FRANK WAS BIG AND GAWKY and square-jawed and the worst thing about him was that he believed what he was saying.
He shook my hand like there was an off chance he could get oil to flow. He stared unblinkingly into my eyes. He exuded idiot competence and confidence. I could tell immediately why my woman hated him and why Lucy loved him. And green eyes. He had eyes that truly looked green. Or was that because of the money he hoped to make?
“Albert,” he said, “I've been working really hard on your product concept. It's been a challenge, but I really feel that I can fill in the concept sink that your customer interface material is suffering from.”
Oh dear, oh dear.
“I've got a number of options to present to you, but let me tell you now I think we really need to go in hard, so some of the suggestions I am going to make will exceed the initial budget concept you gave me. But it will really be worth it, it really will. I really want you to trust me on this one because it's really exciting me.”
“Oh.”
“Albert, you are at the cutting edge in your business. There simply aren't any other TV ads for private investigation services in Indianapolis at this point in time. The other agencies, large and small, are all taking passive profiles, so that opens the road to an aggressive attack, wide as the Grand Canyon.”
“Oh.”
“If we can establish your ads with distinctive image and flair, then you will have the opportunity to establish yourself as the brand name in your field in Indianapolis. Think about it. People won't say to themselves, `I need a private detective.' They'll say, `I need an Albert Samson.’ ”
“You want to make me into a Jello?”
“That's right! Isn't it great!”
Oh dear, oh dear.
But I had promised to give the kid some rope.
“That's an idea, Frank.”
“It really is, isn't it? But it does mean, Albert, that you've got to get into television right away! In absolutely as big a way as you can afford. I know that as an undercapitalized service industry, you are likely to be reluctant to take on a large advertising commitment, but now is the time! Hock the family jewels. It will pay for itself in no time, I'm sure it will. I've mapped out a campaign for a series of short, interrelated commercials. Realistically I think we'll have to start with them on Cab-Co, because Cab-Co represents the best value in television advertising available in the city.”
“You mean it's cheap.”
“For television advertising, yes.”
The kid obviously didn't value my jewels very highly.
“And it's offering some very good multichannel packages. Do you know much about Cab-Co?”
I hesitated.
Frank told me how Cab-Co was breaking the mold of the cable-TV business. How the fact that it had been given a franchise at all showed that it was something special. How to survive it had to compete aggressively and offer great deals to advertisers.
And there was a degree of logic to what Frank said.
Cable television in Indianapolis used to be doughnut-shaped. One company served the doughnut, another the hole. But suddenly local officials had eliminated the monopoly status of doughnut and hole and gave permission to a third company to compete throughout the complete pastry area.
When the new franchise was awarded it caused a stink, because another Indianapolis-based cable system operator, Omega, had made national news a few years before by trying in court to force the city to do exactly what it had now done of its own free will.
But Cab-Co won the new franchise because it had promised local programming and per-subscriber royalties far beyond levels that any other cable company would consider. Nobody in the trade believed that Cab-Co could survive, but operations began with a flourish in January. The subscriber jury of natural selection was still out, though Cab-Co's owner, Hershel Morgason—a Minnesotan who had married into a monied Indianapolis family—claimed loudly that he was “well on target.”
“It's a special time for television in Indianapolis,” Frank said. “You have chosen to make your big move at exactly the right moment. You really have.”
“Ah,” I said.
“Albert, do you even know the full range of services that you offer?”
“Well,” I said.
“I've been drawing up a list of all the things that a private investigator can legitimately claim to make available to Napoleon and Josephine Public. And it's impressive, truly impressive.”
He pulled a piece of paper out of his inside jacket and winked at me as he unfolded it. He began to read. “Security consultancy. Company background. Personnel evaluation. Litigation research. Insurance claims and fraud investigation. Surveillance. Executive and VIP personal protection. Creditworthiness. Political risk analysis. Accident reconstruction. Photography. Undercover operations. Missing persons investigations. Divorce research. Juvenile reconstructive work. Evidence acquisition for personal or court use. Theft recovery. Ballistics, voice prints, lie detection. Asset location. Electronic measures and countermeasures. Witness interviewing. Personal escort services. Adoption inquiries. Fraud, conspiracy and corruption investigation. Patent infringement investigation. Repossession. Courier service. Liquidation proceedings. Data control. Acquisition and merger research.”
Frank put his list down. He smiled. He said, “Albert, you are awesome!”
I said nothing.
“The beauty part,” Frank said, “is that you are a one-man operation. That's what's going to make selling you so easy. You are not anonymous and impersonal. When people call your number wanting to hire an Albert Samson, they're going to get through to Albert Samson! You don't even have a receptionist. People are going to be knocked out by that. You are the real article. All natural, no preservatives. You are a certified organic, no chemicals added, whole-food private eye and once we get started, nobody is going to want anything less.”
“Oh yes?”
“What are you charging?”
I told him my new rates, established when I remodeled the rooms above the luncheonette and began to think of advertising. Rates that also allowed me to subcontract work, if I got too busy.
“Double them,” he said.
Then he pulled out the storyboards he had prepared. Short spots, featuring me.
“Hang on, Frank. I don't know how to sell stuff on television.”
“It's got to be you, Albert. You're the product!”
“But—”
“Look at this.”
We looked.
“The commercial starts with an actor. He's middle-aged. He's overweight. He has five o'clock shadow. There he is, standing in front of an acre of used cars. He begins his spiel about how he's going to pay people to take his cars away. While he's talking, we fade down what he's saying and at the same time we draw back and, look! He's on television! And then you walk on in front of the set and say, `Would you buy a used car from this man?' You pause, to let the question sink in. Then you say, `Let me find out if he's honest before you risk your money.' See, we've used the word 'honest' and people will associate that with you. Then we bring up your logo, name, address and phone.”
“My logo?”
“And through the whole thing we are running a crawl that lists all the things you can do for people. We'll run that on the bottom of each commercial. It'll be magical!”
He stood back. He stared at me with those bright green eyes. He said, “Trust me, Albert. I know we can do it.”
And for a moment, just a moment, I believed.