1972 - You're Dead Without Money

by James Hadley Chase

  ‘Sydney, my beautiful poinciana, this is your devoted Claude. How am I? Oh, pretty fair, struggling to make both ends meet.’ He giggled. ‘And you? So glad.’ A pause. ‘Sydney, a word in your ear. I don’t know if Don Elliot owes you anything . . . yes, the ex-movie star. He does? I thought he just might. I’m worried about him. He owes me too. I sent Louis to talk to him this morning. You know how tactful I am. Louis tried to get a cheque from him, but Elliot turned rather nasty. We get the impression here that he isn’t in the position to pay. Dreadful, isn’t it? Of course the poor fellow is now handicapped without his foot and without film work, but I did imagine he was financially sound. Does he owe you much?’ Claude listened, then lifted his eyebrows and released a soft whistle. ‘My poor darling! Fifty thousand! But that’s a fortune! I’m only in the hole for five.’ He listened again. ‘Well, I would act fast if I were you. I can’t imagine he is going to be worth much now. He hasn’t had a girl since he lost his foot. Terribly, terribly sad. I thought I would alert you. Yes, do let’s meet sometime. Bye now.’

  As he hung up, Louis said, ‘That should get things moving.’

  ‘Poor Sydney . . . rather foolish, but I like him. Well, let’s not waste time. Elliot’s booze, catering and tailor’s bills must be impressive.’ Kendrick replaced his wig. ‘Perhaps a word in those dears’ ears might be a charitable act,’ and he reached again for the telephone receiver.

  * * *

  Toyo, Elliot’s chauffeur, met Winston Ackland at the Paradise City airport and drove him to Elliot’s villa. Ackland had arrived in his own light aircraft, flying from Miami at Elliot’s urgent request.

  Ackland was short, fat and full of bustle. He was one of the leading antique and art experts in Miami with a flourishing gallery and was always on the lookout for a bargain. When

  Elliot had told him he had a Chagall he wanted to sell and a collection of jade, Ackland said he would be over that afternoon.

  Elliot watched him as he examined the Chagall. The expression on Ackland’s fat face told him nothing. Finally Ackland turned away from the painting.

  ‘This could be an Errile Houry, but it is certainly not a Chagall,’ he said. ‘A nice fake. I hope it didn’t cost you too much, Mr. Elliot.’

  ‘A hundred thousand,’ Elliot said, his voice husky. ‘Are you sure it’s a fake?’

  ‘You can never be entirely sure, but that’s my opinion,’ Ackland said quietly. I suppose Kendrick sold it to you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Kendrick isn’t as good with this kind of art as he thinks he is,’ Ackland said ‘He could have been deceived. Even some of the top experts have been deceived by Houry, but I happen to specialize in Chagall and I’m sure this isn’t one of his . . . at least almost sure.’

  Elliot felt cold sweat break out on his forehead.

  ‘And the jade . . . don’t tell me that’s a fake too.’

  ‘Oh no. That’s a very nice collection. I would offer you twenty thousand for it.’

  ‘Can you give me anything for the Chagall?’

  Ackland shook his head.

  ‘I don’t want it. It’s a painting that could get any dealer into trouble.’

  ‘And the rest?’

  ‘Nothing impressive, but if you want to get rid of all the paintings, I would offer ten thousand I’m sorry to offer so little, but these paintings are just decorations . . . they have no value.’

  Elliot hesitated, then shrugged.

  ‘Okay . . . give me a note for thirty thousand to be paid in cash and the stuff’s yours.’

  Ackland gave him the note. When he had gone, Elliot did some thinking. Maybe, he thought, Claude didn’t know the Chagall was a fake. He hesitated for a long moment, then he rang Kendrick’s gallery.

  Louis answered.

  ‘Give me Claude,’ Elliot said.

  ‘It’s Mr. Elliot?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘A tiny moment.’

  Then Kendrick came on the line.

  ‘If you want the Chagall you can have it,’ Elliot said ‘My dear boy . . . what a nice surprise. From what Louis told me you were cross with me,’ Kendrick said, startled to get this call.

  ‘Never mind that. What will you give me for the Chagall before I offer it to Winston Ackland?’

  ‘Ackland? You mustn’t do that, dear boy! He would give you absolutely nothing! He’d probably tell you it’s a fake. Ackland is really rather horrid.’

  ‘What do you offer?’

  ‘I would rather take it on commission, dear Don. I could get you . . .’

  ‘I want cash . . . remember? How much?’

  ‘Thirty thousand.’

  ‘I paid a hundred thousand.’

  ‘I know, but these are dreadful times.’

  ‘You can have it for forty-five: immediate cash.’

  ‘Forty, my dear boy. That’s absolute top.’

  ‘Send Louis with your note to be paid in cash and he can take it away,’ Elliot said and hung up.

  Kendrick replaced the receiver and beamed at Louis.

  ‘The poor stupid dear has sold us the Chagall for forty. Imagine! That silly Mrs. Van Johnson is aching for a Chagall. If I don’t get a hundred thousand out of her, I’ll eat my wig!’

  ‘Watch it, Claude,’ Louis said. ‘If she has it checked . . .’

  ‘Of course she won’t have it checked as Elliot didn’t have it checked.’ Kendrick sat back, his fat face wreathed in smiles.

  ‘My word is their guarantee.’

  * * *

  By 15.00 that afternoon, Elliot had seventy thousand dollars in cash. He had cashed Ackland’s note and Kendrick’s note at another bank, not his own. He knew if he had tried to cash these notes at his own bank the dreary question of his overdraft would have come up.

  As he locked the money away in his desk drawer, he felt he had gained breathing space. He could pay his staff and use the rest of the money to continue his way of life for a few more months. For the first time in weeks, he felt relaxed Then the telephone bell rang.

  Frowning, Elliot snatched up the receiver. The caller was Larry Kaufman, the Rolls Royce agent.

  ‘Mr. Elliot?’ Kaufman’s voice sounded sharp and hostile. ‘I’m asking you to settle for the Rolls. My people are pressing me. You’ve had the car over two months now. They’re insisting

  on immediate settlement.’

  Elliot hesitated, but only for a moment He still had the Alfa which was paid for and he would be out of his mind to part with thirty thousand no matter how much he loved the Rolls. He knew he must now hang on to every dollar he could lay his hands on.

  ‘You can take it back, Larry. I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want it.’

  ‘You don’t want it?’ Kaufman’s voice shot up.

  ‘That’s what I said.’

  ‘I can’t take it back just like that . . . damn it! It’s a second hand car now!’

  ‘Well, okay, so take it back as a second hand car. What am I bid?’

  ‘You’re sure you want to do this, Mr. Elliot?’

  ‘What am I bid?’

  ‘I’ll give you an honest deal as I can sell the car the moment I have it. Suppose you owe me three thousand?’

  ‘You think that’s honest.’

  ‘It is honest and you know it, Mr. Elliot.’

  ‘Okay . . . okay. Come and get it. I’ll have a cheque ready for you.’

  Elliot tried to be indifferent about this, but it gave him a pang to see Kaufman drive the Rolls away with a cheque for three thousand in his pocket. Elliot wondered if the cheque would bounce. He hoped his bank manager would extend his overdraft. Anyway, he thought, it was worth a try. After lunch, as he was settling down on the patio for a nap, his bank manager called.

  ‘Don . . . Kaufman has just been in and presented your cheque for three thousand. I’ve honoured it because you and I are good friends, but this is the last time. You have to do something about this overdraft. No more cheques, Don. Understand?’

  ‘Sure . . . sure
. . . I’ll sell some stock,’ Elliot said glibly. ‘By the end of the week I’ll have fixed it.’

  The wolves were closing in, he thought. Well, at least he had seventy thousand in cash in his desk drawer. It might be an idea to get in the Alfa and go to Hollywood, stay at a motel for a couple of weeks and let his debts take care of themselves.

  The more he thought about this, the better he liked the idea, but this wasn’t his day. As he got up with the intention of packing a bag and getting out, his majordomo came out on to the patio.

  ‘There’s a gentleman . . .’

  A tall, hard faced man, carrying a briefcase, stepped around the majordomo and came up to Elliot.

  ‘I’m Stan Jerrold, Mr. Elliot.’ He paused until the majordomo had left them, then went on. ‘I’ve been briefed by Luce & Fremlin and Handcock & Ellison to collect two outstanding debts. I’ve been instructed to issue you with a summons to be returned at the Courthouse at the end of the month if I don’t get a certified cheque right now.’

  ‘Is that right?’ Elliot forced a grin. Once a summons was issued all the wolves would rush in. ‘How much is it for?’

  ‘Sixty-one thousand dollars.’

  This jolted Elliot but he managed to retain his grin.

  ‘As much as that?’ He knew he couldn’t afford to be served with a summons. ‘I’ll give you cash.’

  Ten minutes later, Jerrold left, his briefcase bulging and Elliot’s cash assets had abruptly shrunk to nine thousand dollars.

  He lit a cigarette and leaning back in his desk chair, he considered his future. It looked bleaker than ever before. He knew the word would get around that he was paying his debts. In a day or so his other creditors would come knocking on his door. It was time to get out and get out fast. He would drive to Hollywood and when his nine thousand dollars had run out, he would take enough sleeping pills to make headlines for the last time.

  Going into his bedroom, he packed a suitcase, selecting the best of his wardrobe, conscious that none of the clothes he was putting into the suitcase had been paid for. He included a bottle of Scotch and a carton of two hundred cigarettes.

  He took three hundred dollars from his diminishing roll and went in search of his majordomo. Finding him in the kitchen, he explained he was going away and gave him the money.

  ‘This should hold you until I get back. I’m going to see Mr. Lewishon.’

  The majordomo bowed and gave Elliot a sad, searching stare as he took the money. The stare told Elliot the old man was aware of the mess he was in.

  ‘I’ll write if I stay away longer than a week,’ Elliot said, uncomfortable at the searching stare and the sadness on the old man’s face. He returned to his bedroom, paused to look around, feeling sure this would be the last time he would call this room his own. Then shrugging, he picked up the suitcase and walked down to the garage.

  As he was getting into the Alfa Romeo, he saw a girl walking slowly up the drive: a blonde, wearing a white sweatshirt and scarlet shorts.

  ‘Cindy Luck!’ he thought, surprised and he drove down, pulling up beside her. ‘Hello.’ He smiled. ‘What brings you here?’

  Cindy seemed ill at ease and her smile forced.

  ‘I - I wanted to see you again.’

  Vin, Joey and she had gone over the kidnap plan. Vin felt sure that Cindy could get Elliot to their bungalow.

  ‘Get him here,’ he said, ‘then I’ll handle him.’

  Cindy had hesitated.

  ‘You won’t hurt him, Vin?’

  ‘Hurt him? Forget it! I’ll just poke a gun at him and he’ll fall to pieces. I know these phoney tough guys. They’re fine up there on the screen, but show them a gun in real life and they’re just wet spaghetti.’

  Elliot regarded her. She’s certainly a dish, he thought. If it wasn’t for this goddamn tin foot, I’d get her laid.

  ‘Well, here I am,’ he said. I’m just off to Hollywood.’

  Cindy’s eyes opened wide. This was unexpected.

  ‘Oh, Mr. Elliot! My father will be so disappointed. He is a terrific fan of yours. When I told him I had been here and you had actually given me lunch - honest, he nearly died with envy. He was really upset so I said I would try to persuade you to come and see him.’ Her mind worked swiftly as she saw alarm come into Elliot’s eyes. ‘I know it’s asking a lot but my father is an invalid and he has so little pleasure. He’s seen all your movies and he really thinks you’re the greatest . . . as I do.’

  Elliot hesitated, then thought: What have I got to lose? I now haven’t a friend in the world and here’s this kid . . . what a dish! It won’t kill me to see her old man. It’ll give them both a hell of a kick. He smiled. ‘Okay. Where do you live, Cindy?’

  ‘On Seaview Boulevard.’

  ‘That’s fine. It’s in my direction. Hop in.’ Elliot leaned over and opened the offside door. ‘I can’t stay long, but if it will please your old man, it’s my pleasure.’

  Cindy felt suddenly sick. She had allowed herself to be persuaded by Vin to take part in this kidnap plan. As Vin pointed out the money would mean nothing to Elliot and once they had got it, they would get married and have a ball. She had gone along with this, not thinking of Elliot, but now he was being so kind, she began to have qualms. For a long moment, she stood hesitating, then when he told her to hurry up, she obeyed and got in the car.

  ‘I can’t thank you enough,’ she said, not looking at him. ‘You don’t know what this will mean to my father.’

  ‘Forget it,’ Elliot said as he drove on to the highway. ‘I’m repaying a little debt You said something very nice to me . . . something no one has ever said to me.’

  ‘Did I?’

  ‘You wouldn’t remember because it came from your heart. You were talking about my home. You said I deserved it because I had given so much pleasure to so many people.’ He smiled at her. ‘I’m now trying to live up to your image of me.’

  Cindy looked away. For a brief moment, she was on the point of telling him she was leading him into a trap, but thinking of Vin and her father and how much this money would mean to them and that this nice movie star wouldn’t miss giving them fifty thousand dollars when he must be worth millions, she resisted the urge.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I did mean what I said and you are living up to my image.’

  Elliot drove fast to Seaview Boulevard. He was a little puzzled that this girl at his side seemed so tense. As she remained silent, he asked abruptly, ‘Anything on your mind, baby? Something wrong?’

  Cindy stiffened.

  ‘Wrong? No. I was thinking how lucky I am and how kind you are.’

  Elliot laughed. ‘Oh, come on, Cindy! Don’t soft soap me. I’m just behaving like a normal human being.’

  ‘Are you?’ Cindy thought of Vin and for the first time since she had fallen in love with him, she realized with a little pang that there was no kindness in him. He was hard, tough and glamorous but without kindness and Cindy suddenly realized kindness was as important as glamour. She compared Vin with Elliot and then Elliot with Joey. Elliot and Joey were a lot alike: they had warmth, but not Vin.

  ‘Not many people who are as famous and as rich as you,’ she said quietly, ‘would bother with people like my father and myself.’

  ‘Wouldn’t they?’

  Maybe she was right, he thought. He wondered if he would have bothered with her if Pacific Pictures had renewed his contract He decided he wouldn’t have. He wondered what he was letting himself in for. The old man would probably be a godawful bore. Well, he needn’t stay long.

  ‘I’m seeing my agent tomorrow,’ he said. ‘I could be starting work again.’

  Cindy turned. Her face lit up and she looked so pleased Elliot cursed himself for telling such a stupid lie.

  ‘I’m so glad! I read about the accident. It just made me sick. It was so awful for you.’

  Elliot shrugged.

  ‘These things happen.’ He hesitated, then went on. ‘My left foot is made of tin now.’ He looked sha
rply at her. ‘That shock you?’

  ‘Shock me? Why should it? You walk beautifully. No one would know.’

  ‘They know when I take my shoe off.’ The bitter note in his voice made her flinch.

  ‘Yes . . . I understand. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Why should you be sorry?’

  She hesitated.

  ‘Well, go on, say it.’

  ‘It must be hard on you. I’m sure you had lots of girls . . . you shouldn’t let a thing like this spoil your life.’ Again she hesitated. ‘What has a foot to do with it when a man and a woman are in love?’

  Elliot whistled softly between his teeth.

  ‘You don’t know, kid. It makes a hell of a difference. You just don’t know.’

  ‘I said if a man and a woman are in love. I don’t mean just jumping into bed . . . I mean love.’

  ‘Would it make any difference to you?’

  ‘I plan to get married very soon,’ Cindy said, not looking at him.

  ‘You are?’ Elliot was startled that what she had told him gave him a letdown feeling. This sudden pang of disappointment irritated him. What was this chick to him? She was a dish, of course, but nothing more and yet to be told she was getting married depressed him. ‘Who’s the lucky man?’

  ‘You’ll meet him. He’s staying with father and me.’ Cindy pointed. ‘It’s the end bungalow on the right’

  Elliot surveyed the small bungalow, half hidden by shrubs.

  He was not surprised by its shabbiness. In fact, he rather liked its downtrodden appearance . . . so different from his own luxury home.

  He pulled up outside the gate behind Vin’s blue Jaguar.

  ‘Is that your boyfriend’s car?’ he asked as Cindy joined him on the sidewalk.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good car . . . well, come on, chick, I can’t stay long.’

  Cindy led the way up the path to the front door.

  Joey and Vin watched from behind the net curtains. Joey was sweating and his legs felt weak. Vin held a .38 automatic and he was breathing heavily.

  ‘She’s done it!’ he said. ‘I knew she would! Well, here comes fifty grand! Just leave this to me.’

  ‘Don’t hurt him,’ Joey pleaded. ‘Be careful, Vin. I don’t like any of this. I . . .’