Murder in the Gunroom | Page 7

voted not to try it again."
"They put out quite a line of such godsends to the neophyte in the kitchen, the popularity
of which is reflected in a steadily rising divorce-rate," Tipton said. "They advertise very
extensively, including half an hour of tear-jerking drama on a national hookup during

soap-opera time. Your client, the former Gladys Farrand, was on the air for Premix for a
couple of years; that's how Lane Fleming first met her."
"So you think some irate and dyspeptic husband went to the source of his woes?" Rand
inquired.
"Well, not exactly. You see, Premix is only Little Business, as the foods industry goes,
but they have something very sweet. So sweet, in fact, that one of the really big fellows,
National Milling & Packaging, has been going to rather extreme lengths to effect a
merger. Mill-Pack, par 100, is quoted at around 145, and Premix, par 50, is at 75 now,
and Mill-Pack is offering a two-for-one-share exchange, which would be a little less than
four-for-one in value. I might add, for what it's worth, that this Stephen Gresham you
mentioned is Mill-Pack's attorney, negotiator, and general Mr. Fixit; he has been trying to
put over this merger for Mill-Pack."
"I'll bear that in mind, too," Rand said.
"Naturally, all this is not being shouted from the housetops," Tipton continued. "Fact is,
it's a minor infraction of ethics for me to mention it to you."
"I'll file it in the burn-box," Rand promised. "What was the matter; didn't Premix want to
merge?"
"Lane Fleming didn't. And since he held fifty-two per cent of the common stock himself,
try and do anything about it."
"Anything short of retiring Fleming to the graveyard, that is," Rand amended. "That
would do for a murder-motive, very nicely.... What were Fleming's objections to the
merger?"
"Mainly sentimental. Premix was his baby, or, at least, his kid brother. His father started
mixing pancake flour back before the First World War, and Lane Fleming peddled it off a
spring wagon. They worked up a nice little local trade, and finally a state-wide wholesale
business. They incorporated in the early twenties, and then, after the old man died, Lane
Fleming hired an advertising agency to promote his products, and built up a national
distribution, and took on some sidelines. Then, during the late Mr. Chamberlain's 'Peace
in our time,' he picked up a refugee Czech chemist and foods-expert named Anton
Varcek, who whipped up a lot of new products. So business got better and better, and
they made more money to spend on advertising to get more money to buy more
advertising to make more money, like Bill Nye's Puritans digging clams in the winter to
get strength to hoe corn in the summer to get strength to dig clams in the winter.
"So Premix became a sort of symbol of achievement to Fleming. Then, he was one of
these old-model paternalistic employers, and he was afraid that if he relinquished control,
a lot of his old retainers would be turned out to grass. And finally, he was opposed in
principle to concentration of business ownership. He claimed it made business more
vulnerable to government control and eventual socialization."

"I'm not sure he didn't have something there," Rand considered. "We get all our corporate
eggs in a few baskets, and they're that much easier for the planned-economy boys to
grab.... Just who, on the Premix side, was in favor of this merger?"
"Just about everybody but Fleming," Tipton replied. "His two sons-in-law, Fred Dunmore
and Varcek, who are first and second vice presidents. Humphrey Goode, the company
attorney, who doubles as board chairman. All the directors. All the New York banking
crowd who are interested in Premix. And all the two-share tinymites. I don't know who
inherits Fleming's voting interest, but I can find out for you by this time tomorrow."
"Do that, Tip, and bill me for what you think finding out is worth," Rand said. "It'll be a
novel reversal of order for you to be billing me for an investigation.... Now, how about
the family, as distinct from the company?"
"Well, there's your client, Gladys Fleming. She married Lane Fleming about ten years
ago, when she was twenty-five and he was fifty-five. In spite of the age difference, I
understand it was a fairly happy marriage. Then, there are two daughters by a previous
marriage, Nelda Dunmore and Geraldine Varcek, and their respective husbands. They all
live together, in a big house at Rosemont. In the company, Dunmore is Sales, and Varcek
is Production. They each have a corner of the mantle of Lane Fleming in one hand and a
dirk in the other. Nelda and Geraldine hate each other like Greeks and Trojans. Nelda is
the nymphomaniac sister, and Geraldine is