Manhattan Voyagers. Thomas Boone's Quealy
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it creates an artificial demand and the prices start to rise dramatically. These investors soon tell their friends about all the paper profits they’re making, and, naturally, the friends want to get in on the action too, so they also invest, driving the prices way up.”
“Of course.”
“When the stock prices get sky-high, Ruthie, my firm dumps all its shares for large gains. The gold and cancer-curing rumors are soon discovered to be false and the stock prices collapse. All the small investors get caught holding the bag and lose their shirts.”
“It’s disgraceful!”
“Wait, it gets worse.”
“How can it get any worse than that?”
“My firm targets this scam at senior citizens, Ruthie, it specializes in defrauding senior citizens out of their retirement savings.”
“Despicable!”
“I intend to blow the whistle on the whole shebang.”
She closed her eyes and opened them again as Ethel was slurping up the last of her drink.
“That hit the spot, Ruthie, I could drink ten more and still walk a straight line.”
“All the drunks say the same thing.”
“I wouldn’t want to be a drunk, Ruthie, but it might be nice to float through life in a permanent state of mild intoxication.”
“And not have a care in the world?”
“Yes.”
“And spend your days on a sandy beach with a handsome rich man who showers you with diamonds and gives you great sex?”
She smiled. “It seems we both have the same dream, Ruthie.”
“All women have that dream.”
“I suppose so.”
“Claire came in earlier, Ethel, you should tell her what’s going on at your firm.”
“Good idea. Claire will be able to show me how to get whistle-blower status so I can collect a reward.”
“Let me go and see if she’s still in the dining room. I’ll be right back.”
“Ok.” While she waited, Ethel wiggled her empty glass at Hilda, fishing for another freebie offer, however, Hilda merely smiled blissfully.
“Claire’s already left,” Ruthie said, when she got back, “it must’ve happened during my break.”
“No problem, I’ll phone her tomorrow.”
“Don’t call her from your office, Ethel, you might be overheard.”
“I won’t.”
Her lips compressed into a narrow line. “Have you considered the possibility that your firm could be controlled by the Mafia?”
Ethel smacked herself on the forehead. “How dopey am I?”
“It’s only a thought.”
“Of course, Ruthie, it could be!”
“Hmm.”
“One of my relatives was connected; how could I not consider that possibility?”
“Does it make a difference, Ethel, if it is a MOB firm?”
Her mouth fell ajar in alarm. “Yes, I don’t want to be murdered.”
“Maybe Claire can find out for you.”
“I’ll be sure to ask her.”
Rudy strutted by them humming a merry tune.
“I never saw him so cheery,” Ethel said, “not in all the time I’ve been coming to the Bull & Bear.”
“Rudy let it slip the other day that he also expects to be coming into a lot of money shortly.”
“That must account for it.”
“No doubt.”
“You know, Ruthie, there were times when I felt sorry for Rudy because of his handicap.”
“Hmm.”
“Then, when I’d be about to give him a hug and tell him how courageous he is, he’d do a horrible thing to someone. It turned me right off.”
“He affects everyone the same way; you want to like the guy but you can’t bring yourself to do it.”
Ethel shrugged. “But, hey, who am I to judge? Best of luck to him, I say.”
“Yes, best of luck,” Ruthie replied, narrowing her eyes.
*
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