“Now listen,” Duffy could almost see Gleason squeezing the telephone with excitement, “I can’t lay my hands on any more dough. I’ll make you a fair offer. Fifteen grand and five per cent cut on the business.”
“Aw, use your head,” Duffy shifted forward in his chair a little. “I ain’t so dumb. What’s five per cent cut to a corpse? I wouldn’t trust you, Gleason, for a second. Once you had that list, you’d bust your guts to iron me out. No, it’s cash or nothing.”
Gleason said, “You goddam sonofabitch…
“Skip it. You don’t know what you’re up against. I’ve got another buyer in the market. You’re going to pay plenty for that list, or the other guy gets it.”
There was a heavy silence at the other end, and Duffy reached over for a cigarette. He had nothing to do, and plenty of time to do it in.
Then Gleason said, “That’s the way you’re going to play it, huh?”
“You got it. Ends against the middle. I ain’t in a hurry, but you’d better start revising your ideas.”
“You’re going to find yourself in a heap of trouble,” Gleason said. His voice was suddenly steady. He seemed no longer excited. “I’d play ball on the level, Duffy, or…”
“Listen, you yellow punk, you can’t throw a scare into me. I know just where I’ve got you. Start the bidding at fifteen grand if you like, but the price is going to the roof.” He dropped the receiver back on the prong and sat back.
Olga came out of the bedroom. She was still nude. “Are you handling this right?” she asked.