble. You get any customers for other kinds of stuff we can supply them, but when we sell grass, grass is what you get. That’s the way I like to operate.
“There are advantages to working with an organization.” Wilcox went on. “We keep the competition down. Somebody comes in town and gets a supply, passes it on to his friends, or maybe sells it at his cost, we don’t bother with that. But someone coming into your territory who is an operator, well—we take care of it. And then there are times when you get into trouble, and if it can be fixed, we’ll fix it. Of course, one reason we’d like to have you with us is that the kids all know you and you can operate on a friendly basis with customers in your hometown, and that’s a good thing.”
Moose hesitated. “How about—”
Wilcox nodded. “Yes, the territory has been assigned already, but we’re not entirely satisfied with the way it’s been operated. Then you can argue that the territory has grown too big for one man.” He reflected. “Maybe that would be the best angle. You need two to really work a good territory. So you can go and see him and tell him we said you’re to come in with him. The arrangement will be a straight fifty-fifty split. Of course, he’s paid for his present stock, so you could offer to work that off on a commission or a percentage basis. Say a quarter. I’d say that would be about right. A quarter on the old stock and a half on the new. We’ll see how that goes for a while, and then maybe we’ll make some changes.”
“What kind of changes?”
Wilcox pursed his lips. “Well, if things go the way I’m hoping, there’s no reason you couldn’t handle it yourself some day. So we’d transfer him—that’s right, we’d transfer him to another territory. That’s kind of our regular policy. We transfer him to another territory.” Wilcox opened a cigarette box on the coffee table and offered Moose a cigarette.
“When would I start?” asked Moose, lighting up.
“What’s wrong with right away? Tomorrow, day after, tonight if you can arrange it.”
“Well, when will you talk to him? I mean when are you going to let him know?”
Wilcox smiled. “I figured on you telling him.”
“Me? But—but what if he doesn’t believe me?”
“Well. I was counting on you to make him believe you. You might consider it a kind of test. Yes, that’s what it is—a kind of test. You take an operation like ours, we don’t have too much staff. Every man operates on his own. We can’t have a man calling up the home office every time he runs into a little problem. So—you’ve got your instructions; you look like a persuasive lad”—he eyed Moose’s size and smiled—“you’ll know what to do. Of course, if he does contact us, we’ll tell him what the situation is.”
“Oh, sure, Mr. Wilcox. I understand. And I’d like you to know that I appreciate this chance, and I’ll do my best—”
Wilcox smiled sardonically. “I mean it, sir. I—”
Wilcox cut him off with a wave of the hand. “Everybody tries to knock a little off the top. We expect it. Just don’t get greedy.” He reached for his wallet. “You need a little expense money to tide you over?”
“I can manage.”
Wilcox riffled through a sheaf of bills and then drew out two new twenties. “Well, call it an advance. Just a minute.” He left the room but returned almost immediately with a plastic tobacco pouch, which he tossed to Moose. “There’s an ounce package. You can consider this a kind of promotion package, uh—samples. There’s no charge for this. But after this, everything is cash on the barrelhead. Get it?”
“Oh sure. And thanks.”
Wilcox went over to the cigarette box and pressed a catch on the side. The top tray of cigarettes swiveled to one side, exposing another layer of cigarettes underneath—somewhat irregular in shape and obviously homemade. “Have a couple for yourself.” he offered.
“Gee, that’s neat.”
Wilcox smiled. “A gimmick. Nothing to rely on if cops get around to actually looking.” Moose picked up a cigarette from the box, rolled it in his fingers, and sniffed deeply.
“I don’t think you’d better smoke it here. Take a few with you. You got a cigarette case? Wait a minute.” He searched in the desk drawer and brought out a flat cigarette case of German silver. He slid a number of the cigarettes inside the elastic band of the case. “Here.” he said. As Moose reached for it he had another thought. From the top tray of the cigarette box he took several ordinary cigarettes and slid them alongside the others. “Now you got an assortment.” he said.
Chapter Twenty-One
Much of the beach was rocky, and what sand there was was coarse and gravelly. But it was secluded. Principally that was because it was situated on a kind of peninsula, and when the tide was in—which would be shortly—it was surrounded by water on three sides. Broken branches from the stand of pines provided plenty of wood for a fire; and driftwood was plentiful, too, since the point jutted out into the current.