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Dennison could sell.”
    â€œTrue.”
    â€œThey owned fifteen percent apiece, with the rest going to Veda, Pam and Lucella. The old man figured the girls needed something to attract a husband.”
    â€œYeah,” I said sourly, “I know. They got them too. All except Veda.”
    â€œRemember them?”
    â€œOnly too well, buddy.”
    â€œSo you could have forgotten. They were all older than you. Anyway, remember Veda’s vice?”
    â€œThe cubes?”
    â€œOh, Dog, she’s got more class than that. Your cousin Veda discovered Las Vegas. She got with the wild bunch from New York and some of the sharpies who used to be based in Havana. Man, did she go down, and I don’t mean sexually. That crazy broad went through everything she had and hocked everything she didn’t have. Right now she’s living off the income from a small block of securities she won when she was having an early streak of luck. If it weren’t for that, Cousin Veda would be humping for a living.”
    â€œStupid dame,” I muttered. “She wouldn’t make a nickel being a whore.”
    â€œYou haven’t seen her for a while. I kind of think she did take some of it out in trade. Morrie Shapiro wiped out her chits and so did Hamilton from that theater chain. She’s a real swinger, that one. Built like a brick outhouse now. No mind, but built. Talented, too, I hear. A real sex machine ... something like having a new antique car. Style, performance, color, but a little aged.”
    â€œThat leaves Pam and Lucella,” I said.
    â€œSame old story. Pam’s husband Marvin Gates got himself caught in one hell of a gigantic swindle when he tried to finance a cute little operation and Pam had to bail him out. It was either pay up or visit him in jail. Pam paid up and now Marv’s her own personal little ass kisser who had better not ever open his mouth again except when she says when, where or how. And I think you know what I mean.”
    â€œRemembering Pam’s sexual preferences, I sure do,” I said. “And Lucella?”
    â€œToo many luxuries. She woke up one day and it had all dribbled away. The Riviera, Paris and Rome were memories. That guy she married ... what was his name?”
    â€œSimon.”
    â€œYes, Simon ... she sold his polo ponies, his race cars. Simon got a divorce in Mexico, married some old dame and Lucella keeps looking at her pictures of the Riviera, Paris and Rome.”
    â€œSad.”
    â€œIsn’t it?” Al said. “But typical. Who was it said three generations from shirt sleeves to shirt sleeves?”
    â€œSome wise-ass,” I told him.
    â€œThe rough part is this,” Al said. “Alfred and Dennison don’t know about all this machinery. They’re trying to operate on the assumption that the gal cousins have all their stocks and are bugging them to turn over control to them. None of them will buy the attitude ... not that they wouldn’t if they could ... it’s just that they can’t. It just ain’t there to sell anymore. Al and Dennie own thirty percent of nothing with old Cross McMillan ready to reach in and snatch it all away. He already owns one hell of a block he picked up when the original investors died and if it ever comes to a proxy fight, he can pick up all the marbles.”
    â€œMaybe not.”
    â€œCome on, Dog. The dame cousins of yours dumped everything. Whoever picked it up bought a sucker deal and it’s got to be spread out all over the place. It’s only junk, and who would bother with it anyhow?’
    â€œOh, you never could tell.”
    For a long time, Al looked at me, his eyes tight little beads trying to see inside my mind, and finally they did. “You got it,” Al stated.
    â€œWhy not?” I asked him. “Like you said, it was only junk.”
    He let me have that long look again. “McMillan is going to kill you.”
    I grinned at