1972 - You're Dead Without Money Read online

  ‘Ah, Mr. Elliot . . . so good to see you again,’ he gushed. ‘Are you better now? Splendid . . . splendid. I was utterly shattered when I heard of the accident. Did you get my letter? I wrote . . . who didn’t? But you look so well! How wonderful!’

  ‘Claude around?’ Elliot asked abruptly. He hated being gushed over and specially by a queer.

  ‘Of course . . . a little occupied. You know how it is? Dear Claude works himself to death. Is there something I can do . . . something I can show you, Mr. Elliot?’ The small eyes were probing, the lipless mouth revealed white teeth in a smile that didn’t reach the eyes.

  ‘I want Claude,’ Elliot said. ‘Hurry it up, Louis. I’m busy too.’

  ‘Of course . . . a tiny moment.’

  Elliot watched him weave his way gracefully down the long aisle that led to Kendrick’s reception room. Kendrick refused to call this room in which he did all his big deals an office: a vast room with a picture window looking on to the sea, sumptuously furnished with some of the most impressive and expensive antiques that Claude possessed with paintings worth a fortune hanging on the silk covered walls.

  While he waited, Elliot moved uneasily around the vast gallery examining the various objets d’art set out temptingly in glass cases. During the three minutes he waited he spotted several things he felt the urge to buy, but he knew Kendrick never gave credit no matter how important the client.

  Louis minced towards him.

  ‘Please come. . . Claude is so happy! You know, Mr. Elliot, you have been neglecting us. It must be four months since you have visited us.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Elliot followed Louis’s slim back. He entered Kendrick’s reception room.

  Claude Kendrick was standing by the window, staring down at the sea. He turned as Elliot came in and his fat face creased into a smile.

  What a freak!’ Elliot thought. ‘That godawful wig! He’s fatter than ever!’

  ‘My very dear Don,’ Kendrick said and enfolded Elliot’s hand in both his. Elliot felt as if his hand had been thrust into a bowl of warm, slightly moist dough. ‘How very good to see you again. You’re naughty to have neglected me. How is the poor foot . . . the poor darling?’

  ‘I wouldn’t know,’ Elliot said. ‘They dropped it in the furnace, I believe.’ Moving away from Kendrick’s overpowering massiveness, he sank on to a Louis XVI settee. ‘How are things with you?’

  ‘Fair . . . let us say we don’t grumble. We have much to be thankful for. And you, dear Don, how are things with you?’ Kendrick paused, putting his head on one side and a sly look came into his little eyes. ‘I heard about that dreadful Meyer - what a horrible man! I heard he won’t renew your contract. That man! I wouldn’t sell him one single thing in my beautiful gallery. He came to me once. He actually tried to bargain with me! There are people I can deal with and people I just can’t. There are people who fill me with revulsion. Meyer is that sort of people. You understand . . . of course you do! Is it true he won’t renew your contract?’

  ‘He would be crazy if he did,’ Elliot said. ‘Meyer’s all right. He’s in business to make money like you and me. I’ve got a tin foot, Claude, and that puts paid to my racket. I don’t blame Meyer. I’d have done the same thing if I had been in his place.’

  ‘There’s no pity in this horrid world.’ Kendrick grimaced. ‘But what am I thinking of? A little champagne . . . a whisky? Do have something?’

  ‘No, thanks.’

  There was a pause as Kendrick lowered his bulk into a special chair he had designed for himself: a wing backed chair, cleverly designed as an antique but reinforced with steel and covered with what looked like a Gobelin but was in fact a brilliant fake.

  ‘Louis tells me you are busy so I won’t keep you,’ Elliot went on. ‘You remember that jade collection you sold me?’

  ‘The jade? Of course.’ Kendrick’s eyes turned watchful. ‘A beautiful set. Do you want it cleaned, dear Don? Jade needs cleaning once in a while. It is so easy to neglect one’s treasures.’

  ‘I don’t want it cleaned . . . I want to sell it.’

  Kendrick took off his wig, polished his baldhead with a silk handkerchief, then replaced the wig a little crookedly.

  ‘You look a hell of a sight in that goddamn wig,’ Elliot said with a burst of irritation.

  ‘It has a psychological effect on me,’ Kendrick said. ‘When I lost all my hair I was in despair. You have no idea, cheri, how I suffered. I have always despised stupid men wearing wigs to make them look younger. So I bought this abortion and I have fun with it and yet I don’t go around bald. It is good for me and it amuses my friends and it gets talked about.’

  Elliot shrugged.

  ‘What about it? Are you in the market to buy jade?’

  ‘Cheri! I can’t believe you want to get rid of that lovely set! Perhaps you don’t realize . . . people talk about it. They envy you! It’s been mentioned three times during the years in the World of Art . . .’

  ‘I want to sell it.’ Elliot’s face was wooden. ‘What’s it worth, Claude?’

  A glazed look appeared in Kendrick’s eyes: it was a look that came when he moved from seller to buyer.

  ‘Worth?’ He lifted his massive shoulders. ‘It depends on who wants it. You appreciate it - I appreciate it. It is a rare and beautiful collection but it is, after all a specialized item. You don’t find people interested in big jade collections every day in the week.’ He paused to stare inquisitively at Elliot. ‘Are you planning to trade it in for something else, Donny boy? Have you seen something in my beautiful gallery that has caught your fancy? That Spode collection for instance or . . .’

  ‘I want to sell it for cash,’ Elliot said, ‘and for God’s sake, don’t call me Donny boy.’

  ‘So sorry. Cash?’ Kendrick made a grimace making him look like a dolphin which had bitten into a hook. ‘Well now, there’s a problem. If you were thinking of trading it in for something else I would be able to make you a cosy offer, but for cash . . .’

  ‘How much?’

  ‘I would have to see it again of course. People are so careless . . . it could have got chipped, but if it is in mint condition – as I sold it to you - I think I could offer . . . say, six thousand. Yes, I might go to six as you are a good friend of mine.’

  Blood rushed into Elliot’s face.

  ‘What the hell are you talking about? You stuck me for twenty-five thousand six hundred!’

  Kendrick lifted his fat hands and dropped them in a gesture of despair on his fat knees.

  ‘But that was four years ago, dear Don. Prices have slumped, especially with jade. People aren’t collecting jade anymore. Good china: Spode . . . Wedgwood . . . there’s interesting money there but not for the moment in jade. It’ll come back, of course. In another two or three years I could offer you something that would give you a profit.’ He appeared to hesitate, then went on, ‘But, if you really want quick cash and because you are my friend, I’ll take a risk. I will give you ten. That’s the absolute top and I could live to regret it.’

  Elliot shook his head.

  ‘No. I’ll try Miami. There are a couple of dealers there who could offer more. Okay, Claude . . . forget it.’

  ‘You’re not thinking of Morris Hervey and Winston Ackland, are you, cheri?’ Kendrick asked, his smile pityingly sad. ‘You mustn’t deal with them. Dreadful people and besides, they are up to their horrid eyes in jade. I did a deal with them three months ago before the bottom of the jade market dropped out. They would give you four.’

  Elliot experienced a feeling of defeat. He had to have cash.

  Maybe ten thousand was better than nothing. The jade collection meant nothing to him now. In fact, it bored him.

  ‘There’s this other junk you sold me, Claude,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to keep any of it. Right now, I want cash. How about taking the lot back?’

  Kendrick got up and walked to the cocktail cabinet, a magnificent piece of furniture of mother of pearl and tortoiseshell inlay. He poured two
stiff whiskies, added ice from the built-in refrigerator and put one of the glasses by Elliot’s side. Then he sat down and regarded Elliot with what appeared to be genuine sympathy.

  ‘Why not confide in me, dear Don? Things are tough? You owe money? You’ve been living too well? The wolf at the door?’

  Elliot reacted to this as if he had been flicked with a whip.

  ‘That’s none of your goddamn business and I don’t want your goddamn drink! I’m here to talk business . . . let’s talk business!’

  ‘I’m your friend,’ Kendrick said gently. ‘Please remember that. Any confidence given to me goes no further. I could help you, cheri, but naturally I think I am entitled to know how you are situated.’

  His quiet tone and his steady stare made Elliot realize that right now he was friendless. If this gross pansy with his ridiculous wig meant what he was saying, he could be crazy to ignore his offer to help.

  After a moment’s hesitation, he said, ‘Okay, Claude, I’ll tell you. The blunt fact is I’m broke and in debt. That damned Rolls isn’t paid for. All I have to call my own is the stuff you sold me.’

  Kendrick sipped his whisky.

  ‘No prospects?’

  ‘None. I’m washed up as a movie star. I’ve no acting talent. No - no prospects.’

  ‘We mustn’t look on the darkest side,’ Kendrick said as he stroked his big nose. ‘I won’t waste time saying I’m sorry although I am. You did have prospects but you were unlucky. We all could be unlucky. At least, unlike so many unlucky people, you have up to now had a merry life. What you want is immediate help. Suppose I send Louis up to your place and get him to make an inventory of the things you have? It is some time since you bought from me and I forget just what you have.’

  Elliot nodded.

  ‘Okay, but I don’t want Louis shooting his mouth around the City. It needs only a rumour that I’m in trouble for all my creditors to move in. I’ve got to have a lump of money by the end of the month . . . three weeks.’

  ‘What do you mean by a lump of money?’

  ‘To get me straight, I need at least a hundred and fifty thousand dollars. If I don’t get that, I’ll go bust and then no one gets anything.’

  Kendrick pursed his fat lips.

  ‘That’s quite a sum, but don’t despair. Let’s see what we can do. Louis will be with you tomorrow at ten. When he has made an inventory, we will have another talk.’

  ‘There’s that Chagall you unloaded on me. That would be worth a hell of a lot.’

  Kendrick looked sad.

  ‘Not a good one if I remember rightly. At that time people were crazy about any Chagall, but of course it has its value. You can rely on me. I will do my very best to be helpful.’

  Elliot got to his feet. He hadn’t much hope. He felt instinctively this could turn out to be a deal that would give him little and this fat queer much.

  ‘Okay, Claude, then I’ll leave it to you.’

  ‘Yes.’ Kendrick rubbed his smooth shaven jaw, then said casually, ‘You know Paul Larrimore I believe?’

  Surprised, Elliot stared at him.

  ‘I know him . . . what of it?’

  ‘A difficult man to get to know,’ Kendrick said, his fat face sad. ‘Rather a recluse, wouldn’t you say?’

  ‘He keeps to himself if that’s what you mean. I wouldn’t call him a recluse. Why bring him up?’

  ‘You and he, I understand, are friends.’

  ‘I guess so. What’s all this about?’

  ‘I’m anxious to get into contact with him, but he refuses to see me. I find this a little churlish and I was wondering if you could break the ice for me.’

  ‘Larrimore is tricky.’ Elliot shook his head. ‘He doesn’t welcome people. What do you want with him?’

  ‘Stamps.’ Kendrick smiled. ‘I’ve been thinking of going into the rare stamp market. Larrimore is one of the most important philatelists in the world. I would be so happy to have him as my adviser.’

  Elliot stared at him as if he couldn’t believe what he was saying.

  ‘Larrimore? Your adviser? Come on, Claude, you’re nuts! Not a hope. . .’

  ‘Like that?’ Kendrick shook his head sadly. ‘Well, I must take it you would know.’ A pause, then he went on, Tell me how you got friendly with Larrimore.’

  ‘Apart from collecting stamps, he is a golfer. Not good, but like most golfers who aren’t good, deadly keen. He comes to the club once a week and I play with him from time to time. I cured him of a hell of a slice and since then he has always been friendly. That’s it. I don’t see anything of him now . . . my tin foot fixed my golf.’

  ‘How odd. A slice? Odd how things happen.’ Kendrick finished his whisky. ‘Although you haven’t seen him lately, you could still call on him?’

  ‘Look, Claude, I said forget it,’ Elliot said impatiently. ‘Larrimore wouldn’t help you.’ He moved to the door. ‘Louis will come tomorrow at ten?’

  ‘Yes.’ Kendrick smiled. ‘Don’t worry too much, cheri. It’s always darkest before the dawn.’

  ‘I seem to have heard that somewhere before,’ Elliot said and left.

  * * *

  ‘Well now, Mr. Campbell,’ Barney said, ‘I want you to appreciate how I bring threads of my story together like weaving a carpet. It’s only because I can’t spell and my writing isn’t so hot that I’m not in your racket. I’ve got the technique, but the rest is strictly for the gulls.’

  I said all of us couldn’t aspire to the heights and would he like another hamburger?

  ‘That mightn’t be a bad idea,’ Barney said and wigwagged with his eyebrows to Sam. ‘Feed the body - feed the mind, huh?’

  I said that was an accepted fact.

  ‘Well now . . . I’ve got Joey, Cindy, Vin, Elliot and Kendrick on the stage. Now comes the time to join them together and I’ll do it step by step.’ Barney waited until Sam produced the hamburger and having inspected it, he nodded approval, then continued, ‘Joey couldn’t afford to let Cindy stick around making cow’s eyes at Vin now he knew Vin was running short of money. As his own ready cash was also getting low, he sent Cindy out to work the stores in the morning instead of the afternoon and he went out also to work the buses, leaving Vin to sit at home, dreaming about the Big Take.

  ‘It so happened that Cindy was walking down the main street, heading for one of the stores when she saw Elliot’s Rolls parked by the kerb. The sight of his car brought her to a standstill. Most people paused to stare at the car, but it mesmerized Cindy. This was the car of her dreams and she was standing there, in a white sweatshirt and these things they call “hot pants,” worshipping the car when Elliot came out of Kendrick’s gallery.’

  * * *

  The first thing Elliot noticed was Cindy’s long beautiful legs and then her little bottom and then her tits. These three feminine features had a big attraction for Elliot and for the moment he forgot his worries and even his tin foot. Seeing Cindy gaping at his car, he joined her and said in his screen voice that used to send shivers up and down the spines of his women fans, ‘She’s as lovely as you, isn’t she?’

  Cindy spun round, embarrassed, then she laughed.

  ‘Better! Man! What a gorgeous car!’ Then she did a double take as she recognized Elliot.

  Cindy was an Elliot fan. When she was younger, she had adored Errol Flynn. When he passed on, she turned her adoration on Elliot. To find herself standing right by her favourite movie star completely threw her. She clasped her hands and stared, looking a cross between a sheep and a cow as she exclaimed, ‘It’s Don Elliot!’

  Elliot hadn’t seen that soppy look for a long time and he reacted to it.

  ‘Hello,’ he said and he gave out with his sexy smile which he hadn’t used since he had lost his foot. ‘You know me, but I don’t know you. Who are you?’

  Cindy recovered herself.

  ‘I’m not important, Mr. Elliot. I was just passing and I saw this lovely car and I stopped and then you appeared.’

  ‘It’s m
ine,’ Elliot said, and for the first time he felt this huge bad debt was worth the worry it was giving him. ‘Would you like a ride?’

  ‘Would you be kidding, Mr. Elliot?’

  Elliot laughed, opened the offside door and waved her to get in.

  With a dazed expression, Cindy settled herself in the passenger’s seat, clasping her hands over her breasts. Elliot drove slowly through the heavy traffic, saying nothing. One quick look at this girl’s face told him to let her alone, let her have her dream, let her give herself up to the silent movement of the car. Once clear of the traffic and on to Seaview Boulevard, he accelerated a little and headed for the hills. He drove at an easy speed until he reached a long stretch of deserted road, then he shoved down the gas pedal and let Cindy experience the sudden rush of silent power that swept them along at over a hundred miles an hour. As the road came to an end to join up with the highway to Miami, he slowed and pulled into a lay-by.

  ‘What do you think?’ he asked. ‘Maybe you would like to drive her before you decide.’

  Cindy stared at him. She was still a little dazed by the rush of speed.

  ‘Decide? What about?’

  ‘Aren’t you going to buy her?’ Elliot asked and grinned. ‘This was a trial run, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Was it?’ She heaved a sigh. ‘I wish it was. I wish I had the money. I wish it was mine.’

  There was something about Cindy that got to Elliot. He was so used to dollies who knew everything, never were impressed, were so ready to get into his bed that Cindy scored with him.

  ‘Who are you?’ he asked as he lit a cigarette.

  This was something, Cindy wasn’t going to tell him.

  ‘Cindy Luck,’ she told him. ‘Nobody . . . just a girl getting by.’

  ‘And how do you get by?’

  ‘You know . . . an office. . . a typewriter. . . and me.’

  ‘Cindy. . . a nice name. Are you lucky?’

  ‘Oh, yes! To be in this car? Oh, yes!’

  He laughed.