James Chase: Strictly For Cash

Not so good. In a few minutes the hotel would be teeming with police.

The car stopped on the fifth floor and the two lounge lizards got off: nobody got on. That left the starter, the girl and myself.

“Twenty-second, please,” the girl said, and ran her thumb along the length of the halter, just inside.

The starter goggled at her, his eyes shifting to her suntanned legs.

“Yes, miss,” he said. He looked at me as he closed the doors. “What’s your room, mister?”

“I’m making a call.”

“Sorry; against the rules. You have to check at the desk first.”

“A little late for that, isn’t it?”

The blonde was staring at me now. She dug her thumbs into the elastic top of her shorts, pulled it away from her waist and let it snap back again. She seemed full of cute tricks.

“I’ll have to take you down, sir,” the starter said, his mind more on the girl’s shorts than on me.

“Please yourself,” I said, shrugging.

The car stopped at the twenty-second floor and the doors swung open. The blonde got off. She began to walk down the long corridor. The starter paused to watch her go. Her behind jiggled as she walked: it seemed to fascinate him.

I tapped him on the shoulder. As he turned my fist connected with his jaw. I hit him so hard I nearly tore his head off his shoulders. He folded down on hands and knees and stretched out. I picked up the suitcase, stepped out of the car and pressed the outside button, closing the doors. Then I set off down the corridor after the blonde.

I caught up with her as she was putting a key into the lock of a door marked 22/4454. She was opening the door when she be-came aware of me standing behind her. Her eyes popped open and she took a hasty step forward that took her inside the room. I had Benno’s .38 in my hand and I touched her naked midriff with it.

“No screaming,” I said pleasantly, and rode her into the room, closed the door with my heel and set down the suitcase.

“What do you want?” she asked, in a strangled voice.

“Sit down and take it easy,” I said. “Nothing’s going to happen to you. The cops are after me, and I am staying here until they go away.”

She sat down. She seemed glad to.

I lugged the suitcase to the open window, and looked out. It was a long, long way down to the promenade. Already there was a big crowd gathering outside the hotel. As I looked three prowl cars with wailing sirens came rushing towards the hotel entrance.

“In ten minutes or so,” I said, turning away from the window, “the cops are going to call on you. Please yourself what you do. I’m wanted for four murders: one more won’t make any difference to me, but a lot to you. Tell them you haven’t seen me. If you try any tricks you’ll get the first bullet. Okay?”

She blanched.

I was sorry for her, but I was in such a jam I couldn’t afford to pull any punches. I kept by the window. The crowd grew every second. More prowl cars arrived. The cops started to shove the crowd back, leaving a wide space before the hotel. There must have been three thousand people down there, and their numbers were growing every second.

I heard sounds in the corridor. No cop can walk quietly, and when there are a number of them, they sound like a herd of buffalo moving around.

They were going from room to room as I guessed they would. Well, it was up to the blonde now. If she let me down I was sunk.

“They’ll be here in a minute,” I said, trying to make my voice tough. “You know what to do,” and I waved the gun at her.

She sat as still as a waxwork; her eyes growing bigger, and her face the colour of old parchment. She didn’t look pretty anymore.

Then there came a rap on the door.

For a long moment of time nothing happened. I looked at the blonde and motioned to the door with my gun. She stared at me, horror mounting in her eyes.

The knock came again: louder this time.

“Go ahead,” I whispered, sure now she wasn’t going to do it. I was right. She suddenly gave a wailing scream and slid off the chair on to the floor.

“Open up!” a voice bawled, and a shoulder thudded against the door panel.

There was no future for me now. Once in their hands, with Hame in charge of the investigation, I was as good as dead. But that didn’t worry me. All I could think of right at this moment was the money in the suitcase. If I couldn’t have it, then I was determined Hame wasn’t going to have it. Nothing else mattered to me now except how to keep that suitcase away from him.

The voice again bawled through the door panels. “Open up, Farrar! We know you’re in there!”

Once again a shoulder crashed against the door which creaked, but held.

I went to the window and looked out. Running the whole length of the building below the window was a foot wide ledge. Leaning out, I could see the ledge terminated about thirty yards away to my right by a bulging piece of floral carving, overlooking the corner of Roosevelt and Ocean. If I could reach that bulge I would have excellent cover from a shot in the back.

I looked down. Three hundred feet below me the promenade teemed with people, staring up at me. It made me feel a little sick as I looked at the narrowness of the ledge, but it was either that or to be shot down when they broke into the room.

Again the shoulder crashed against the door. I swung my leg over the windowsill and got out on to the ledge. I held on to the framework of the window, groped inside and hauled up the suitcase.

A tremendous roar of excitement came from the crowd below, but I didn’t look down. I stood for a second or so, staring straight ahead, my heart hammering and my knees weak. It would have been bad enough to take that walk without the suitcase, but with it, pulling me off balance all the time, it was going to be a nightmare.

Bracing myself, my shoulder rubbing the face of the building, I began to move forward.

I put one foot directly before the other, like a tight-rope walker, not attempting to move fast, and keeping my eyes fixed on the bulging corner stone ahead of me.

I crept past a window, moved on, aware of an urge to look down. I struggled against it, knowing if I did, I was done for.

Ahead of me was another window, then wall space, then the corner stone. When I was within six feet of the window a man’s head appeared. I stopped short, my breath whistling through my clenched teeth.

He was a fair, tanned man in a fawn sports jacket and a bottle-green shirt. He gaped at me, his mouth falling open. Very slowly, so as not to disturb my balance, I slid my right hand into my hip pocket and pulled out Benno’s gun.

“Mind you don’t fall,” the man said in a horrified strangled croak. “Hadn’t you better come in here?”

“Get back and shut the window,” I said, and pointed the gun at him.

He gave a gasp and jerked back from the window. Once again the crowd roared at me.

I started to move forward again. When I reached the window I peered in, the gun pushed forward. The room was empty. The door stood open.

I had twenty feet to go before I reached the shelter of the corner stone. I moved more quickly. Behind me I heard a shout, but I didn’t look round. I kept on, expecting to hear a shot and feel a bullet smash into me, but nothing happened.

I reached the corner stone and gripped hold of one of its projections. Even then I wouldn’t look down.

For a moment or so I stood there, trying to get my breath looking at the buildings opposite: the windows crammed with staring faces, not more than fifty yards from me.

“Get back you fool!” a man shouted at me. “What do you think you’re doing?”

I put the suitcase down on the ledge behind me. Still holding on to the projection I began to climb around it. A woman screamed. The roar of the crowd surged up and submerged me in sound. Satisfied I had a good hand and foothold, I reached down and pulled the suitcase to me. Then, clinging on, I lifted it. For perhaps three or four seconds I remained pressed against the projecting corner, my foot wedged into one of the ornate carvings, the fingers of my left hand dug into a crevasse of stone, the suitcase dangling from my right hand in space. Its weight upset my balance, but I managed to hang on while the people at the windows opposite yelled and screamed at me.