The Erection Set by Mickey Spillane Page B

interested. They’re all available, you know. Well, almost all.”
    â€œOh?”
    Walt inclined his head to the comer of the room where the blonde I had met on the way in was perched on the arm of a chair, talking to the pumpkin of a man who was one of the bigger paperback book publishers. “That one. Little iron pants. A sexual Molotov cocktail and nobody can get a match to her fuse.”
    â€œSounds interesting.”
    â€œTiring is the word. Even the experts gave up on her. One was a psychiatrist and even he couldn’t reach a conclusion. Right now she has Raul flipping his lid. Until he tangled with her he thought he was the epitome in conquering maleness.”
    â€œI heard her take him down. Everything she tell him true?”
    â€œEverything. I can vouch for it. She left me hanging on the ropes too. Come on over and say hello. Let’s see what kind of impression you can make.”
    â€œLet’s not. She’s a little young for this dog.”
    â€œConsider it a change of pace.”
    â€œSuit yourself.”
    The pumpkin publisher acknowledged our introduction and left to chase down his newest acquisition who had come in like a summer storm surrounded by effete young men.
    Walt said, “Sharon Cass, Dog Kelly. I’m making it formal.” He smiled in my direction. “Sharon objects to casual associations.”
    Those big, brown eyes looked into mine with a twinkle and she held out her hand. “Walt’s always running me down, Mr. Kelly.”
    â€œCall me Dog. It’s easier.”
    â€œHe tell you about my iron pants yet, Dog?”
    â€œWhy sure.”
    â€œHe’s a real squealer. It’s better when they find out for themselves.”
    â€œWatch it,” Walt said. “One day somebody’s going to carry a can opener.”
    She took her hand away gently and tilted her head at me. “Someday.”
    Sharon Cass was beautiful. She was different. The beauty was as much internal as physical, but the one inside her seemed to be carefully repressed. Her hair was a tinted blonde that shimmered in soft waves around her shoulders, accentuating the full maturity of a lithe, sensual body. The miniskirt over her crossed legs ended at midthigh, lush offerings shaped to perfection, unashamedly exposed. She was frank and direct, not coming at you like most women would, and I had to laugh at her. “Walt said you’d be a change of pace.”
    â€œNot very flattering of him.”
    â€œWhy don’t you guys talk,” Walt broke in. “I have to go play host.”
    We watched him leave, then Sharon toasted us with her cocktail and said, “I think Walt deliberately sicced you on me, Dog.”
    I looked at her, puzzled.
    â€œEarlier I conned him out of five million dollars for a coproduction movie deal with Cable Howard Productions.”
    â€œJust like that?”
    â€œLike a lamb to the slaughter. My boss expected it to be a matter of intrigue, with the deal to be consummated in Walt’s silken-sheeted bedchamber.” She let out a little-girl giggle. “Instead, he was very nice about it. Now I think he’s avenging his actions.”
    â€œWhat the hell kind of business are you in?” I asked her.
    â€œSkin and celluloid. Cable Howard makes movies. Good ones, bad ones, but all money-makers. Walt knows he’ll double his investment.”
    â€œAnd you have to put out to con in the investors?”
    â€œIt’s not a new game, Dog. Anyway, I play it by my own rules.”
    â€œDamn!”
    â€œDon’t tell me you’re a moralist,” she said softly.
    â€œI don’t buy into anything under those conditions.”
    â€œAnd how do you buy in?”
    Her expression was one of open curiosity.
    I felt my teeth showing in a tight grimace. “Forget it. Maybe I am a moralist. I have my own rules too.”
    â€œWill they work?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œI understand