Fast Buck (6 page)

‘Could you stop acting like Beethoven for a moment?’ Dallas said, breathing heavily through his nose. ‘Or would you like me to stand up and conduct?’

Purvis placed his finger-tips together again and stared at Dallas from over them. His eyes reminded Dallas of two sloes on white saucers; his face of an inverted pear. There was nothing attractive about Harmon Purvis, but he gave the impression that he would deliver the goods no matter how difficult the job.

‘I’ve always thought I should have been a professional pianist instead of a private eye,’ he said gloomily. ‘One of these days I’ll buy myself a piano.’

‘That’l be the day,’ Dal as said tartly. ‘Maybe it’l convince you you’re better at blowing a trumpet.’

Purvis waved this away with a chilling frown.

‘We’ve got to watch our step,’ he said. ‘We might be within throwing distance of grabbing those jewels. I’ve always thought the Rajah could find them quicker than anyone. I’m surprised he hasn’t tried before.’

‘How do you know he’s after them?’ Dal as said impatiently. ‘Just because the insurance companies are suspicious of him there’s no reason why we should be – or is there?’

‘They’re suspicious of him because I told them to be,’ Purvis said quietly. ‘Knowing what I do about the man and his reckless spending, it’s obvious that as soon as he realised he was get ing through his money, and there wouldn’t be any more, he’d think of the jewels. He’s the type who wants his cake and wants to eat it as well. You mustn’t forget that the jewels now belong to the insurance companies. They paid out the insurance, but the value of the jewels has enormously increased now. At a guess I’d say they were worth three times as much as the insurance companies paid for them, and that fact must stick in the Rajah’s throat. It’s my bet if he finds them he’ll stick to them. He could get rid of them in India without questions being asked. Most of the stuff would be snapped up by Indian princes, and no one would be any the wiser. He must lay his hands on some money soon. From what I hear he’s down to his last million.’

‘You don’t say!’ Dal as said sarcastical y. ‘Why, the poor fel a must be starving!’

Purvis pursed his lips. He considered such comments about money in poor taste. Money was Purvis’s god.

‘Never mind that,’ he said. ‘If we handle this right we stand to pick up four grand.’ He played a scale up and down the edge of his desk. ‘It’s my bet the Rajah wil take us to the jewels if we’re patient and don’t tip our hand. Mac-Adam and Ainsworth are covering him at night. Burns is sticking with him during the day. I want you to watch Kile. The Rajah won’t go for the jewels himself. He’ll have someone to do the work for him. That someone might easily be Kile. Keep on his tail, but don’t let him have an idea you’re watching him. If he doesn’t show signs of get ing into the game by the end of the week, drop him, and we’l wait for someone else to show.’

Dallas grunted. His lean brown face didn’t show any enthusiasm.

‘You could be barking up the wrong tree,’ he pointed out. ‘The easiest way to handle this is to sit tight and wait for Hater to come out of jail. He’s the one who’l lead us to the jewels.’

Purvis made a wry face.

‘He won’t be out for two years!’ He leaned forward and rapped on his desk. ‘I can’t afford to wait two years. We’ve got to produce something before then.’

‘What’s the hurry?’ Dal as said, yawning. ‘We’ve been at this off and on for fifteen years. Why not concentrate on other jobs and wait until Hater gets free?’

‘Don’t you realise how much we stand to pick up…?’

‘Yeah, you told me. I don’t know if you’re using the royal ‘we’, but I’m damned sure I’l never smell that four grand, or even a dollar of it.’

‘That remains to be seen,’ Purvis said hurriedly. ‘We haven’t got it yet. The insurance companies have been paying us a retainer for the past fifteen years, and we’ve done precious lit le to earn it. We can’t afford to wait until Hater comes out. We’ve got to get busy right now.’

Dallas looked at him suspiciously.

‘Have they been belly-aching?’

‘They’ve been doing more than that. They’ve stopped the retainer. It was as much as I could do to persuade them to let us represent them for another three months. We’ve got to get things moving or some of us will have to look for another job.’

Dallas unfolded his lanky frame out of the chair. He picked up his hat and slapped it on the back of his head.

‘Don’t kid yourself you’re scaring me,’ he said. ‘I could get me a better job than this one any day of the week. The only reason why I stick with you is because you’ve become a bad habit. Okay, I’l watch Kile. Maybe he’l lead us to the jewels, but I very much doubt it. There’s only one man who knows where they are, and that’s Hater. So long as he’s in prison they never will be found.’

‘That’s defeatism,’ Purvis said severely. ‘We haven’t two years to wait: we’ve only three months.

Keep after Kile, and watch that girl. She may know something.’

Dallas’s face brightened.

‘Watching her won’t be hard work,’ he said, making for the door. ‘It’s going to be a pleasure. If I didn’t think you’d take me up on it, I’d say I’d do it for free.’

As an eager look came into Purvis’s eyes, Dal as ducked out of the office and hurriedly closed the door.

VI

At half-past ten, Rico left his office and walked across the restaurant to the bar. There were not more than twenty couples dining in the restaurant, but that didn’t worry him. It was seldom the club got busy until after eleven o’clock.

Rico bowed when he thought he recognised a face, but he didn’t stop to chat as he usual y did. He noticed some of the diners were looking curiously at his bruised face, and he felt a little self-conscious.

Besides, he didn’t feel up to his usual suave, gossipy round of the tables. He was still horribly shaken by Baird’s telephone cal . Baird must have been crazy to have used the telephone: the kind of slip that put a man in the gas-chamber!

With an uneasy grimace at the thought, Rico entered the bar. There were only a dozen or so people at the tables around the dimly lit room. Rico ordered a double whisky. He approved of the barman’s good manners. He had taken a quick look at Rico’s bruised face, and then had kept his eyes studiously away from it.

As Rico sipped the whisky he once more glanced at the people in the room. He noted with satisfaction that all but two of them were in evening dress. When the Frou-Frou Club had first opened, a year ago, you wouldn’t have found anyone there in evening dress: even Rico hadn’t worn it. Only the rougher element of the town patronised the club, but as soon as he could afford to take a risk, he raised his prices and gradually squeezed them out. Now, by careful advertising and recommendations he had attracted what he liked to call ‘the carriage trade’, and evening dress was the rule instead of the exception.

Among his numerous clients were wealthy business men who knew they could pick up a girl at the club without being involved in any awkward complications, a half a dozen or so not-so-well-known actors and actresses, several con men, crooks and prostitutes, and a small army of tough-looking characters who didn’t advertise what they did for a living, but who brought their women to the club regularly and had money to burn.

Rico glanced at the two men not in evening dress. One of them was sitting up at the bar; the other was alone at a corner table, reading a newspaper.

The one at the bar Rico knew by sight. He was tall, slightly built, fair and distinctly handsome. There were dark smudges under his blue eyes that gave him a worn, dissolute look. He was fine drawn as if he didn’t get enough to eat, and his mouth drooped unhappily.

Looking at him, Rico thought sourly that women would be mad about him. He was just the shiftless, pathetic type women would insist on helping. He was not only shiftless, but completely untrustworthy, Rico decided.

He had seen him in the club off and on now for more than a month. His name was Adam Gillis: not what you could call a good customer, but more often than not he brought some girl with him who bought champagne.

Rico wondered how he managed to get hold of these girls: they were all very young, rich and stupid.

He had seen them pass money to Gillis, when they thought the waiter wasn’t looking, to pay for the champagne they invariably ordered.

At the moment Gillis wasn’t drinking. He sat on the stool, staring bleakly at himself in the mirror, his charm switched off, and his years of shabby living plainly written on his face. He looked as if he needed a drink badly, and Rico assumed he was waiting for someone – probably another stupid girl – to buy him one.

With a shrug of contempt, Rico turned his attention to the man reading the newspaper. He hadn’t seen him before, and Rico was a little puzzled by him. He wasn’t the nightclub type. He was tall and lanky and deeply tanned. His eyes were bright and healthy looking. His crew haircut made Rico think of the tennis player, Budge Patty. This fella, Rico thought, had the same out-of-door look: probably a salesman passing through town on the look-out for some fun.

He finished his whisky and went into the entrance lobby to check the register, which was carefully kept by Schmidt, the doorman.

‘Who’s the guy with the crew haircut?’ he asked, as Schmidt drew himself up and saluted. ‘I haven’t seen him in here before.’

‘Name of Dal as,’ Schmidt told him. He was a giant of a man, with a red, cheerful face and enormous moustaches. ‘Had an introduction from Mr Rhineheart so I let him in.’

Rico nodded.

‘That’s okay. Thought I’d check on him. First time he’s been here, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, sir. He’s a nice guy, but I don’t reckon he’s got much money.’

‘The nice guys never have,’ Rico said, shrugging. ‘Okay, Schmidt. Let me know when Mr Kile arrives. I want to see him tonight.’

He wandered back to the bar and paused to look in. Dallas was talking to a red-head in a green evening dress: one of Rico’s hostesses: a girl named Zoe Norton. Rico nodded his approval when he saw the half bottle of champagne on the table. Zoe wouldn’t rest until she had had the other half: she was a keen saleswoman.

Adam Gillis watched Rico in the mirror. He wondered how he had bruised his face so badly. He wished he knew more about Rico: that Rico was coming up in the world was beyond doubt, but how far would he get? What were his nerves like? Had he the guts for a big job?

When Rico went away, Gillis looked at his wrist-watch and frowned. What could be keeping Eve?

She said she’d be here with Kile at ten o’clock. It was get ing on for eleven now. He wondered if he should phone her, but decided it wouldn’t be safe. Kile might answer. No point in making Kile suspicious at this stage of the game.

How he wanted a drink! He looked longingly at the row of bottles along the chromium shelves behind the bar. He hadn’t two dol ars to rub together! Looking thoughtfully at the barman he wondered if he could get credit. Reluctantly he decided not to try. He didn’t want to attract any at ention to himself. The barman was certain to consult Rico.

He felt in his hip pocket for his cigarette-case, opened it and found it empty. Oh, damn Eve! Why couldn’t she come? Angrily he replaced the case in his pocket and began to drum on the counter with his finger-tips.

The barman came over to him and offered him a cigarette from a crumpled pack.

‘I get caught myself like that some nights,’ he said amiably. ‘Makes me want to walk across the ceiling. Help yourself.’

Gillis stiffened with mortification and rage. A damned lackey offering him a cigarette! The blasted cheek of the man!

‘I don’t smoke a barman’s cigaret es,’ he said venomously, ‘Kindly mind your own business and let me mind mine!’

The barman flushed. He looked as if he wanted to hit Gillis, but he swallowed his anger with an effort and put the pack back in his pocket.

‘If that’s the way you feel about it,’ he said, ‘I’m sorry I spoke.’

He walked to the other end of the bar and began to polish glasses, his flush deepening as he appreciated more fully the snub he had received.

Gillis got off the stool and walked out into the lobby.

‘Mr Kile hasn’t been in yet, has he?’ he asked Schmidt casual y. ‘I’ve been in the bar and I might have missed him.’

‘He hasn’t been in yet, sir,’ Schmidt said cool y. He had had a lot of experience of the men and women who came to the club, and he prided himself on spotting the wrong one. He hadn’t any use for Gillis; a sponger if ever there was one.

Gillis went into the gentlemen’s retiring room. He washed his hands under the disapproving eyes of the Negro attendant who knew from experience he wasn’t going to be tipped, poured lavender water on a towel and touched his temples with it. While he was combing his blond hair, the door pushed open and Dallas wandered in.

He stood near Gillis and began to wash his hands. Their eyes met in the mirror and Dallas grinned.

‘That red-head I’m with is trying to take me to the cleaners,’ he said breezily. ‘I guess you wouldn’t know if I am wasting my time and money?’

Gillis switched on his charm. It was remarkable how his face changed when he smiled. He looked almost boyish; certainly not twenty-five, and the worn-out look of dissipation seemed to melt away.

‘You’re on to a good thing,’ he said. ‘Zoe rates a lit le high, but she doesn’t shirk her responsibilities.

If she asks you home, you go. Of her kind, she’s unique.’

Dallas, who had seen the by-play at the bar, took out his cigarette-case and offered it.

‘As good as that, is she? I’m obliged to you. This is my first visit here, and I didn’t want to get off on the wrong foot. I’m in town for a couple of weeks on business, and this seemed the place to come to.’

Gillis lit the cigarette and inhaled gratefully.

‘It is,’ he said. ‘If you want a little fun and an accommodating girl you couldn’t do bet er.’

They stood talking for a few minutes about the club, then Dallas said, ‘Wel , maybe I’l be seeing you again. My name’s Ed Dal as.’

‘Mine’s Adam Gil is. Sure, I’l look out for you, but don’t let me keep you away from Zoe. You have a treat in store. She certainly knows how to please a guy when she feels that way,’ Gil is said. ‘I’m here three or four times a week. Maybe we can have a drink together some time.’