What's Better Than Money (26 page)

There was sweat on his face as he snarled, “You’re lying! There wasn’t a recorder in that briefcase! You don’t bluff me!”

I stood up.

“You could be right, but you can’t prove it,” I said. “Go ahead and have me arrested and then see what happens. Throw your pension away and get yourself a fifteen year stretch. Why should I care? That’s up to you. If you think I’m bluffing, call my bluff. If I’m arrested, it’s my bet you’ll be arrested in a day or so after I’m in a cell. My bank has my authority to hand my tape to the Los Angeles District Attorney together with a statement made by me that covers your attempt to blackmail me if I am arrested. I’m calling your bluff, you cheap crook! Now go ahead and call mine!”

I walked out of the bar and across the courtyard to my car.

The sun was shining. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky.

Driving fast, I headed back to Holland City, back to Sarita and the bridge.

The End