Free The Porkchoppers by Ross Thomas Page B

management hadn’t been quite grateful enough to give Penry one of those.
    â€œWell, maybe I could drop around for a little while,” Cubbin said.
    â€œMake it around one and we’ll have some lunch.”
    â€œOkay. Lunch’ll be fine.”
    â€œSee you tomorrow then, Don. I’m looking forward to it.”
    â€œSure. So am I.”
    After Penry switched off his desk speaker he looked at Peter Majury who by now had covered one page of his yellow legal pad with scribbled notes.
    â€œWell?” Penry said.
    â€œInteresting, but not startling.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œHe’s been nipping, but not too much,” Majury said. “That means that he’s secured a steady supply—probably from that Mure person who shadows him. Ancient Age, as I recall.”
    â€œJust how in the hell do you know it’s Ancient Age?” Ted Lawson said.
    â€œIt’s my job to know, Ted. Mure usually keeps four half-pints about his person. This enables Cubbin to have a quick one whenever the need arises and from his careful pronunciation of certain words such as ‘after’ and ‘handle,’ I’d say his intake thus far today has been nearly three-fourths of a pint.”
    â€œHow much would you say he’s putting away every day?” Penry said.
    â€œIt must be nearly a fifth or a quart, if my research is right.”
    â€œIt usually is,” Lawson said, but without any admiration.
    â€œCan he function?” Penry said.
    â€œIt depends upon what you mean by that. At a little over a pint he can still move around, but his control has diminished. After a quart he would be completely unconscious. If he follows his usual pattern, he has a quick one or two in the morning to get going, and then tries to do everything that needs any careful attention by noon. After that he can have several large drinks and still perform the duties that require little or no concentration— such as making public appearances, delivering a speech, and so forth. Fortunately, his duties are not too arduous.”
    â€œHe hasn’t done a day’s work in the ten years that I’ve known him,” Lawson said.
    â€œIt depends on what you mean by that,” Penry said. “I’ve seen him conduct round-the-clock negotiations. I was there at the request of industry, not his, but I’d say that he was damned near masterful.”
    â€œHow long ago was that?” Peter Majury said.
    â€œThree years. About this time three years ago.”
    â€œWell, for one thing he was on stage then,” Majury said. “He wasn’t being the president of his union. He was
acting
the way that he thought the president of his union should act.”
    â€œHe did a damned fine job,” Penry said.
    â€œHe would have made a most competent actor, perhaps even a great one given proper direction. But you saw him at his best three years ago. I’m afraid his drinking problem has worsened since then.”
    â€œWell, he’s not going to quit the sauce,” Lawson said.
    â€œNo, he’s not going to do that,” Penry said.
    â€œPersonally,” Majury said, “I think that under the circumstances his people are handling him almost as well as he can be handled. If we enter into his campaign, my only suggestion would be to shield him from as much stress as possible.”
    â€œYou mean nursemaid him?” Lawson said, making it clear that he didn’t like the idea.
    â€œNo, he’s got a number of those around—all of whose good intentions are subverted by the Mure person who, in effect, is Cubbin’s bootlegger. No, I think we leave Cubbin alone as much as possible.”
    â€œYou’re getting to your point, aren’t you?” Penry said.
    â€œYes. I think I am.”
    â€œWell?”
    â€œSammy Hanks.”
    â€œYes,” Penry said, “Sammy is the problem, isn’t he?”
    â€œHe has those tantrums, you