He Huffed and He Puffed by Barbara Paul Page A

to the door. Bruce noticed the arrangement but made no comment. He fixed his eyes on Strode and waited; he was not the one who’d requested this meeting.
    â€œMay I sit down?” Strode asked, sitting down. “Thank you.” He’d deliberately placed himself on an inferior level, having to look up to Bruce when he spoke. The message was clear. He was so sure of his position, he didn’t have to play that particular upmanship game—which, of course, was an upmanship game itself. “I won’t beat around the bush, Mr. Bruce. I want your House of Glass shares.”
    Bruce let a beat pass before he answered. “So do I.” His voice was musical and not as deep as might be expected.
    â€œYou’ve had that stock for less than a year. I understand you accepted it as payment from a shipper whose account had gotten out of hand?”
    Bruce’s left eyebrow raised a fraction. None of your damned business , the eyebrow said.
    â€œYou’ll make a profit if you sell to me now,” Strode went on.
    â€œYes, I’m aware of that, but I think I’ll hold on to the shares.”
    â€œEven when I tell you I plan to shut House of Glass down?”
    â€œEven so. You can’t shut down without my shares.”
    It struck Strode that Bruce already knew about his plans; he wasn’t surprised to hear of the intended shutdown and he needed no time to think it over before he replied. The shipowner had been doing a little checking of his own; Strode wondered what else the man knew about him. Right there and then he abandoned any further attempt at gentlemanly persuasion. “Castleberry?”
    Still standing, Castleberry juggled his briefcase and took out a large manila envelope which he laid on top of the printouts on Bruce’s desk. “You’ll want to take a look at this, Mr. Bruce.”
    Bruce kept his eyes on Strode a moment. Then he sat down at his desk and slowly picked up the envelope. Inside was a copy of Estelle Rankin’s statement and a copy of her husband’s last letter; the latter had been inserted into the original envelope. Bruce read the letter first. When he came to the signature, he lifted his eyes to Strode and asked, “Harry?”
    â€œHarry Rankin,” Castleberry answered for Strode. “The first mate on the Burly Girl.”
    Bruce turned over the envelope and looked at the address.
    â€œShe’s not there anymore,” Castleberry said hurriedly. “And she has a new name.”
    Bruce gave a barely perceptible nod, as if expecting something like that. He read Mrs. Rankin’s statement through twice. “She’s willing to swear to this in court?”
    â€œYes, she is,” Castleberry answered. “Would you like a notarized letter from her saying so?”
    Bruce ignored him and went back to read parts of the statement again; he’d not once looked at Castleberry the whole time. After a few moments Bruce put the papers back in the manila envelope. “So. Because of someone who used to be named Estelle Rankin, I must sell you my shares in House of Glass? Is that it?”
    â€œThat’s about the size of it,” Strode said. “Let’s keep it friendly, Bruce. A quick deal and we’ll be out of each other’s hair.”
    â€œOh no, it’s not as simple as that. It also involves making an enemy.”
    That didn’t bother Strode. “I make enemies every day of my life. You’re just today’s.”
    Bruce looked amused. “Oh, that’s the way it is, is it? I’m merely a minor obstacle to be dealt with, of temporary significance only. I see you have no use for subtlety. Don’t bother trying to intimidate me, Strode—that never works in this office. I ask you to think again before proceeding with this.”
    â€œNot necessary. I want those shares and I will have them.”
    â€œWe have nothing to do with each other, Strode—let’s