James Chase - Strictly For Cash

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

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 — 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 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.

“Who did you leave in charge in Los Angeles?”

Who was it Della had said? For a moment I was rattled, then I remembered.

“Hollenheimer. Why?”

“Curiosity,” he said. He picked up the paper-knife again and began punching more holes in the blotter. “I’m a very curious man, Ricca.”

“We’d better dust while we can,” I said.

Della reached for a cigarette. She lit it and put the lighter down with exaggerated care. She was lying on the divan near the window. The sunblinds were drawn, and there was a subdued, restful light in the room. Out on the beach I could hear voices and laughter. There was quite a crowd lounging on the sands, but no one was bathing. It was too soon after lunch.

She had taken off her dress, and was wearing a blue silk wrap. There was a cold, brooding expression on her face, and she drew on the cigarette hungrily, blowing a long stream of tobacco smoke to the ceiling.

I stood in the middle of the room, my hands in my trouser pockets, my nerves jumpy, my eyes on her. Slowly she turned her head until she was looking at me.

“Scared, Johnny?” she asked, and her eyebrows lifted.

“It is not a matter of being scared,” I said. “It’s a matter of knowing when you’re licked. We’ve played our best card, and he’s trumped it. I don’t know the first thing about checking his accounts, but that’s neither here nor there. Even if I could read a balance sheet that still doesn’t give us access to the reserve. I always thought this was a screwy idea. What made you think he would hand over his keys?”

She stared at her cigarette, flicked ash on the floor, and smiled secretively to herself.

“So you want to run away?”

“There’s no alternative. Can’t you see that? All he has to do is to put a call through to Hollenheimer and ask him for a description of Ricca: then up goes the balloon.”

“There was always that risk. You don’t think I hadn’t taken that into consideration?”

I stared at her.

“Had you?”

“I thought it was more than likely he’d check with Hollenheimer. Nick’s no fool.”

I moved closer and stood at the foot of the divan.

“What’s the answer, then? What do you suggest we do when he finds out I’m not Ricca? He’s probably found out by now.”

“Let’s not worry about that,” she said. “There are more important things to think about.”

“Not for me there aren’t. Suppose Reisner gives Hame the story? Then it’ll all come out, and we’ll go to jail for what we did to Wertham.”

“Poor Johnny,” she said, and laughed. “How fussed you’re getting. Can’t you see Reisner will be as anxious as we are that no one should find out Paul’s dead? When a kingdom loses its king, there’s always a scramble to grab. Zoe, Itta, Hame and Ricca — especially Ricca — aren’t going to stand aside and let Reisner take over, and he knows it. He’ll be as anxious as we are that no one should know Paul is dead until he has got control of the casino. He won’t tell Hame. He won’t tell anyone. Now do you see why we haven’t a lot to worry about?”

I sat on the foot of the divan. This was something I hadn’t figured on.

“That guy’s dangerous,” I said. “Okay, suppose he keeps his mouth shut? What’s he going to do about us?”

She lifted a long, slender leg and examined it critically.

“He’ll probably put a bullet through our heads,” she said calmly. “It would be the most sensible thing to do so far as he’s concerned. He’s good at arranging accidents. Does that scare you, Johnny?”