Strictly For Cash (18 page)

Reisner was standing just inside the room. His mouth was fixed in a stiff little smile, and the .45 automatic in his hand looked as big as a cannon.

"And don't make any silly moves," he went on, not raising his voice. He jerked the gun to an armchair near me. "Sit down, Farrar. And you, Mrs. Wertham, sit on the divan. If either of you make a move I'll drill you and think up a reason for it after,"

Della collapsed on the divan. She looked as if she were going to faint. I sat in the armchair, a tightness in my throat that made breathing difficult.

"That's fine," he went on, came farther into the room and closed the door with his heel. "Well, you two certainly know how to pass the time.'* He moved to the centre of the room. The gun pointed to a spot just between us. "Played it pretty rough, didn't you?" he said. "Didn't it occur to either of you I'd come back last night to see what you were up to? Imagine my surprise when I found one of the cabins empty." He looked at me, his eyes glittering. "What have you done with Wertham?"

Neither of us said anything.

"Is he dead?" He hooked a chair towards him and sat down.

"Did you kill him?"

"Are you crazy?" Della said. Her voice sounded as if she were speaking through locked teeth. "He's on his way to Paris."

"On his way to hell, you mean," Reisner said. "Did you really think you could get away with this wet idea? The moment I saw you I knew something was phoney. Paul wouldn't let you travel with Ricca or anyone else all the way from Los Angeles to Lincoln Beach without someone to keep an eye on you. You've quite a reputation for taking a tumble in the hay whenever there's an opportunity, and Paul knows that as well as I do."

"How dare you talk to me like that!" Della said furiously.

"There were three of you in the car: you, Wertham and Farrar. One of you died," Reisner went on, crossing his legs. "This guy isn't Ricca, so that makes him Farrar. It makes the dead man Wertham. The set-up's gone sour. You may as well admit it."

"Wait, Nick," Della said, leaning forward, her clenched fists pressed tight between her knees. "You, I and Johnny can do a deal. No one but we three know Paul's dead. Cut us in on half shares and we'll work our passage. You can do with help now Paul is dead. You know I've picked up a lot of his ideas. I could be useful to you, Nick."

Reisner seemed surprised. He glanced at me.

"Where does he come in? Why should I cut him in on anything?"

"Take a look at him," Della said. "Don't you think he'd scare Ricca? He's a gunman as well as a fighter. You'd need someone like him around once the news leaked out."

I sat still, listening, as surprised as Reisner seemed to be.

"And suppose I didn't want to share?" Reisner asked quietly. "What then?"

Della licked her lips. Her face was still white, but she had steadied herself. She was gambling with her last buck. You could tell that by looking at her. She was playing a king, and only an ace could beat it, and she wasn't sure if Reisner held the ace.

"Then we talk, Nick. We tell Hame, Ricca, Itta and Zoe, and let them move in. I don't think you're big enough to handle them all."

Reisner smiled.

"So he really is dead. Well, well, that's the best news I've heard in thirty-eight years. Paul dead, huh? And a damn good riddance. It's something I've been praying for."

Della's hand closed on a yellow and red cushion lying at her side. She gripped it, a fixed smile on her white face.

"When we hit that car, he was thrown out," she said. "He broke his neck."

"That's your story," Reisner returned, still smiling, "but suppose you two killed him? Has it crossed your minds I could slap a murder rap on you both and make it stick? Hame would frame you two for a grand. He's a little short of money."

I felt suddenly cold.

"That still wouldn't stop the news leaking out," Della said, but her face stiffened.

"That's right," Reisner said, "but maybe it can't be helped. Now look, this is the way I see it. I happen to overhear you two talking, and I get the idea you killed Paul. I walk in on you and Farrar pulls a gun. I beat him to the draw. I'm pretty quick with a rod, and Hame knows it. You pull a gun, too.
So you both get shot. I then
put a proposition up to Hame. He gets a slice from the casino if he takes care of me. He might even be persuaded to toss Itta and Zoe in the can until I get things organized. There'd be no difficulty in making a charge against them. Then by the time Ricca's got over his drinking jag - oh, yes, Hollenheimer told me about that - it'd be too late for him to start trouble. How do you like it?"

"You wouldn't want to cut Hame in," Della said, and shifted forward. "He'd take the lot in time. He's like that, and you know it."

Reisner gnawed at his lower lip, his eyes thoughtful. "Maybe," he said, "but it's a way out of this mess." "There's another way," Della said softly. "What's that?"

She turned to look at me. The expression in her eyes set my heart pounding.

"We could kill you, Nick. That'd be the best way. We were talking about it when you came in."

Reisner continued to smile, but his eyes turned to ice.

"Yeah, I heard you. That's why I like my idea, and that's why it's going to be my idea."

"Not with the safety-catch on, Nick."

It was well done. Even I looked at the gun. Reisner's eyes shifted from us and looked down. Della threw the cushion she had been grasping in one swift, violent movement. It caught Reisner in the face. She flung herself off the bed and clamped her hands on his hand and the gun, wedging her finger against the trigger so he couldn't fire.

I jumped from my chair as Reisner, swearing softly, staggered to his feet, his fist raised to club Della as she hung with all her weight on his gun arm.

I hit him on the side of his face with a long, looping right that exploded on his cheek-bone with the impact of a steam-hammer. He wasn't built for a punch like that. I felt the bone splinter as he shot backwards, dragging her with him. He cannoned into the wall, bounced away and began to sag as I stepped up close and smashed a right to his jaw. He went down, his face coming squarely on a big glass bowl of floating dahlia heads that stood on a table. The bowl flew into fragments, and the table smashed like matchwood. Water and flowers scattered over Della and the carpet.

She screamed as the water hit her, but she didn't let go of the gun until I grabbed her wrist and pulled her to her feet.

We stood side by side, looking down at Reisner. He had rolled over on his back. A long splinter of glass from the broken bowl, like a tiny dagger, had gone deep into his right eye. His lips were drawn back from his teeth in a snarl of pain and fear, and his right cheek was a pulp of splintered bone, teeth and blood. He looked terrible.

Della drew closer to me. I could hear her breathing: quick, short gasps, rasping in a dry throat.

Neither of us moved. We just stared down at him.

He was dead.

          IT was like a movie-projector operating inside my head, throwing images of the past on to the white screen that was my mind. I saw again the room and Della in her blue wrap that hung open to show her long, slender legs and the beauty of her body. I saw myself with blood out of my face, my fists clenched, and a sick feeling deep inside me, knowing I had killed him, and that I'd carry the image of his battered face with me to the grave.

"He's dead, Johnny."

She gave a little sigh, then stepped back, gathering her wrap about her, turning to look at me.

I didn't say anything. I couldn't. This was murder. All right, I hadn't meant to kill him, but I had killed him, and he was there, dead on the floor, and that made it murder.

"He's bleeding!"

She ran into the bathroom and came back with a bath-towel and did something I couldn't have done. She caught hold of his long, chalk-white hair, lifted his head and slid the towel under it.

There was blood on her hands when she stood up, and I looked at the red stains in horror.

"Johnny!"

"I've killed him!"

"Pull yourself together!" Her voice was sharp. "No one knows but you and I. This is what I've been praying for."

I remembered Reisner had said the same thing when he had heard Wertham was dead. Some prayers to have! That made them a pair.

"But they'll find out," I said. "We've got to get out of here!"

She came up to me.

"Don't be a fool! Can't you see this is what we want? This is the set-up! He's dead, and we can take over. There's no one to stop us now!"

I stared at her. There was a ruthless look of triumph in her black, glittering eyes, and her scarlet lips were parted. There was no fear in that hard, lovely face: only triumph, and a suppressed and violent excitement.

I grabbed hold of her arm and shook her.

"It's you who're the fool!" I shouted at her. "We've killed him - you and I! They'll come after us! They'll catch us and they'll fry us! Don't you think you're going to get away with this! You're not! Maybe we can hide the body for an hour or so, but they'll find him …"

She put her hand over my mouth. "Sit down, Johnny, and be quiet. It's going to be all right. Keep your nerve: that's all you have to do. I know how to handle this. It's going to be all right."

I sat down, my back to Reisner's body. All right, I admit it. I was in a bad way. I had killed a man, and it was like taking a punch in the belly.

"What are you going to do?" I managed to jerk out.

"Look at his face. Doesn't that tell you what to do?"

I couldn't look at his face.

"What are you getting at? You make me sick! Haven't you a spark of feeling? How can you look at his face?"

She came around the bed to stand in front of me.

"Perhaps I've more guts than you, Johnny. Aren't the stakes worth while? He was going to shoot us! You killed him in self-defence. Why should you care about him?"

"It's murder! It's something that's going to live with me! It's something that'll poison my whole goddamn life!"

"In a week you'll have forgotten he ever existed. But if you don't pull yourself together and help me, we'll both go to the chair. Can't you see that, you poor, frightened booby?"

Slowly I turned and looked at him. He was still a horrible sight, with the splinter of glass in his eye and his face smashed and bloody.

"He could have been mauled by an animal," she said softly. "And that's what they are going to think." She glanced up. "Don't you see the way out, Johnny? All we have to do is to drop him into the lion's pit. It's as simple as that. He feeds them. He even goes into their cages. Sooner or later there was bound to be an accident. Everyone knows the risks he took. Hame knows, and that's important. They won't think anything of it if we don't make mistakes. It's fool-proof."

I could only sit and stare at her.

"You mean you've just thought that up?"

"Why not? You have only to look at him to see it's the way out."

Spider's legs ran up my spine. She was incredible. The moment she was in a jam, her brain devised a way out. Wertham hadn't been cold before she had thought up how she could use me to gain control of the casino. Reisner hadn't stopped bleeding before she had a fool-proof idea to explain away his death. And it was fool-proof if we could only get him to the pit without anyone seeing us. She just wasn't human.

"It's all right, isn't it, Johnny?"

She looked up at me, her black eyes glittering, her fingers blood-stained, and she was like a lovely, gruesome ghoul.

"Yes, it's all right if no one sees us." Already I was beginning to breathe more freely, and my heart eased off its violent hammering. "We can't do it until after dark."

"No. Stand up and let me look you over. Show me your hands." Her examination was searching and thorough, but finally she satisfied herself I had no blood on my clothes. "You're all right. Now, listen: go out into the grounds and be seen. Go and play a round of golf. If you can get someone to play with you, so much the better. Don't come back until midnight. If anyone asks you where Reisner is, tell them he's with me, and we're not to be disturbed."

"It's you who are crazy. If you can't play golf, have a swim or walk around or go to the bar! Do anything you damn well please, but get out of here and let them see you! You've got to keep them away from here. That's your job. You've got to make them think he and I are too busy to be disturbed. Get a grip on yourself. Play this wrong, and we're sunk!"

I drew in a deep breath.

"And what are you going to do?"

The awful little smile I had seen when she was a split second away from shooting me flickered across her mouth.

"I'm staying here - with him. I'm making sure no one gets in and finds him. That's what I'm going to do."

"You've got nine hours of it."

I longed to get away from that ghastly room, from her, from him. I wouldn't have stayed with that battered body for nine hours for all the money in the world.

I moved to the door.

"And, Johnny . . ."

I paused.