Strictly for Cash

by James Hadley Chase

  face and her expression tense. I wondered what they were talking about.

  Around half-past one I went into the restaurant. Most times I had meals in the office,

  otherwise as soon as I was seen I was pestered. It was surprising the number of people who

  wanted w buy me a drink or to yap about their winnings or groan about their losses.

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  Della and Ricca were already at a table in a corner, away from the rest of the tables. Louis

  was taking their orders himself.

  I sat down.

  “This helicopter idea of yours is terrific,” Ricca said, when Louis had taken my order and

  had gone. “I guess I’ll try it in Los Angeles. I might hook up with San Francisco.”

  Della smiled at me possessively.

  “I told you, Jack, he’s a clever boy, and they like him here, too.”

  “I had a look at that lion pit,” Ricca went on. “Della told me what happened to Nick. I

  guess you don’t feed those cats yourself, do you?”

  I matched his grin.

  “I’m too smart,” I said. “One accident’s enough.”

  “Yeah. Had he been dipping into the reserve like Paul thought?”

  “A little; not much,” Della said.

  “That’s a big reserve. That’s twice the amount I carry.”

  There was a moment’s silence.

  “We need every nickel of it,” Della said, her voice hard.

  He looked at her, then at me.

  “It crossed my mind you might feel inclined to transfer say a quarter of it to Los Angeles.

  Just an idea, mind you. Paul was always switching lumps of his reserve. It was a smart move.

  He kept everyone satisfied.”

  I put down my knife and fork. I suddenly wasn’t hungry any more. But Della went right on

  eating as if she hadn’t heard.

  Just for a moment the smile slipped, and I saw behind the fat, rubber-like mask, and what I

  saw I didn’t like.

  “Of course it’s up to you,” he said, smiling again.

  “I said we needed every nickel of it, Jack,” she said, without looking up.

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  “Maybe you do.”

  The waiter came and switched plates. Ricca started talking about the casino at Los Angeles.

  The moment had passed, but I wasn’t kidding myself. He’d try again. How far he was

  prepared to push it remained to be seen, but he wasn’t the type to give up easily.

  We had coffee and brandy on the terrace. I was in the middle of explaining to Ricca my

  idea of lighting the swimming-pool when I saw him and Della look up and past me. I glanced

  up. There was a girl standing right by me. For a moment I didn’t recognize her, then I saw

  she was Georgia Harris Brown, and she was drunk.

  I hadn’t seen her since that day we had parted on the beach, and seeing her again came as a

  shock to me.

  “Hello, handsome,” she said, and put her hand on my shoulder. “Remember me?”

  She was wearing a pair of linen slacks and a halter. Her cute, pert little face was flushed,

  and the whites of her eyes were bloodshot.

  I got up. Ricca got up too. Della watched me, the way a cat watches a mouse. I had an idea

  I was heading for trouble.

  “Is there anything I can do?” I asked stiffly.

  “Sure.” Her fingers gripped my coat to steady herself. “That’s why I’m here.”

  “You know Mrs. Wertham?” I said. “This is Jack Ricca. Ricca, I’d like you to meet Miss

  Harris Brown.”

  Ricca bowed, but she ignored him.

  “I thought you were Ricca,” she said.

  “So I am. He’s my cousin, on my father’s side.”

  “It surprises me a louse like you had a father,” she said.

  The words hung in empty space. I didn’t say anything. Ricca didn’t say anything. Della lit a

  cigarette.

  “Hello, bastard,” Miss Harris Brown went on.

  I was aware Ricca was watching me with interest. Della’s face had gone pale, but she

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  didn’t make a move. They were my cards, and I had to play them.

  “What do you want?” I said.

  Della and Ricca weren’t the only two looking at me now. Everyone on the terrace was

  looking.

  She pushed her breasts out at me, and her red-painted lips curved into a smile that was as

  vicious as her eyes.

  “I want to know who the whore is you’re going around with,” she said. “The pretty little

  trollop with red hair. The one you take to your rooms on Franklin Boulevard. The one you

  slop over at Raul’s. Who is she?”

  I went hot, then cold. My brain closed up. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out of it.

  Ricca said, “She’s his sister by his mother’s side. Now go away, you drunken little fool.

  Your eyes are watery, your nose is red, and you’ve got a stinking, rotten breath.”

  Someone in the audience laughed.

  Miss Harris Brown collapsed like a pricked balloon.

  I watched her run across the terrace, down the steps and towards her cabin. Then I looked at

  Ricca.

  “It was easier for me to do it,” he said, “but if I spoke out of turn, I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “She was drunk.”

  Then I looked at Della.

  “Where’s Raul’s Johnny?” she asked, smiling, but her eyes were like chips of ice. “Or

  shouldn’t I ask?”

  “You heard what I said: she was drunk.”

  “We get them like that in Los Angeles,” Ricca said soothingly. “You don’t have to pay any

  attention to them. They are kind of crazy in the head.”

  Della got up.

  “Jack and I are going over to Bay Street,” she said, without looking at me. “We’ll be seeing

  you.”

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  She walked down the steps towards her car.

  Ricca patted my arm.

  “Women are funny animals,” he said, “and she’s no exception.”

  It might have been Reisner talking.

  “Don’t let it bother you, Johnny.”

  He went after her, and his smile was a mile wide.

  VII

  I sat at my desk, a cigarette smouldering between my fingers, my brain busy. The writing

  was on the wall. I didn’t kid myself I could bluff Della. She was too smart. By tonight she

  would have found out about Ginny, my apartment on Franklin Boulevard and Raul’s. Then

  would come the show-down.

  She wouldn’t have to give me away to Hame. She’d team up with Ricca and let him take

  care of me. This was my out. I had to skip before it was too late.

  I twisted around in my chair and looked at the safe. Behind that heavy steel door was a

  bundle of money belonging to me. If I could get to it, I hadn’t a worry in the world. But I

  hadn’t a hope of opening that door without the combination.

  For nearly four weeks I had sat around hoping the combination would drop in my lap. I

  now had three hours, possibly four, to get it if I was ever going to get it.

  I wouldn’t get it from Della: I was sure of that. Then who else knew it beside Della? For

  the first time I really began to bend

  my brains on the problem. Reisner had known it, but he was dead. The firm who made the

  safe would know it, but they wouldn’t part with the informarion. Would Louis know it? There

  was a chance he might. I picked up the telephone and called his office.

  “Louis? This is Ricca. I’ve got a problem. Mr. Van Etting is in my office. He wants to cash

  a cheque in a hurr
y. Mrs. Wertham’s out. You wouldn’t know the combination of the safe?”

  I did it well. My voice was business-like, but casual.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Ricca, but I do not know it,” Louis said, and from the sound of his voice he

  would have told me if he had known it.

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  “Aw, hell!” I said. “What am I going to do? This guy’s getting in a rage.”

  “Maybe you could reach Mrs. Wertham,” Louis said. “She may be at Bay Street.”

  “I’ve already tried. She’s not around. You haven’t three thousand bucks in your office,

  have you?”

  He said he never kept big sums in his office.

  “Okay, forget it, Louis. Sorry to have bothered you. I guess Mr. Van Etting will have to get

  into a rage.”

  I wasn’t disappointed. It had been a hunch, and it hadn’t come off. I was about to replace

  the receiver when he said, “If Miss Doering had been with us she could have told you.”

  Miss Doering? I stared at the opposite wall. Reisner’s secretary ! Della had given her the

  sack. She had been furious with her for calling Hame when Reisner hadn’t shown up.

  I gripped the receiver until my hand ached.

  “Did Miss Doering know the combination ?”

  “Why, yes, Mr. Ricca. When Mr. Reisner was out she took care of the money.”

  “Well, she isn’t here,” I said, making out I wasn’t interested any more. “Never mind.

  Forget it, Louis, and thanks.”

  I hung up and sat thinking for a moment or so, then I grabbed the telephone again and got

  through to the staff supervisor.

  “This is Ricca. Can you give me Miss Doering’s address?”

  She asked me to hold on. The minute I had to wait seemed like an hour.

  “247c Coral Boulevard.”

  “Got her phone number?”

  Another wait.

  “Lincoln Beach 18577.”

  “Thanks,” I said, broke the connection, paused long enough to wipe the sweat off my face,

  then got on the phone again.

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  “Get me Lincoln Beach 18577.”

  I hadn’t had any previous dealings with Miss Doering. Della had handled her, and from

  what she had told me, she had handled her pretty roughly. I had seen her, and she had seen

  me. I had given her a smile now and then because she was a looker. I had no idea what she

  thought of me, and I knew I couldn’t put this across over the telephone. I had to see her.

  The line clicked and buzzed, then a woman said, “Hello?”

  “Miss Doering?”

  “I guess so.”

  “This is Johnny Ricca. I want to see you. I could be with you in fifteen minutes. How about

  it?”

  There was a pause, then she said, “What about?”

  “If I told you that I shouldn’t see you, and I want to see you. Okay for me to come over?”

  “If that’s the way you feel about it.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  I walked out of the office, along the corridor to the elevator. I rode down to the ground

  floor and tramped across the lobby to the terrace. Someone spoke to me, but I didn’t look to

  see who it was. I kept right on. The Buick was waiting at the foot of the terrace. I got in and

  drove down the carriageway. The guards opened the gates as soon as they saw me. I was

  doing seventy before I hit the highway.

  247 Coral Boulevard was a sprawling mansion that had been converted into apartments. I

  took a creaking elevator to the fourth floor and walked down a corridor to a door on which

  the numbers 247c were picked out in white paint against a glossy apple-green background.

  I leaned against the bell-push. She had the door open before I could really get any weight

  into it: a blonde, slim lovely, with arched eyebrows that weren’t her own, a figure you only

  see in Esquire and an invitation in her eyes.

  “You must have moved,” she said. “Come on in.”

  She was wearing one of those house-coat things. The way it set off her figure was nobody’s

  business.

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  We went into a small room that was cluttered up with a settee, two armchairs, a radio and a

  table. You couldn’t have swung even a Manx cat in it. She sat on the settee and I sat beside

  her.

  We looked at each other. I had an idea she wasn’t going to be difficult to handle.

  “Have you found another job yet?” I asked.

  “No. Want to give me one?” She crossed her legs, showing me a knee that might have

  interested me before I met Ginny, but which I scarcely looked at now.

  “I want the combination of the safe in Reisner’s office. Louis said you knew it. That’s why

  I’m here.”

  “Well, you certainly don’t believe in wasting time,” she said, and smiled. “What makes you

  think I’ll give it to you?”

  “I’m just hoping. You don’t seem surprised.”

  She leaned forward and dug a long finger into my chest.

  “I’m surprised you haven’t been before. I was expecting you, handsome. Your type doesn’t

  sit in a room all day with a safe full of money without getting ideas. What do you intend to do

  - skin her?”

  “She promised me a little dough, but she’s changed her mind. I’m pulling out and I’m

  hoping to take what she owes me.”

  “What makes you think I’ll help you?”

  “I have no reason to think you will, but there’s no harm in trying.”

  She leaned closer.

  “Don’t be so stand-offish. I could be persuaded. I was always a sucker for muscular men.”

  I kissed her. It was like getting snarled up in a meat-mincer.

  After a while she pushed me away and drew in a deep breath.

  “Hmmm, not bad. With a little tuition and patience you could be good.”

  I ran my fingers through my hair, wiped the lipstick off my mouth and took a sly look at the

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  clock on the overmantel. It showed five minutes after five.

  “I don’t want to hurry this, but I’ll have to,” I said.

  “Do you think you’ll get away with it?” She had opened a powder compact and was

  restoring her face.

  “I’ll have a try.”

  “What are you going to do? Walk out with a bundle of money under your arm? The guards

  will love it.”

  “I’ll take it out in a suitcase in my car.”

  “About as safe as jumping out of this window.”

  “Now wait a minute. Let’s get this straight. Where do you come in on this deal? What’s

  your cut to be?”

  She laughed.

  “Do I look all that crazy? I wouldn’t touch a dollar of it. You may not think it, but I don’t

  take money that doesn’t belong to me. I have other faults, but that’s not one of them. I’m

  going to give you the combination because I’d like that black-haired, snooty little bitch to be

  well and properly gypped. I hated Reisner, and I hate her. It’s my way of getting even for all

  I’ve put up with from both of them. Go ahead, Mr. Ricca, help yourself. The more you take

  the better I’ll like it.”

  I looked at her-She wasn’t fooling.

  “Okay, let’s have it.”

  She reached over, opened a drawer in the table near by and gave me a slip of paper.

  “It’s been waiting there ever since I first saw you. I knew sooner or later you’d want it.”

  I looked at the row of figures, my heart banging against my ribs. Talk about a break! I

  could scarcely b
elieve it.

  “Well, thanks,” I said, and got to my feet.

  “Going after it now?”

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  “Right now.”

  “Still going to take it out in your car?”

  “Any better ideas ?”

  She leaned against me.

  “You’re learning, handsome. There’s only one way to get that money out and be sure of it.

  Perhaps you don’t know this, but at six every evening the railroad truck calls for luggage or

  empty crates, or whatever’s going by rail. There’s always something. Pack the money in a

  suitcase, address it to yourself at any station to be called for. The man will give you a receipt.

  You’ll find him loading up at the luggage entrance. He handles the stuff himself. There’s

  seldom anyone there. It’s the only way, handsome. The guards don’t check his stuff, and

  when you go, you’ll go empty-handed.”

  I patted her on the shoulder.

  “You’re more than smarts you’re brilliant,” I said. “That’s a whale of an idea.”

  She leaned more heavily against me.

  “Show a little appreciation.”

  It took me ten precious minutes to untangle myself from her clutches, a quarter of an hour

  to buy a black pigskin suitcase with good locks, five minutes to buy a coil of thin rope and a

  big meat hook, and ten minutes to get back to the casino.

  As I drove in I asked the green-eyed guard if he had seen Mrs. Wertham.

  “Not in yet,” he growled.

  I drove fast around to the back of the casino. Twenty feet above me was my office window,

  overlooking a walled-in garden that was reserved for the management, and no one else. I set

  the suitcase down immediately below the window, ran back to the car and drove around to the

  front entrance.

  I went up the steps to the terrace three at a time. People said hello, and tried to stop me, but

  I grinned at them and kept on.

  When Della checked up on me she would learn I hadn’t come in with a suitcase, only a

  small brown-paper parcel that contained the rope and the hook.

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  I got to my office, locked the door, opened the window and dropped the hook, attached to

  the rope, down on to the suitcase. I snagged it the first throw. I hauled it up, then went over to

  the safe. With the combination in my hand I turned the tumblers. I was working against time.

  The desk clock showed five minutes to six.

  I came to the last number, turned to it and felt the tumbler fall into position. Holding my