Strictly For Cash (12 page)
Authors: James Hadley Chase
I didn't know what to make of all this.
"Do you remember the phone number?"
"Lincoln Beach 4444. It's an easy one to remember."
"Who was this fella you called?"
"Nick Reisner. That's what she said his name was."
I felt spider's legs run up my spine.
"What exactly did she say?"
He thought for a long moment, scratching his head, his eyebrows drawn down in a frown.
"She said Ricca had met with an accident, and this Reisner fella was to come and pick them up."
"Did he?"
"Yeah,"
"Did you see him?"
He shook his head.
"No. I was asleep when he arrived."
I went on asking him questions, but there was nothing else of importance he could tell me. But I hadn't wasted my time. I bad established that after the car crash Della and I had gone to the cabin. That meant her husband, Paul, and not me, as Riskin had thought, had been left in the burning car. Who Reisner was was something I had to find out. At least I had his telephone number. Why had Della called me Ricca? Had she been the girl who had died in the second car smash or was it someone else?
Before I could make sense of any of this, I had to get a bit more information. I thanked the old man for his help, and went back to where I had parked the car.
Around eight o'clock I drove into Lincoln Beach. At that hour in the morning the streets were almost deserted. I could tell at a glance this town was a millionaire's playground. The shops, buildings, the flowers growing along the sidewalks and the neat-ness all pointed to money. I found an hotel in one of the side streets.
Two bell-hops and the head porter who looked like an Admiral of the Fleet helped me out of the car and carried the black pigskin case and two other cases into the reception lobby. They gave me a room big enough to garage three four-ton trucks, and a bathroom that was so luxurious I was scared to use it.
I lay on the bed and slept for three hours. After that all-night run I was dead beat. Around eleven-thirty I took the black pigskin suitcase down to the car. I wasn't going to be parted from that for a moment. I locked it in the boot, then drove to Roosevelt Boulevard, the main shopping centre.
There were a lot of cars drifting up and down the broad street and quite a crowd of people on the sidewalks. Most of them were in beach dress; some of the girls were practically naked, but no one paid them any attention. I parked behind a big Packard and went into a drug store.
There was one thing I had to find out. I shut myself in a phone booth and dialled Lincoln Beach 4444.I listened to the burr-burr-burr of the ringing tone, and my heart skipped a beat when a girl's voice said, "Good morning. This is the Lincoln Beach Casino at your service."
"Connect me with Nick Reisner," I said, and my voice croaked.
"What was that again, please?"
"I said connect me with Nick Reisner."
"Mr. Reisner is no longer with us. Who is that calling?"
I ran a dry tongue over dryer lips.
"I'm a friend of his. I've just hit town. Where can I find him?"
"I'm sorry." She sounded embarrassed. "Mr. Reisner died."
"He did?" I tried to make my voice surprised. "I didn't know. When was that?"
"July 30th."
The day after he had come to the cabin and had taken Della and me away. I was getting the shakes again.
"What happened to him?"
"Will you hold it a moment, please?"
"Hey! Don't go off the line . . ."
There was a long pause. Sweat began to run down my face. Then there was a click, and a voice asked, "Who is calling?" A voice that came from a fat throat: Ricca's voice, I didn't say anything. I held the receiver against my ear, listening to his heavy breathing, aware of a cold chill creeping up my spine.
"Who is that?" he repeated. "Is it you, Johnny?"
I still said nothing. I wanted to put down the receiver, but that heavy breathing and that fat, oily voice hypnotized me.
Then suddenly another voice chipped in: a harsh, shouting voice.
"This is Police Captain Hame talking. Trace this call, miss!"
I hung up then and walked rapidly out of the store to my car. I had learned little, and I had risked much. It had been a bad move to have let them know I was in town.
I sat in the car, my hat pulled down over my eyes, my fingers on the gun butt, and waited. I didn't have to wait long. Their organization was pretty efficient. I was expecting cops, but it wasn't a police car I saw shooting along the boulevard. It was a big, black Cadillac. It pulled up outside the drug store, within fifty feet of me.
Two short, square-shouldered men got out, crossed the sidewalk and entered the drug store. The last two men I expected to see again on this earth: Pepi and Benno.
VII
I lit a cigarette with an unsteady hand. Where had these two sprung from ? The obvious explanation was they had teamed up with Ricca. I remembered then that Waller, the Negro, had said they would keep after me until they had cornered me. I had completely forgotten them, but apparently they hadn't forgotten me.
I remained in the car, waiting. After a minute or so they came out of the drug store and paused on the sidewalk to look to right and left. Then they got into the Cadillac and drove away.
It seemed I was now up against stiff opposition. I had been ready to tackle Ricca on his own, but I wasn't too sure of my chances when it came to a combination of Ricca, Pepi and Benno. Those two lengthened the odds against me.
But no matter what happened to me, they were not going to get their hooks into that money. Now they knew I was in town I would be crazy to carry all that money around with me. I had to find a safe place to stash it.
I drove back to my hotel. The head porter sprang forward to open the car door.
"I'm not getting out," I said. "Is there a safe deposit around here?"
"First on your left, sir," he told me. "You can't miss it. The best there is." He was right about not missing it. It was about twenty storeys high and occupied half the block. There were five uniformed guards on the sidewalk, armed to the teeth* and tough enough to scare any Chi hood out of his skin.
I pulled up and got out of the car.
One of the guards came over. The others watched me.
"I want to leave a suitcase," I said. "What do I do?"
"You have it with you, sir?"
I unlocked the boot and hauled out the case. He made to take it, but I waved him back.
"I'm not as weak as I look. Just tell me where to go."
"If you'll follow me, sir."
He took me into a vast reception lobby, surrounded by a wall of steel bars as thick as my wrist. On a low balcony surrounding the lobby, guards patrolled, automatic rifles cradled in their arms. There'd be no smash-and-grab raid in this place.
He led me to a pale young man who could have been a foreign prince, but obviously wasn't, as he stood up and bowed.
"Mr. Evesham will look after you, sir," the guard said, and went away.
"I want to deposit this suitcase," I said. "Can you fix it?"
Mr. Evesham, with another bow, said he would be happy to be of service.
"Do you wish to rent one of our strong rooms?"
I said I did.
"Will you come with me?"
We took the elevator to the fifth floor, walked along a corridor to a steel-mesh gate. A guard opened it and saluted.
"Let me have the key to room 46," Evesham said. He sounded like a prince when he was giving orders.
The guard produced a key, and a door was unlocked and opened. We entered a small room, steel lined, about the size of a prison cell, and furnished with two easy chairs, a table and a fitted grey carpet. Facing us was a wall safe, "Good enough to sleep in," I said.
"Some of our clients like to consult their papers without taking them away," Evesham explained. "We try to make them as comfortable as possible." He turned to the safe. "The letters of the combination make up the word 'economic'. Will you remember that?"
I said I would remember it.
"Perhaps you would care to open the safe yourself? All you have to do . . ."
"Yeah, I know," I said. "I've handled a job like this before."
I spun the knob, pausing at each letter. When I had spelt out the complete word, there was a click and the door swung open.
"When you shut the door, the combination is automatically scrambled," Evesham went on. "And the safe is self locking."
"That's fine," I said.
"The key to-this vault is kept with the guard. Our clients are not allowed to take keys off the premises. Have you any special instructions for us? Do you wish anyone to come here, or only yourself?"
"No one is to touch the safe unless I'm with them," I said. "Will your guard know me?"
He allowed himself a princely smile.
"When you opened the safe your photograph was automatically taken. It will be lodged in the guard-house and checked when you apply for the key."
"You certainly have thought this thing out."
"Perhaps you will come downstairs now and complete the formalities, sir?"
"I'd like to get the hang of the safe and check through the contents of my bag before I leave," I said. "Would it be all right if I joined you in a few minutes?"
"Certainly. You know where to find me. The guard will direct you to the elevator."
When he had gone I opened the suitcase and took from it ten one-hundred-dollar bills. That amount would hold me for a few days. As I tucked the roll into my hip pocket I felt the bun of the .22. I had the .38 in my coat pocket, and I didn't figure I'd need two guns, so I dropped the 22 into the suitcase. Then I put the case into the safe and shut the door.
Twenty minutes later I was on my way to 3945, Apartment 4, Franklin Boulevard.
I hummed under my breath as I drove. For the first time since the suitcase had come into my possession I was relaxed and at ease. The money was safe. Neither Ricca nor Benno nor Pepi could possibly get their hands on it.
A mile or so along Franklin Boulevard I spotted the house: a big place set in its own grounds: a little run to seed, unpretentious and far from gaudy. I kept straight on. At the next intersection I saw a filling-station. I swung the car into the circular drive-in and pulled up. An attendant came over. "Okay for me to leave this heap for a while?"
"As long as you like."
I walked back along the boulevard and paused at the double gates of 3945. There was a short drive leading directly to the house. No one appeared to be watching at the windows or hiding in the shrubbery, I knew I was taking a risk coming here, but if I could get into the apartment I was hoping I'd find something that would jog my memory to life again. There might be letters, a photograph or even a diary. I figured it was worth the risk.
I walked up the steps into the lobby. The stairs faced me. On the fourth floor I found Apartment 4.
I pulled out the .38 and held it down by my side, then sank my thumb into the bell-push.
There was a long silence. I stood waiting, not expecting anyone to answer the door, but ready if they did. I rang again. I could hear the bell. Then I heard something else that brought me to a stiff, alert attention. I heard the sound of footsteps on the other side of the door.
I waited, the gun ready. The door opened. A girl stood in the doorway: a girl with thick, short hair like burnished copper, whose big, startled eyes were as blue as the sky on a hot summer's day.
It was Ginny!
I stood there, transfixed, staring at her. The sight of her ripped away the blanket of fog that had hung over my mind. It was like a blind man suddenly being able to see.
"Oh, Johnny," she cried. "You've come back!"
Then everything seemed to happen at once. Terror jumped into her eyes. Her mouth opened to scream. I heard the swish of a descending cosh, and then a dazzling white light exploded inside my head. I groped wildly for her as I began to fall, but she was no longer there. I went on falling, down and down, out of the present into the past.
PART THREE
FLASHBACK
I
A WOMAN screamed, but it wasn't Ginny.
I lifted a hand that felt as heavy as lead and groped into space, but found nothing. I tried to sit up, but the effort was too much for me.
The woman suddenly stopped screaming. The only sound I now heard was my own breathing. Each breath came very lightly as if it were going to be the last. "Johnny!"
I knew that voice: a voice out of the past; Della's voice.
My mind groped to remember. I felt again the crushing punch the Kid had given me. I saw Della again, her black eyes twin explosions as she screamed: "Get up and fight, you quitter!"
Somehow I got my eyes open. The darkness bothered me. There should have been blazing lights coming down on me from the stadium batteries. I found myself thinking the Kid must have hit me with a hammer; that maybe he had blinded me. I struggled up in a sitting position.
"Johnny! Say something! Are you badly hurt?"
Della was bending over me. Beyond her I could see the outlines of trees against the night sky. Then I remembered the car coming at us like a bat out of hell, heard again the grinding, crunching noise as it side-swiped us, and felt again the sensation of flying through space.
"I'm all right," I said. "Let me alone." I put my hand to my face. It felt wet and sticky. "What happened?"
"You must get up and help me," she said, her voice urgent. "I think he's dead."
"Dead? Who?"
"Paul! Come on, Johnny, don't just sit there. Help me!"
"Okay, okay; give me a minute."
My head began to pound and ache as I struggled to my knees. I waited a moment or so, then got to my feet. If she hadn't steadied me I would have fallen flat on my face.
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