The Groaning Board

murderer.” Wetzon
cut her sticky bun in four pieces and scarfed one wedge down.
    “You know, it’s always nice to have
another man hangin’ around worshippin’ you, takin’ you out for nice lunches and
dinners.”
    “Laura Lee!”
    “I’m not sayin’ have two lovers,
Wetzon. Though for some that could be very interestin’.” Her eyes were filled
with mirth. “I’m just sayin’ that there are some men who would love to hang out
in your radius.”
    “Your radius, Laura Lee, not mine.”
Then she smiled. “You’ve thought of someone,” Laura Lee said gleefully. “I ran
into him in the Park the other day, and I got the strangest feeling that he was
hitting on me.”
    “Tell me who, darlin’. Isn’t this
delicious?” She wasn’t talking about the food.
    “Bill Veeder.”
    “Bill Veeder. Now there’s an
interestin’ man. He and his wife have a salon at their palacial apartment every
couple of months.”
    “His wife?”
    “ Well, that’s
another story. She’s had a stroke or somethin’ and sits in a wheelchair in
front of the fireplace like the Ice queen, not even flickerin’ an eye, while
her nurse sees to her and Bill keeps bringin’ people over to meet her. She
can’t talk, can’t walk, and I’m not sure that she understands anythin’ goin’ on
around her.”
    “ Then I’m
wrong. He seems like the perfect husband.“
    “ Seems is the operative word
here, darlin’.” Laura Lee Patted Wetzon’s hand with buttery fingers. “There is
no such thing as the perfect husband,” she said.

Chapter Fourteen

     
     
     
    Max handed
Wetzon a suspect sheet. “His name is Carl Grant. He has his own TV show on CNN, and he’s
got a radio call-in show. He wants a million dollars upfront. He kept saying I
should know who he is. He wants someone to get back to him who does.”
    “And I suppose,” Smith said, “that he
does two million in gross.”
    Stockbrokers worked on commission
based on their gross production. Their earnings ran according to the firm’s
payout—that is, the percentage of the gross commissions paid to the broker. The
percentage varied slightly from firm to firm, with Merrill Lynch near the
lowest and boutique firms like Bear Stearns and DLJ near the top. A broker
doing a million dollars annual gross would carry home about thirty-nine percent
at Merrill and fifty percent at Bear Stearns. Because of this disparity, the
Bear offered few enticing incentives, other than payout, to come on board.
    “What is his gross, Max?” Wetzon
asked, scanning the suspect sheet. “You haven’t written anything down.”
    “He said he’d tell me after I
find out who he is.”
    “Oh, pu-leeze,” Smith said.
    “I’ll call him. Thanks, Max. This is
good work.” Wetzon frowned at Smith.
    Smith tossed her head. “You’re just
wonderful, dearest Max. Now go on out there and dial for dollars.”
    “Darlene had another start today,”
Wetzon told Smith after Max closed the door behind him. “The big producer in Allentown.”
    “Didn’t I tell you? Our little gold
mine is going to take care of us in our dotage.”
    “I wouldn’t count on it. Nor would I
count on her.” Wetzon picked out Carl Grant’s phone number. “It’s a good thing
we have her on contract.”
    “Mr. Grant’s office,” a cheery female
voice said.
    “Hi, is he there?”
    “He’s on his other line. Who’s
calling, please?”
    “Mrs. Wallingford.”
    “Can you hold, Mrs. Wallingford?”
    “Where is she today, anyway?” Smith
demanded.
    “Yes, I’ll hold. She had to take
Pinky to the vet.“
    “Wouldn’t you just know she’d be a
cat person,” Smith said.
    “She’s not. She’s a Vietnamese
potbellied pig person.”
    Smith let out a shriek.
    “Carl Grant here.”
    Wetzon shook her head at Smith. “Hi,
Carl. Leslie Wetzon, your friendly neighborhood headhunter. I understand you
spoke to Max in our office and I must tell you, I’m really impressed. I want to
hear all about your TV show. I’m amazed that Loeb Dawkins lets you do it.”
    “Well, I don’t really have my own
show. I’ve been a guest on several shows.”
    “Oh, I see. You’ve been a guest on
several shows,” she repeated for Smith’s benefit.
    “Humpf,” Smith said, throwing up her
hands.
    Carl Grant continued: “I was asked to
be on Oprah when she did that show about investment clubs, but the firm was
afraid I’d get asked questions about the legal problems here.“
    “Oh, yes, legal problems.” Loeb
Dawkins