He laughed, as though I had said something funny. The houseboy brought my sandwich. I took a bite and called him back before he got out the door. "Just a minute! This isn't mayonnaise, this is salad dressing."
"Yes, sir."
"Don't you have any mayonnaise?"
"No, sir. May I bring you something else, sir?"
"Never mind."
In his own way, Joseph Cassidy was as famous as Lee Bailey. In court Cassidy was certainly as good a lawyer, but he wasn't as flamboyant with reporters outside of court as Bailey, nor did he take cases for sheer publicity value. He was a cash-in-advance, on-the-line lawyer. No one had written a biography on Cassidy yet, but he had socked away a lot more money than Bailey. His shrewdness in buying the right painters at the right time and at rock-bottom prices had made him another fortune-if he ever decided to put his collection on the market.
The houseboy still hovered about, wanting but unwilling to leave. He was upset because I didn't eat the sandwich.
"Close the bar, Rizal," Cassidy ordered quietly, "and tell Mrs. Bentham that I'll see that Mr. Figueras gets home all right." He exposed his toothy smile. "You don't mind sticking around for a while, do you, James?"
"Of course not, Mr. Cassidy."
Because of my upbringing, which has been on the formal side-insofar as observing the amenities was concerned-I resented the easy use of my first name by Mr. Cassidy without my permission or invitation. But I knew that he wasn't trying to patronize me. He was attempting to put me at my ease. Nevertheless, although I considered the idea, I couldn't drop to his level and call him Joe. There's too much informality in America as it is, and in Palm Beach, during the season, it is often carried to ridiculous lengths.
Rizal left to close the bar, which meant that the party was over. The guests would depart without saying good-bye to their host, and that would be that. Not out of rudeness, but out of deference. If Cassidy had gone out for a series of formal good-nights they would have adjusted to that kind of leave-taking just as easily.
After Rizal closed the door, Cassidy took a cigar out of his desk humidor, lighted it, and sat down again. He didn't offer me one.
"James," Cassidy said earnestly, "I know a lot more about you than you think I do. I rarely miss one of your critical articles, and I think you write about art with a good deal of insight and perception."
"Thank you."
"This is all straight talk, James. I'm not in the habit of handing out fulsome praise. A second-rate critic doesn't deserve it, and a first-rate critic doesn't need it. In my opinion, you're well on the way to becoming one of our best young American critics. And, according to my investigations, you're ambitious enough to be the best."
"By investigations, if you mean you've been talking to Gloria about me, she isn't the most reliable witness, you know. We've been friends for several years now, and she's prejudiced in my favor."
"No, not only Gloria, James, although I've talked to her, too. I've talked to dealers, to some of my fellow collectors, and even to Dr. Lang. You might be interested to know that Dr. Lang's highly impressed with your work, and he knows more about art history and criticism than I'll ever know."
"I'm not so sure about that, Mr. Cassidy."
"He should. That's his business-and yours. I'm an attorney, not an art historian. I don't even intend to write a foreword to my catalogue-although Lang suggested it to me."
"Most collectors do."
He nodded, and waved his right hand slowly so the ash wouldn't fall off the end of his cigar. "In the art world, you happen to have a reputation for integrity. And I've been informed that you're incorruptible."
"I'm not getting rich as an art critic, if that's what you mean."
"I know. I also know how to make inquiries. That's my business. The law is ninety-five percent preparation, and if a man does his homework, it's easy to look good in the courtroom. To return to corruption for a moment, let me say that I respect your so-called incorruptibility."
"The way you say it makes me feel as if I've missed some opportunity to make a pie of dough or something and turned it down. If I have missed out on something, I sure don't know about it."
"If you want to play dumb, I'll spell it out for you. Number one-free pictures. That kid's show this evening, ah, Westcott. Suppose you had said to Gloria that you would give Westcott a nice buildup in return for a couple of free pictures, what would have happened?"
