James Chase - Strictly For Cash

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 information. 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 hurry. 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.

“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 anymore. “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.

“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.

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 forger 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 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 nearby 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 believe it.

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