Kisser (2010)

it. “At fifty dollars a share. Do you have a pen, Sig?”
    Larsen nearly broke an arm extracting a pen from his jacket pocket and handing it to her. “I will get you that price,” he said. “I must say, I had expected a cashier’s check.”
    “You think my personal check isn’t good, Sig?” Mitzi asked, gazing at him across the table.
    “Of course I don’t think that, Mitzi; I’ll just have to wait until the check clears before having the stock issued to you.”
    “Well, that will take only a few days,” Mitzi said. “To whom shall I make the check?”
    “Larsen Enterprises,” Sig replied.
    “Not directly to the company?”
    “I’ll have to move your money through my firm and issue my own check to the company, since its name must remain secret. I shouldn’t think it would be more than four or five days before I can issue the stock.”
    Mitzi wrote a check for five million dollars and noted “100,000 shares” on it. “Let’s be clear,” she said. “This is for shares in the company that you described in the prospectus, not in Larsen Enterprises.”
    “Of course it is,” Sig said, looking at the check. “A Charleston bank?”
    “I don’t have a New York account yet,” Mitzi said. “Perhaps you could suggest a bank here?”
    “I work with half a dozen,” Larsen said, “mostly small, privately owned banks. I should think that for your purposes one of the big banks, Morgan Chase, perhaps, would be fine. Just pick a branch near your home.”
    “Thank you. I may do just that,” Mitzi replied.
    Their eggs arrived, and Mitzi and Stone began to eat.
    Conversation seemed to pall, and Larsen and Sharpe seemed a bit antsy.
    Larsen consulted his wristwatch. “Oh, Derek and I have another appointment downtown in half an hour,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind if we leave you to your breakfast.” They stood up and hands were shaken. “You’re going to be a very happy woman in three months,” Larsen said. “Bye, now. Bye, Stone.”
    “Derek, could I speak to you for a moment before you leave?” Mitzi asked.
    Stone put down his fork. “Please excuse me for a moment.” He went looking for the men’s room.
     
     
     
    SHARPE TOOK Stone’s seat. “How can I help you, Mitzi?”
    “Well, Derek,” she said, “my friends from Charleston were very pleased with the quality of the, ah, ‘art,’ you sold them, and they’d like to make another purchase.”
    “The same again?”
    “No. This time they’re less interested in the grassy picture and more interested in the powdery ones.”
    “All right. How much would they like?”
    She leaned forward and whispered, “Ten kilos.” “My goodness,” Sharpe said. “Your friends have become more . . . commercial, shall we say!”
    “Perhaps. I’m not familiar with their business arrangements.”
    “Of course not.”
    “And how soon could you deliver?”
    “Two, three days,” Sharpe said. “And at the same price per.”
    “Oh, I should think a volume discount would be in order,” Mitzi said.
    “I might be able to get you five percent off,” Sharp replied.
    “Oh, I think ten percent would be more acceptable to my friends,” Mitzi said, giving him a brilliant smile.
    “Given the quantity, I can do that,” Sharpe said.
    “We’ll do it the same way as last time,” Mitzi said. “I’m more comfortable with this sort of transaction in my own home.”
    “I don’t know about that, Mitzi,” Sharpe said. “My sources don’t like to repeat themselves geographically. I’m sure you understand.”
    “No, I don’t,” Mitzi said firmly. “And I’m not going to do this on some street corner. Anywhere else but my home would be a deal breaker.”
    Sharpe shrugged. “All I can do is try,” he said.
    “Try hard,” Mitzi replied. She shook his hand, and he went to join Larsen in the lobby, just as Stone was returning.
    “How’d it go?” Stone asked.
    “I got ten percent off!” Mitzi squealed. “He bridled at doing it in the apartment again, but I put my foot down.” She looked around. “This is an awfully nice hotel; why don’t we get a room?”
    Stone looked at his watch. “I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until tonight before I can jump you. Eight thirty at Elaine’s?”
    “Oh, all right,” she said, giving him a luscious kiss.

50
    STONE WALKED HOME, and as he came through the front door, Joan flagged him down.
    “A Brian Doyle is waiting in your office,” she said. “He insisted; he showed me a