Blood on the Street (A Smith and Wetzon Mystery, #4)

a quick exit.
    “Before we get into that, you’d better sit down and ask me what Rona said.”
    “Rona?” Smith turned her chair around and sat down, crossing her long legs. “Oh, the drinkie-poo. Is it even worth discussing?”
    “Smith, Rona’s going back to Bliss Norderman. In fact, she’s sitting there as we speak.”
    Smith’s reaction was a low moan that began undulating into a shriek. “After all we did for her. Didn’t you tell her it was a terrible mistake?”
    “I did, but it’s hard to argue someone out of a sexual tie as long as this one.”
    “Oh, for pitysakes. It didn’t seem to stop her from moving initially.”
    “That was because of Brian. If you remember, they were moving together, then Brian changed his mind. Do you think he knew about Maglia?” She wasn’t really looking for a response from Smith. She suddenly knew that Brian had been serious about moving to Loeb Dawkins because he’d found out about Maglia and Rona. He had to have given Maglia the check to buy himself out.
    “Out the window. All that effort. Neil is going to try to get us to give some of the money back.” She spun around and flipped the pages of her calendar.
    “It’s past ninety days. Let’s try to stand firm.”
    “God will get her for this. There’s always a payback in this business if you live long enough.”
    “Okay, let’s put that crap behind us. Eliot has a fantastic operation, but he wants to pay us a flat fifty.”
    Smith was outraged. “That’s a paltry five percent on a mil. Didn’t you tell him we don’t work that way?”
    “I pointed that out to him.”
    “I knew I should have come with you.”
    It was Wetzon’s turn to be outraged. “Excuse me? Do you honestly think his proposal would have been different if you were there?”
    “Well, don’t get so hot about it, sugar.”
    “I told him I’d discuss it with you, but his proposal was not appropriate. We worked out a sliding scale up to seventy-five k, but he wouldn’t budge over that.”
    “Then we won’t do it.”
    “I want to do it. He’s got something special there, and he knows it. I think the gorillas would be impressed. Besides ...”
    “Besides?” Smith stood with her back to Wetzon, watching Philip work.
    “Besides, if we don’t agree, he’s got Tom Keegen and Harold warming up in the bullpen. I’ve got to get back to him before lunch.”
    Smith turned in a fury, stamping her foot. “I’ve had just about enough of those two. Call Eliot. Tell him we’ll do it, but only for old times’ sake.”
    “Funny, that’s what he said. Did you and little Eliot ever get anything on?”
    Smith went into the bathroom and slammed the door. Wetzon laughed. She didn’t know what made Smith angrier, Tom Keegen and Harold, having their fees capped, or Wetzon teasing her. Sighing, Wetzon called McConnell and told him they had a handshake deal. As if nothing had happened, Smith exited the bathroom fluffing her hair and humming, looking like the cat that feasted on the canary. Now what was she up to? The best thing was to confront her.
    B. B.’s announcement that the market had moved up thirty-five points in the first hour, and a feeding frenzy had begun, encompassing not just the blue chips but even the secondaries, which had not moved at all in recent months, blunted Wetzon’s purpose. A hundred and eighty million shares had already changed hands, and it wasn’t even noon. Max hovered behind B. B. in the doorway, curious.
    “We’re not going to get a hell of a lot done today. I can see that.” Wetzon nodded to Smith, throwing the ball to her. “We can play catch-up today.”
    “Make a few calls anyway,” Smith said. “You never know ...” She closed their door. “Is everything okay with Joan Boley?”
    “I guess. I should call her.” Wetzon picked up the phone and punched in the numbers.
    “Did you talk to Twoey?”
    “I will.” She listened to the ringing.
    “You promised.”
    “I will. Don’t nag.”
    “Humpf.” She pulled her coat from the file cabinet. “I’m going to get my nails done. How about we go together? You’ll be spinning your wheels here today. Anyone worthwhile is going to be too busy to talk.”
    “I have to run up to the apartment and meet my contractor. Joan Boley, please.”
    “Well, see you later, then.” Smith sailed out of the office without even waiting to hear about Joan Boley.
    “Joan Boley.” Joan sounded frantic.
    “Joan, this is Wetzon. Is this a bad