Strictly for Cash Page 14

  I looked up. A few of the rich sofa-pets were hanging over the verandah rail staring at us. I

  got in under the steering-wheel.

  “We’ll go and look at the town,” she said. “Drive to the gates and I’ll tell you from there.”

  I switched on, trod on the starter and drove the car down the broad carriageway.

  “You still haven’t answered my question.”

  She turned her head: her face was expressionless, and the dark-green sun-glasses masked

  her eyes.

  “I’m not trying to tell you anything. All this is yours and mine until they find out he’s dead.

  That’s a fact, isn’t it, Johnny?”

  “Yeah, I guess that’s right, but there’s still the half million. You make it sound as if that

  was nothing. It’ll buy something, won’t it?”

  “Do you think it could buy the casino and all that goes with it?”

  “I guess not, but it could buy this car and a lot of other things.”

  “Have you thought how long a quarter of a million would last you, Johnny?”

  “I’d invest it. It’d pay off a respectable income. What are you getting at?”

  “You wouldn’t have a lot left to invest by the time you had bought a car, a house and a

  wardrobe. I know I wouldn’t.”

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  “What’s on your mind?” I asked, sure now she was preparing the ground for something. “I

  thought all you wanted was the half million.”

  “Turn right at the gates and then follow the main road,” she said, and leaned forward to

  wave to the guards who were opening the gates. “Nothing’s on my mind - yet. I’m wondering

  how we’ll feel in a year or so, knowing Reisner’s the boss of Lincoln Beach, and you and I

  have only a lump sum that’ll melt like snow in the sun, and not a chance of making any

  more.”

  “Now, wait a minute,” I said. “We’re talking about half a million. That’s not going to melt

  all that fast. You’re exaggerating, and besides, we haven’t even got that yet.”

  “That’s right, Johnny.”

  I couldn’t figure out what she was getting at, but I didn’t like her tone nor the hard look in

  her eyes.

  “We’re going to Bay Street,” she said, opening her bag for a cigarette. “Ever heard of Bay

  Street?”

  “No. What’s special about it?”

  “Paul built every brick of it. They call it the Kasbah of Florida. I don’t know what the take

  is, but I do know Paul collects fifteen per cent, and it’s free of tax.”

  “This husband of yours must have been quite a guy.”

  “He was. None of the others have the magic touch Paul had.”

  Eventually we arrived at Bay Street: a misnomer to call it a street. Actually it was no better

  than an alley, about a hundred yards long and scarcely wide enough to take two cars - but

  what an alley!

  I had thought the honky-tonk district of Pittsburgh was an eye-opener, but it had nothing on

  Bay Street. Packed shoulder to shoulder, amid blatant signs that left nothing to the imagination, were burlesque bars, saloons, palaces of peel, gambling-dens, brothels, a couple of

  dubious looking hotels, restaurants and gin dives.

  “Pull over to the parking-lot,” Della said. “We’ll walk.”

  “You mean Wertham owns this as well as the casino?” I asked, as I drove into the lot and

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  cut the engine.

  “He leases it to a syndicate with a controlling interest. He knew sooner or later the

  millionaires, their wives and girl friends would get tired of the luxury of the casino. So he

  created Bay Street where they could work off their repressions, and he could still make

  money out of them. Handled properly, vice pays dividends, and nowhere is it better handled

  than here.”

  We walked across the street to a large building plastered with neon lights and crude, life-size pictures of half-dressed showgirls.

  “Liberty Inn,” Della said. “It’s run by Zoe Eisner. She’s big people in Bay Street. You’d

  better come in and meet her. And, Johnny, remember you’re big people, too. Ricca is well

  known by reputation heed.”

  We went in and met Zoe Eisner: a gigantic, middle-aged, chemical blonde who must have

  weighed over two hundred pounds. She made a great fuss of Della and treated me with a

  deference that embarrassed me, insisting on serving champagne while we talked. The

  speciality of Liberty Inn, she told me with a leer, were muscle dancers and strippers.

  “They’re hand picked, Mr. Ricca. We change them every month, and they come from the

  four corners of the earth. You want to come in around midnight when we’re really kicking the

  can around. It’s someihing to see.”

  From the Liberty Inn we went across to the Pump Room, a plush and gold gambling saloon,

  where I was introduced to Jerry Itta, a hawk-faced man in shirt sleeves who ran the joint. He

  told me the poker game in session at the moment had been on for three days.

  “We get ten per cent of the final hand,” he said, chewing on his dead cigar. “And by the

  look of it, it’ll be worth five grand.”

  Both Zoe Eisner and Itta seemed scared of Della, and they enquired after Wertham with

  bated breath. It was the same story wherever we went. Our visits were brief, our reception

  royal, and Wertham’s power always obvious.

  “Time we got back,” Della said after we had met a dozen or so characters and looked over

  most of the sin-dives. “We have a date with Nick.”

  “There must be a fortune tied up in that alley,” I said as I got into the car. “Don’t the cops

  interfere with this set-up?”

  “They would if they weren’t taken care of,” Della returned, and laughed. “Captain of Police

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  Hame collects five hundred a week from Reisner. You’ll meet him before long. He’s all right

  80 long as he gets his money, but if it stopped, he’d slam us shut overnight.”

  “How do you reckon this set-up will make out now Wertham’s dead ?” I asked, steering the

  Buick through the stream of traffic.

  “I don’t think Nick can handle it. Zoe and Itta have ideas, and would like to break away

  from us if they dared. That’s why I wanted them to meet you.”

  “What’s that got to do with it?” She gave me a queer little smile. “It may have plenty to do

  with it, Johnny.”

  VI

  Reisner was sitting behind a big, flat-topped desk, a cigarette drooping from his thin lips.

  To his right, lounging in an armchair, was a short, thick-set man whose iron-grey hair was

  clipped short, and his square, brutal face burned red by the sun. He jumped to his feet when

  he saw Della, a wide grin lighting up his face.

  “Why, Mrs. Wertham, this is a surprise and a pleasure,” he said, taking her hand. “It must

  be almost a year since we last met. How are you? Still looking as beautiful as ever, I see.”

  Della gave him a bright, provocative smile, and allowed him to hold her hand a little longer

  than necessary.

  “It’s nice to see you again. I’d like you to meet Johnny Ricca who’s in charge of the Los

  Angeles casino.” Turning to me, she went on, “This is Captain of Police Jim Hame. He’s a

  very good friend of ours.”

  Hame lost his smile as he shook hands with me. He tried to crack my knuckles, but my grip

  was a little stronger than his.

  “Glad to know you, Ricca,” he said curtly
. It seemed he only kept his charm for the ladies.

  “I’ve been hearing about you.”

  I said I had been hearing about him, too. Reisner got to his feet and began to mix cocktails.

  “Jim has bad news for you, Mrs. Wertham,” he said as he gave Della a dry martini. “Tell

  her, Jim.”

  Hame settled himself in his armchair again. He took a highball from Reisner with a grunt of

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  thanks.

  “We’ve found your car,” he said.

  “You have?” Della’s expression was a nice blend of surprise and admiration. “Why, that’s

  quick work, Captain.”

  “It was easy,” Hame said, and his cold, blue eyes brooded over her face. “A report came in

  last night, and when Nick phoned this morning it clinched it.”

  “Clinched - what?”

  “There was a smash on the road out of Pelotta last night. Both drivers were killed. One of

  them was driving your car. It’s completely burned out.”

  Her look of startled consternation was just right.

  “Burned out? Paul will be furious!”

  “Yeah, that was a swell car,” Hame said, stroking his heavy jowl. “How come you give this

  fella a ride?”

  While Della was going through the story again, Reisner came over to me.

  “What’ll you drink? Scotch?”

  Without thinking I said, “I don’t touch the stuff. I’ll have a beer.”

  The black eyes surveyed me. “I thought you lived on Scotch.”

  Then I remembered Ricca was a whisky-soak and my heart skipped a beat.

  “I’m on the wagon now. I’ve taken up beer.”

  I don’t know if he spotted my shifty look, but his face was expressionless as he opened a

  can of beer.

  Hame was saying, “Dangerous to give a stranger a ride, Mrs. Wertham. You should know

  that.”

  “I had Johnny with me. It never crossed my mind.”

  I thought it was time I showed a little interest in the proceedings.

  “Who was the guy, anyway?”

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  Both Reisner and Hame looked at me.

  “There wasn’t much left of him by the time we got him out of the car,” Hame said, “but

  he’s been identified. His name is Johnny Farrar: a third-rate fighter who was hitch-hiking his

  way to Miami. He stopped off at Pelotta and got himself a fight at the stadium. After the fight

  he disappeared. He must have taken a liking to the Bentley.”

  “You certainly have collected a lot of information fast,” I said. “Nice work.”

  “Nothing to it, once you know how and have got the organization,” Hame said, lifting his

  massive shoulders. “Farrar had a silver medallion in his pocket. A woman who runs a cafe in

  Pelotta gave it to him. She identified it, and a guy named Brant, who gave Farrar a suit of

  clothes, identified what was left of the suit.”

  “Well, I don’t give a damn who he was,” Della said. “It’s the car I’m worrying about. Paul

  will be furious. He had the body specially built.”

  “Just one of those things,” Reisner said. “I’ve contacted the insurance people. They’ve

  agreed to settle.”

  “Thank you, Nick.”

  “Just to keep the record straight,” Hame said, looking at me, “can you give me a description

  of Farrar? I have one from Brant and this woman. I’d like to see if it checks with your man.”

  I hadn’t thought of that angle. Did they suspect I was Farrar ? For a moment I was

  flustered.

  Della cut in smoothly before I could think what to say.

  “Funnily enough he wasn’t unlike Johnny to look at: same build, fair and tall. He wore a

  white linen suit, a green and brown tie and a cream silk shirt.”

  “That’s the fella,” Hame said. “Well, what do you know? Nick and I were a little foxed.

  The description of Farrar seemed oddly like Ricca. We couldn’t figure it out.”

  “He was very like Johnny,” Della said, completely unruffled. “But Johnny wouldn’t have it.

  I pointed it out at the time, but I guess he thinks he’s a lot better looking than he really is.”

  That got a laugh from Hame, but Reisner continued to stare thoughtfully at me.

  Hame rose to his feet.

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  “Well, I guess that takes care of that,” he said. “I’ll be running along. We won’t need either

  of you at the inquest. Our yarn to the coroner will be that Farrar stole your car from the

  parking-lot, and you didn’t catch sight of him. Okay?”

  “That’s very sweet of you,” Della said.

  “Glad to save you any bother, Mrs. Wertham.” Again she let him hold her hand longer than

  necessary. “Look me up when you’re passing headquarters. Always glad to have a beautiful

  woman in the office.” He nodded to me, “So long, Ricca.”

  When he had gone, I said, “Nice obliging cop.”

  “So he should be,” Reisner said curtly. “We pay him enough.” He moved to his desk and

  sat down. “Well, now we’ve got that straightened out, let’s get down to business.”

  “Yes,” Della said, “Paul wanted Johnny and me to check the books, Nick.”

  Reisner favoured her with a cold stare.

  “You? First time you’ve had anything to do with the business, isn’t it?”

  There was a short pause while they looked at each other, then Della laughed.

  “I have to make a start sometime. As Paul couldn’t come himself, he asked me to represent

  him.”

  Reisner picked up a paper-knife and began to dig holes with it in his blotter. There was a

  vague littie smile hovering around his thin lips.

  “So you’re his representative? That’s interesting. Have you got it in writing?”

  Della’s eyes snapped.

  “Writing? Are you trying to be funny, Nick?”

  “No.” Reisner leaned back in his chair. “Paul told me Ricca was to check the books. Okay,

  he can check them, but Paul didn’t say anything about you taking a look, and you don’t until I

  have Paul’s authority.”

  “Paul told me she and I were to work together,” I said, feeling it was time I took a hand in

  this. “He said she was to see everything.”

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  Reisner dug more holes in the blotter.

  “I’m not interested in what Paul said to you. He didn’t say it to me.”

  “Now, look …” I began heatedly, but Della cut in.

  “Keep out of this, Johnny. I can handle it.” She stood up. “Paul thinks you’ve been dipping

  into the reserve,” she went on to Reisner. “We’re here to check it. A stall like this won’t get

  you anywhere. If you don’t want to get the heave, you’ll give me the keys.”

  Reisner threw back his head and laughed. He seemed genuinely amused.

  “Who’s going to give me the heave?” he asked. “That’s funny. When Paul walks in here

  and tells me to get out, I’ll get out, and not before. If you and Ricca imagine you can push me

  around, you’ve got another think coming. You’re both off your home ground, and you’ll find

  out just how far off you are if you crowd me much more.”

  “Don’t be a fool, Nick,” Della said, her face white. “That’s not the way to talk to me, and

  you know it!”

  Reisner lifted his eyebrows mockingly.

  “But it’s you who’re putting on the pressure. I’m merely obeying orders. Ricca can look at

  the books whenever he likes. If Paul wants you to stick your pretty nose into the business -

&
nbsp; and I doubt very much if he does -I want a written order from him. Sorry, Mrs. Wertham, but

  that’s final!”

  I thought she was going to hit him, but she didn’t. She moved away from his desk, her fist

  clenched, her eyes dark explosions.

  “We’ll see about that,” she said, then turning to me, went on, “Come on, Johnny, we’ll

  have lunch.”

  She went out of the room without another look at Reisner. I got slowly to my feet.

  Reisner put down the paper-knife and reached for a cigarette.

  “Women are funny animals,” he said as he lit up, “and she’s no exception. Well, any time

  you want to get down to business, you’ll find me right here.”

  “You’re playing this wrong,” I said. “I heard Paul tell her to check the books.”

  “Too bad I didn’t,” Reisner said, and smiled. “Too damned bad.” He slipped his hand into

  his pocket and took out a gold cigarette-case. “By the way, Ricca, you left this lying around

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  in your cabin. Your servant brought it to me.” He laid the case on the desk and poked at it

  with a long finger while his eyes searched my face.

  I stared at the case, then my heart turned over. It was Wertham’s case; the case I had found

  in his suit and had been fool enough to keep instead of throwing away.

  “Why, thanks,” I said, and my voice was husky. “Careless of me.”

  I reached forward to pick it up, but his hand covered it.

  “Is it yours?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I was under the impression it belongs to Paul. It has his initials on it.”

  “What of it?”

  “I’m curious to know why you have it. Did he give it to you?”

  We stared at each other. I don’t suppose I looked any more guilty than any sneak-thief

  caught in the act.

  “He lent it to me. I liked the design. I was going to have it copied.”

  Even to me it sounded terrible.

  Reisner’s eyes bored into my face.

  “You were ? I see. You’d better take more care of it.” He lifted his hand and sat back. “Not

  like Paul to lend his things. He’s always been funny about that.”

  “Not with me.” I picked up the case, feeling a trickle of sweat run down the back of my ear.

  “Well, I guess I’ll get along.”

  “Oh, Ricca …”

  I turned at the door, wondering what was coming.