A Key to the Suite by John D. MacDonald Page B

guess he didn’t say much of anything, but I guess he saw my side of it. Then he brought up some egghead idea of teaming up an engineer and a salesman, but I knocked that down quick. I told him that the quickest way to kill a sale is bring in the technical boys too early, because they can always think of a dozen reasons why an installation won’t work out. I say nail the sale down, then
make
the damn thing work.”
    “I guess he’s anxious to learn from you, dear.”
    “If he’d listen, I could teach him one hell of a lot. But I wish to God he’d stop working for a couple of minutes. If he’d have six drinks and find him a friendly little girl, he’d get a more tolerant attitude toward the sales division.”
    “And give you a chance for a little gentle blackmail?”
    “Who said anything about blackmail?”
    “Don’t raise your voice, darling. And don’t look so innocent and indignant. Remember me? I’ve been around a long time. I’ve seen you work it before at conventions. I remember that fearless state senator in Nashville that time.”
    Mulaney grinned. “The one that was going to nail us on kickbacks? Hell, yes! By the third day he was following me around like a little puppy dog, because I’d opened up a brand new world for that poor love-starved man.”
    “It won’t work with Floyd, dear. Maybe he isn’t righteous, but I think he’s terribly careful.”
    They ate in silence for a few moments. “At least,” Jesse said in a slightly surly tone, “we’ve got the top exhibit in the place.”
    “Have we?”
    He dropped his fork with a clatter and stared at her. “What’s wrong with it, Con? You saw it. You saw the attention it’s getting.”
    “And I saw a look of pain on Hubbard’s face, dear. What’s getting the attention? AGM products? Or those cheap twins wiggling their butts in unison? It’s typically a Freddy Frick idea. Vulgar, sensational and sexy. Even Cass is visibly uneasy about it. It doesn’t exactly tie in with the magazine campaign, does it?”
    “Woman, this isn’t a magazine. This is a convention.”
    “And anything goes? Anything for a laugh?”
    He glanced at his watch, glared at her and stood up. “I’ve got to go. Sign the check. Thanks for the big boost to the morale, honey.”
    She watched him stride out of the restaurant. Her eyes were stinging, and she tried to smile. The dear, dear vulnerable fool. Met him when he was a drummer. Day coaches, rooming houses, the heavy sample case, the small stores in the sleepy towns. And so little had changed, actually. The cigars were more expensive. But the jokes and the laugh were the same. And those truly horrid suits in that electric blue he loves, and the wide silk ties, like photographs of fireworks. But he isn’t mean. Thank God, he isn’t mean. He’s just scared.
    On that same morning, Farber of GAE flew to Houston from New York on a quick inspection tour and conferred with John Camplin, the new executive vice president of the American General Machine Division of GAE. They were both trim tailored men in their early forties, so much the same type they gave the impression of being related.
    After the more urgent problems had been talked over, and decisions reached, Farber said, “You’re shaping it up faster than anybody expected, John. And it takes me off the hook for insisting on moving you into the hot seat.”
    “Nice to hear, Harry. There’s a long way to go. It wasn’t only dead wood, it was dry rot. With a couple of exceptions, the new team is working out.”
    “How about sales? Frankly, that’s the only place where you haven’t moved as fast as I thought you would. Why haven’t you gotten Maloney out of there? Recruiting trouble?”
    “His name is Mulaney. No. I’ve got a good man lined up to come over with us as soon as I say the word. I had to steal him.”
    “Then why are you dragging your feet?”
    “It’s sort of a PR problem, Harry. He’s president of one of the industry associations. He’s