James Chase - You Must Be Kidding

Ken Brandon unlocked his front door and stepped into the lobby.

Hi, honey! Im home! he bawled. Where are you?

In the kitchen... where else? his wife called. Youre early.

He made his way to the well-equipped kitchen where his wife was preparing dinner. He paused in the doorway and regarded her.

The Brandons had been married for four years, and those years hadnt blunted Kens feelings for her. Slim, blonde and more attractive than pretty, Betty Brandon was not only efficient in the home, but also efficient as Dr. Heintzs receptionist, and she had to be efficient since Dr. Heintz was Paradise Citys top gynecologist. She earned fifty dollars a week more than Ken did: something that secretly rankled with him, but her earnings made it possible for them to live in a modest style which they both enjoyed, with two cars, a nice bungalow in a good residential district and they were able to save for the future.

Ken was the head salesman with the Paradise Assurance Corporation. He earned a reasonable wage amid trying to compete with his wifes earnings, he often worked out-of-office hours whereas Betty kept strict hours. She left home at 09.45 and returned at 18.00, her workday finished. This arrangement suited her as she could look after the bungalow and prepare dinner for Ken, not always knowing at what time he would return. Betty prided herself on her cooking. With the aid of various cookbooks, every evening, she provided a good and tasty meal.

Dont come near me, Ken! she said sharply, seeing the light in his eyes and knowing from experience what he had in mind. Im cooking something important. Youve arrived at the wrong time.

Ken grinned.

Is there ever a wrong time? Honey, forget it! Two things: first, we are going to make certain our bedroom is still there, and second, I am going to buy you the best meal you have ever eaten. Lets go!

Betty pushed him away.

Now, Ken, stop it! The bedroom is still there and will wait. We are not going out! I am cooking clam chowder, and let me tell you there is no restaurant anywhere that does a better clam chowder than I do! Whats happened?

Clam chowder? Ken moved to the saucepan and lifted the lid.

Ken! Keep your hands off that!

He hurriedly replaced the lid.

Smells marvellous!

It is marvellous. Whats happened?

Well, at least, lets have a drink. He went to the refrigerator and took from it a bottle of gin and a bottle of martini. I have news!

Give me five minutes, Betty said.

He carried the bottles into the lounge, made two drinks, lit a cigarette and dropped into one of the comfortable lounging chairs. He waited impatiently.

Betty wasnt to be hurried. Ten minutes later, she came into the lounge. By then, Ken had already replenished his glass.

So whats all the excitement about? she asked, dropping into a chair by his side and accepting the drink he offered. Whats the news?

You may well ask. Ken grinned at her. He was now feeling slightly drunk. It was seldom he drank martini gins. Ive been promoted. Sternwood called me to his office this afternoon. He grimaced. Frankly, honey, I nearly flipped. I thought I was going to get the gate. You know Stern. No one gets called to his office unless he is going to get the hot foot. Okay, so I went. Imagine! He has opened a branch office in Secomb, and he wants me to take charge. He says there is a big, untapped source of business there, and he expects me to get it. What could I say? No one argues with Sternwood. So I am now in charge of the new Secomb office.

Secomb? Betty stared. But thats the black district.

Not all black. Its the workers district. There are lots of whites living there.

What kind of insurance?

Ken nodded approvingly. His wife was nobodys fool.

A good question. Sternwoods idea is to go after the parents and sell them a safeguard policy for their kids. For a small premium, we can offer parents all kinds of coverage for their kids. In Secomb, there are around fifteen thousand possible prospects, and Sternwood is sure we will strike gold.

Betty thought.

After dealing with all your rich clients, Ken, you wont like it, will you?

Ive no choice. Anyway, its a challenge.

So you are in charge. How much more is he paying you?

Ken grimaced.

Im still on my basic, but I get fifteen percent on all business I bring in. Sternwood never gives money away. If he is right about the prospects and I think he is it could mean something substantial in commissions.

How substantial?

I havent had time to think about that. It depends on how hard I work.

Betty sighed.

When do you begin?

The office is ready. I begin tomorrow. Ken finished his drink. Theres one thing I dont dig, but Im landed with it.

Betty regarded him.

I would have thought there are lots of things you dont dig about this. Whats the bad news?

Sternwood has a daughter. She is to work with me. According to him, shes a smart cookie, knows as much about insurance as I do... according to him. She is to handle the office while I do the legwork. Its not so hot to have Sternwoods daughter working with me. Itll mean Ill have to be on my toes all the time, not that I wont be on my toes all the time, but you know...

Whats she like, Ken?

No idea. Ill tell you when I meet her tomorrow.

Lets eat.

While they were eating, Betty said, I wonder if shes attractive.

Regarding her, Ken saw her worried frown.

If she takes after her father, she must be something out of a freak show. Whats bothering you, honey?

Betty smiled.

Just wondering.

Ill tell you whats bothering me, Ken said. Ill have a spy in the office... a hot line right to daddys desk. I could be in trouble if she dislikes me or if I dont make a success of this job. I dont have to tell you that Sternwood is a sonofabitch. If his daughter puts in the poison, Ill be out of a job, and Sternwood could fix me for good. Thats whats bothering me, honey.

Darling... you know you will make a success of it.

Betty put her hand on his. Like it?

The best clam chowder Ive ever eaten.

When they had finished the meal, Betty said, What was that about checking to see if the bedroom is still there?

Ken hurriedly shoved back his chair.

How about the dishes? he asked, getting to his feet.

To hell with the dishes! Who cares?

For a long period of time, Paradise City held the reputation as the billionaires playground: the most expensive, plush city in the world. Situated some twenty miles from Miami Beach, the city catered only for the very rich who demanded constant service. The army of those who supplied this service lived in Secomb, a mile drive out of the city.

Secomb was not unlike West Miami: a rash of walk-up apartments, battered bungalows, cheap eating places, tough bars where the conch fishermen drank and fought, and a major black population.

The new office of the Paradise Assurance Corporation was situated on Seaview Road which was in the heart of Secombs busy shopping centre.

Having found parking with difficulty, Ken Brandon got out of his car and stood on the sidewalk to survey his new office. To Ken, it looked like a hockshop, but he had already accepted the depressing fact that he was no longer dealing with the rich and the plush. His possible clients would be struggling to make a living. They wouldnt think of entering an office that had the same luxury facade as the citys head office.

Aware that he was being watched by various black owners of nearby stores, he unlocked the door and entered.

He was confronted by a long counter. Behind the counter was a big room fitted with filing cabinets, a desk, a typewriter, a telephone: all looking second hand, which they were.