Fletch(36)
“I don’t understand. What was so great about Alan Stanwyk?”
“What’s so great about Alan Stanwyk? He’s thirty-three now, and he’s running one of the biggest corporations in the world.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I know what you’re going to say. You’re going to say he married Collins Aviation. He’s also brilliant, and he’s worked like a son of a bitch. I’m proud to live off him.”
“Sorry.”
“Believe me, the Collins family wanted him, needed him more than he needed them. I think if it were a toss-up as to whether he saved Alan or Joan, old John Collins would rescue Alan and send his own daughter to the wolves. Alan would be running Collins Aviation today whether he married Joan Collins or not.”
“You really think so?”
“I really do. No question about it. You don’t know how able this guy is. Corporations should trip over themselves to get Alan, just like the fraternities did. That guy’s got everything.”
“You’re a hero-worshipper.”
“Yes, and Alan Stanwyk is my hero.”
“Do you actually see much of him?”
“No, not really. We’re interested in different things. He’s flying, playing tennis, squash, sailing. I’m interested in drinking. He works hard at his business. But he’s still very serious about everything. He’s incapable of sitting down and having a casual drink as you and I are doing right now. I mean, we’re just talking. You’re not trying to learn something; I’m not trying to learn something; we’re just shooting the breeze. He has to use every moment for some purpose or other. Also, I don’t think Joan is too fond of my wife. I’m not either, of course, the little darling. Jesus. You haven’t met my wife. With a little luck, you won’t. What can I give you to run away with her?”
“So, Burt, you don’t really know an awful lot about what Al’s doing or thinking these days.”
“I never have. No one ever has. That guy plays awfully close to the chest. He could be dying of cancer and he wouldn’t tell you.”
“Funny you should say that.”
“He wouldn’t tell his best friend his pants were on fire.”
“I thought Joan was very subdued at lunch.”
“Well, let me put it this way: you’re a friend of Joan’s, and I’m a friend of Al’s—right?”
Fletch said, “Right.”
“So you see things from her side. I see things from his side.”
“Right.”
“He didn’t just marry the girl of his dreams. He married a corporation. He married a business, an omnipresent father-in-law, a board of directors, a staff of servants, a Racquets Club, Christ knows what else. If the average wife is an anchor, that guy is tied to a whole continent.”
“Joan said something about their buying a ranch in Nevada.”
“Yes. Al’s told me about it. I’m to take over the insurance for it when the deal goes through. Sometime in a couple of weeks. Fifteen million dollars’ worth of cows.”
“Lucky you.”
“All these years I’ve been worrying about Al’s dying. Now I have to worry about cows dying. At least cows don’t fly airplanes. Maybe now I should worry about Al’s dying of hoof and mouth disease.”
“Insuring a Nevada ranch seems a little out of your line.”
“Al’s been very good to me. I’m supposed to be in touch with the real estate broker out there in a couple of weeks. I forget his name. I’ve got it written down somewhere inside.”
“Jim Swarthout?”
“Yeah. That’s the name. You know him?”
“Sure. Nice man.”
“Hope he knows more about insuring cows than I do. I need all the help I can get.”
“I guess the ranch will give them a chance to get away together. I mean Joan and Alan.”
“No. It’s just more corporation. It’s her idea, you know—the ranch.”
“It is?”
“Yeah. Al couldn’t care less about it. He knows less about cows than I do, and all I know is that a cow is square with legs sticking out at the corners. He doesn’t want the damn place. Rancho Costo Mucho.”
“I thought it was his idea.”
“Negative.”
“Then why is Joan so subdued?”
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe I’m wrong, but I thought she acted sort of sad. Over lunch.”
“She’s worse than he is. Serious, serious, serious. Haven’t you ever noticed it before? You’d think with all that money, they’d smile once in a while. It’s almost as if they think smiling costs money.”