Undue Influence

“Arnie, you have a customer waiting for you in the break room,” the receptionist said.

Arnie took a sip of coffee and stood, vigorously rubbing his large hands into his scalp then smoothing out his thinning grey hair.  Walking down the hall he tugged at his belt stuffing his disorderly shirttail into his pants under his prominent belly.

Arnie Miller owned Acme Masonry, a mason’s supply shop selling to local contractors in northeast Pennsylvania.  He was a small town operator with thirty years in the trade.

“Good morning,” Arnie said, entering the break room.

“Are you Arnie Miller?” asked the stranger, a man of average height and build, wearing a pork pie hat, brown leather car coat, black pants and black shoes.

“Right.  Can I help you?”

“Yes, you can.  My name’s Louie.  I’m from Jersey.”

Arnie nodded.

“You do business with a friend of my mine.”

“Who’s that?” Arnie asked.

“Pauli D.  He’s a builder.”

Pauli D’Angelo was a general contractor, operating under the name Excelsior Homes.  He was aggressive with an overbearing demeanor, which he attributed to growing up in Hell’s Kitchen, Manhattan.  Pauli had hit town on a roll, well-financed with three condo projects on the books, which he’d taken over from a contractor who had busted out. 

“Sure.  I know Pauli,” Arnie said.  “Have a seat,” gesturing to a chair and pulling one out for himself.

“No, that’s alright.  This won’t take long.” Louie shifted, clasping his hands in front of him at his waist, his Rolex watch prominently in view.

“Okay.  What can I do for you?”

“You made a phone call to a third-party.  And now, because of that call, my friend can’t do what he wants to do.” 

Arnie paused, studying the man’s face.  Louie tilted his head and stared back from under the brim of his hat, his pock-marked face was expressionless and still.

“That’s a nice hat,” Arnie said. 

“You think so?” Louie tilted his head to the other side, an eyebrow raising. “I’m here to ask you to make another call and undo what you did.”

“It’s not that simple. Pauli and I have a deal… ”  Louie raised his hand, waving off Arnie’s reply.

“I don’t want to get into that,” Louie said.

“But you want me to make a phone call.”

“That’s right.”

“You don’t understand.  Pauli’s been talking to Allied Concrete.  Those guys are bums, making all kinds of lame promises and...”  Louie waved him off again.

Arnie was selling pre-formed concrete stoops and patio pavers to Excelsior, moving a couple thousand units and making good money.  Pauli never quibbled about the price.  But after six months he wanted a piece of the action, demanding ten-percent of Excelsior’s purchases to be kicked back to him personally, off the books and in cash.  That put two or three grand a month in Pauli’s pocket.

Arnie was a little queasy about that arrangement, but he went along, afraid of losing the account.  The kickbacks had gone on for eighteen months without a hitch.  Then two weeks ago Pauli came up with a new demand.

Allied Concrete had gotten to Pauli and cooked up a scheme to over-bill Excelsior by thirty-percent on each order.  Allied would split the over-billing with Pauli fifty-fifty.  Pauli wanted the money but didn’t want to change suppliers, so he pitched Arnie on Allied’s scheme.

Arnie had gone along before but he drew the line at phony billing.  That was fraud and he wanted no part of it.  Instead, Arnie offered Pauli another five points to sweeten their kickback arrangement.  But Pauli wasn’t going for it because he figured the phony billing would net him another five thousand a month.  

They had reached an impasse.

That’s when Arnie decided to use his influence.  He had an exclusive territory with the distributor for the stoops Pauli was buying.  So Arnie called the distributor demanding they honor his exclusivity and decline any orders from Allied.  The distributor agreed and Allied was shut out.  Arnie would keep Excelsior and Pauli all to himself.

 “I’m asking you politely,” Louie said.  “Make the call.”

“You kidding me?  Excelsior is a good customer and I want to keep it that way.”

“Mr. Miller, you’re not listening to me.  You need to make a call so my friend can do what he needs to do.”

“You want me to give up my contract and hand it to Allied?  That’s what you’re asking?” 

“That’s right.”

“Why would I do that?”

Louie shrugged.  “Because I asked you.”

Arnie huffed and shook his head.  “I’m going to talk to Pauli and clear this up.”

“No need.  It’s a done deal.  Now it’s in your best interest to make that call.  Understand?”

Arnie shrugged.

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Miller.” Louie turned to leave.

Arnie followed him out, wanting to say something but not knowing what.  As Louie exited the building Arnie turned to the receptionist, “What was that guy’s name?”

“Louie,” she said.

“Last name?”

“Just Louie.  He didn’t give his last name.  I thought you knew him.”

“Never saw him before,” Arnie said.  He went to his office, his stomach doing flip-flops and his face feeling hot.  Looking out the window he watched the late model Lexus coupe with Jersey plates pull out of the lot. 

Arnie’s head was spinning.  Who does this guy think is he is?  How do I even know he’s a real wise guy?  Maybe Pauli put some punk friend up to this.  So I’m going to roll over because some guy with a hat and a Rolex tells me to?   If he’s for real it could be serious trouble for me.  Should I call my lawyer?  The cops? 

Arnie sat at his desk and drew a deep breath.  He picked up his phone and made the call.