Read 1972 - You're Dead Without Money for Free Online Page A

lipless mouth revealed white teeth in a smile that didn’t reach the eyes.
    ‘I want Claude,’ Elliot said. ‘Hurry it up, Louis. I’m busy too.’
    ‘Of course . . . a tiny moment.’
    Elliot watched him weave his way gracefully down the long aisle that led to Kendrick’s reception room. Kendrick refused to call this room in which he did all his big deals an office: a vast room with a picture window looking on to the sea, sumptuously furnished with some of the most impressive and expensive antiques that Claude possessed with paintings worth a fortune hanging on the silk covered walls.
    While he waited, Elliot moved uneasily around the vast gallery examining the various objets d’art set out temptingly in glass cases. During the three minutes he waited he spotted several things he felt the urge to buy, but he knew Kendrick never gave credit no matter how important the client.
    Louis minced towards him.
    ‘Please come. . . Claude is so happy! You know, Mr. Elliot, you have been neglecting us. It must be four months since you have visited us.’
    ‘Yeah.’ Elliot followed Louis’s slim back. He entered Kendrick’s reception room.
    Claude Kendrick was standing by the window, staring down at the sea. He turned as Elliot came in and his fat face creased into a smile.
    What a freak!’ Elliot thought. ‘That godawful wig! He’s fatter than ever!’
    ‘My very dear Don,’ Kendrick said and enfolded Elliot’s hand in both his. Elliot felt as if his hand had been thrust into a bowl of warm, slightly moist dough. ‘How very good to see you again. You’re naughty to have neglected me. How is the poor foot . . . the poor darling?’
    ‘I wouldn’t know,’ Elliot said. ‘They dropped it in the furnace, I believe.’ Moving away from Kendrick’s overpowering massiveness, he sank on to a Louis XVI settee. ‘How are things with you?’
    ‘Fair . . . let us say we don’t grumble. We have much to be thankful for. And you, dear Don, how are things with you?’ Kendrick paused, putting his head on one side and a sly look came into his little eyes. ‘I heard about that dreadful Meyer - what a horrible man! I heard he won’t renew your contract. That man! I wouldn’t sell him one single thing in my beautiful gallery. He came to me once. He actually tried to bargain with me! There are people I can deal with and people I just can’t. There are people who fill me with revulsion. Meyer is that sort of people. You understand . . . of course you do! Is it true he won’t renew your contract?’
    ‘He would be crazy if he did,’ Elliot said. ‘Meyer’s all right. He’s in business to make money like you and me. I’ve got a tin foot, Claude, and that puts paid to my racket. I don’t blame Meyer. I’d have done the same thing if I had been in his place.’
    ‘There’s no pity in this horrid world.’ Kendrick grimaced. ‘But what am I thinking of? A little champagne . . . a whisky? Do have something?’
    ‘No, thanks.’
    There was a pause as Kendrick lowered his bulk into a special chair he had designed for himself: a wing backed chair, cleverly designed as an antique but reinforced with steel and covered with what looked like a Gobelin but was in fact a brilliant fake.
    ‘Louis tells me you are busy so I won’t keep you,’ Elliot went on. ‘You remember that jade collection you sold me?’
    ‘The jade? Of course.’ Kendrick’s eyes turned watchful. ‘A beautiful set. Do you want it cleaned, dear Don? Jade needs cleaning once in a while. It is so easy to neglect one’s treasures.’
    ‘I don’t want it cleaned . . . I want to sell it.’
    Kendrick took off his wig, polished his baldhead with a silk handkerchief, then replaced the wig a little crookedly.
    ‘You look a hell of a sight in that goddamn wig,’ Elliot said with a burst of irritation.
    ‘It has a psychological effect on me,’ Kendrick said. ‘When I lost all my hair I was in despair. You have no idea, cheri, how I suffered. I have always