James Chase - Strictly For Cash

“Loosen the carburettor pipe,” she said, “then tie your handkerchief over the leak and touch it off with a match.”

“They could send us to jail for this,” I said, breathing heavily. “Get on with it! The tool case is clipped inside the hood. You want a spanner... hurry!”

I loosened the carburettor pipe, burning my hand against the cylinder head as I did so. I was working in a trance. My head kept expanding and contracting, and my legs felt as if they were made of rubber. I did exactly what she told me to do. I tied one end of my handkerchief around the leaking pipe.

“Now set fire to it.”

I struck a match. A moment later a long tongue of flame shot out of the car’s engine, and spread in a hot, glaring mass to the coachwork.

I jumped back just in time.

She came running towards me.

“Come on!” she said. “Before anyone comes.”

I went with her because there was nothing else to do.

We moved fast, and in silence, until the glare of the burning car died away in the distance, and we came out on to the soft white sand of the beach.

“Wait, Johnny,” she said, and stopped.

I turned to look at her. She still held the gun, but it was no longer pointing at me.

“There’s not much time, but I have to talk to you,” she said. “I wish I knew more about you. It’s fantastic we should meet like this, and be in this position together. Do you realize that from now on you and I have got to trust each other, work with each other, and stay with each other as if we had known each other for years? What sort of nerve have you got? Just how ambitious are you? I wish I knew what kind of man you are.”

“And do you realize they could send us to jail for what we’ve done?” I said. “Have you gone crazy...?”

“Don’t worry about that. They won’t find out. Do you want to get your hands on some money? Real money, Johnny? If you have the right kind of nerve we can help ourselves to half a million dollars: half for you and half for me.”

I stiffened. A quarter of a million dollars! That was the kind of money I had always dreamed of making.

“You’re lying,” I said.

“Sit down. We haven’t much time, but enough for me to explain the set-up to you. Go on, Johnny, sit down and listen.”

I sat down. She sat a few yards from me, the gun in her lap, the moonlight on her face, and in spite of her dishevelled hair and the streak of blood down the side of her nose, she still looked lovely.

Speaking rapidly, she told me the dead man was Paul Wertham, a big-time gambler, the owner of three casinos.

“He’s the head of an organization worth millions,” she said. “The moment it’s known he’s dead, the vultures will move in and grab. He has a manager for each casino. They’d grab everything and leave me to whistle for my share. But so long as they think he’s alive, it can be handled. That’s the set-up. I can’t handle it on my own. I can handle it with your help. The take is half a million, and you’ll get half of it: two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. It’s easy. All you want is nerve, and if you do what I tell you, we can’t go wrong.”

That was my cue to say no: when I should have walked away and taken the chance of getting a slug in the back; when I should have remembered what Tom Roche had said about big and sudden money leading to trouble.

But I didn’t say no. I suddenly realized she was deadly serious. She actually meant half a million, and I started to think what that much money could buy.

“How can you keep his death quiet?” I asked. “How long do you think it’ll be before they find out?”

Then she smiled and relaxed because she knew I was on the hook and all she had to do was to hit the line to sink the barb in too deep for me to jump off.

“We have only to keep it quiet for three or four days: not longer; and the money’s ours. It’s as easy as that.”

“Go on; keep talking.”

“Each casino has a large cash reserve in case there’s a run on the bank. The casino at Lincoln Beach caters for millionaires. The reserve there is half a million in cash. Each casino is in charge of a manager. Jack Ricca runs the Los Angeles place. Nick Reisner takes care of Lincoln Beach, and Pete Levinsky, the Paris end.” She was leaning forward, speaking fast and softly, and I didn’t miss a word of what she was saying. “Paul was going to Paris when he was tipped that Reisner was dipping into the reserve to cover his own gambling losses. He had to act fast. The Paris trip was important so he arranged for Ricca to go to Lincoln Beach. He phoned Reisner and told him Ricca was on his way and was to have access to the books. But at the last moment Ricca went on a drinking jag. Every so often he gets the urge and hides himself away with a crate of whisky, and that’s all anyone knows about him until he reappears again. Paul had to cancel his Paris trip. There was no time to tell Reisner he was coming in Ricca’s place. He and I were on our way when we stopped at Pelotta to watch the fights.” She reached out and put her hand on my knee. “ Reisner doesn’t know Paul was coming in place of Ricca, and Reisner has never seen Ricca. You’re going to be Ricca for just as long as it takes us to collect that reserve. That’s the set-up. How do you like it?”

I sat looking at her.

“And my cut will be a quarter of a million?”

“Yes, Johnny, word of honour. There can be no blowback to this. I’ve as much right to it as Reisner has. I have more right to it. Every nickel of it belongs to Paul. If he had made a will he would have left it to me.”

“Can we get away with it?”

“Yes. It just needs nerve.”

This was the chance I had been waiting for. I knew it meant trouble, but money that big had to mean trouble. Well, the opportunity was there: right in my lap. I wasn’t going to pass it up.

“Count me in,” I said.

We had been walking maybe for ten minutes when we saw a light shining in the darkness. Another twenty yards brought us to a small wooden cabin, facing the sea.

“Are you all set, Johnny?” she asked, stopping. “You know what to do. You’re suffering from concussion. Leave all the talking to me.”

“I know what to do.”

I flopped down on the sand and stretched out while she went on towards the cabin. While I waited I tried to keep my mind blank, but it couldn’t be done. I kept thinking of the trouble that was piling up for me, but I wasn’t going to side-step it. Come hail, come sunshine, I was going to have that money.

I heard voices. I heard her say, “He just passed out. I think it’s concussion.” The anxious, frightened note in her voice even fooled me.

A man said, “I’ll get him in, miss. Just you take it easy.”

Hands turned me over on my back. I let out a groan to tell him how bad I was, and looked through my eyelashes as he bent over me. I couldn’t see much of him in the half darkness. He seemed short and powerfully built, and that was about all I could see.

He was powerful all right, for he got me to my feet as if I weighed a few pounds. I made an effort to keep upright, then slumped heavily on him.

“Take it easy,” he said. “It ain’t far. Lean on me as hard as you like.”

I felt Della take my arm, and supported between the two of them I made a slow, staggering journey across the sand to the cabin.

They got me on to a bed. I lay still, my eyes closed. I heard him say, “He sure is knocked about. What do you want me to do, miss? Get a doctor?”

“How far is it to the nearest telephone?” she asked.

“About half a mile down the road.”

He had moved away from me now, and I took a peep at him. He was elderly, with a tanned, lined face and stubbly white hair. I looked from him to her. She had dropped into a chair. Her face was tight and hard, and as white as a bone. She must have been tough to have withstood the shock of the crash and her husband’s death and still be able to plan and act as she had done. But now she looked ready to flop, and the old guy seemed to think so too. He went hastily to a cupboard and brought out a bottle of whisky. He poured her a stiff drink, and she put it down as if it were water.