"Good Lord,
Jeff, where did you ever hear a yarn like that?"
"Quote, usually well-informed sources, unquote."
"Well, they were unusually ill-informed, that time," Cabot replied. "Take
my word for it, there's absolutely nothing in it."
"So it wasn't an accident, and it wasn't suicide," Rand considered.
"Philip, what is the prognosis on this merger of Premix and National
Milling & Packaging, now that Lane Fleming's opposition has been, shall
we say, liquidated?"
Cabot's head jerked up; he looked at Rand in shocked surprise.
"My God, you don't think...?" he began. "Jeff, are you investigating Lane
Fleming's death?"
"I was retained to sell the collection," Rand stated. "Now, I suppose,
I'll have to find out who's been stealing those pistols, and recover
them, and jail the thief and the fence. But I was not retained to
investigate the death of Lane Fleming. And I do not do work for which
I am not paid," he added, with mendacious literalness.
"I see. Well, the merger's going through. It won't be official until the
sixteenth of May, when the Premix stockholders meet, but that's just a
formality. It's all cut and dried and in the bag now. Better let me pick
you up a little Premix; there's still some lying around.
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