Джеймс Чейз - You're Dead Without Money

‘For God’s sake! How much are they worth?’

‘To you or to me... very little, but to a keen collector a great deal.’

‘How much?’

‘I don’t think we need go into that, Mr. Elliot.’ Louis gave Elliot a foxy smile. ‘The point we are discussing is that these stamps if you can get them would be worth two hundred thousand to you.’

Elliot sat back. This could be the way to solve his present problems, he thought, but could he persuade Larrimore to sell?

‘If I’m going to talk to Larrimore I must have a figure,’ he said. ‘That’s obvious, isn’t it? I have to tell him the sum your man wants to pay. How else can I persuade him to sell?’

Louis ran his fingers through his sable tinted hair.

‘I don’t think you would get anywhere with Mr. Larrimore whatever sum you offered. Our client has already written to him and Mr. Larrimore won’t sell. No, approaching Mr. Larrimore would only end in disaster.’

Elliot frowned.

‘So just what are you getting at?’

Louis again studied his fingernails as if he found them fascinating.

‘We felt that as you are on friendly terms with Mr. Larrimore and have access to his house, you might see a way to get hold of these stamps. If you did, we would pay you immediately — two hundred thousand in cash.’ Louis got to his feet as Elliot stared at him as if he didn’t believe what he was hearing. ‘And, of course, there would be no questions asked.’

Elliot remained still for a long moment, then he said, a grating note in his voice, ‘Are you suggesting I should steal these stamps for Claude?’

Louis waved his hands, not looking at Elliot.

‘We’re not suggesting anything, Mr. Elliot You happen to have the opportunity of getting the stamps — how you get them is no business of ours — we will accept them from you, ask no questions and give you two hundred thousand dollars.’

Elliot got to his feet. The look in his eyes made Louis take a hurried step back.

‘Get out!’ The anger in Elliot’s voice made Louis retreat still further. ‘Tell Claude I don’t deal with crooks! I’ll find someone to buy my stuff! Tell him he’s seen the last of me!’

Louis lifted his shoulders in a resigned shrug.

‘I did warn him you might not go along with his thinking, but Claude is a complete optimist. No hard feelings, Mr. Elliot. Of course the offer stands should you change your mind.’

‘Get out!’

Louis sighed and turning, he weaved his way down the path that led to the car park. He drove back to the gallery and went immediately to Claude’s room.

‘The sonofabitch won’t play,’ he said as he shut the door. ‘He called you a crook and said he never wanted to see you again. I warned you, Claude. Now what are we going to do?’

Kendrick took off his wig and laid it on the desk while he thought.

‘It was a chance and it still could remain a good chance. I will bring a little pressure to bear on dear Don.’ He brooded, then opening his desk drawer he took from it a leather bound address book. ‘Who would you say is Elliot’s biggest creditor?’

‘Luce & Fremlin,’ Louis said promptly. ‘He has given every tramp he’s laid a piece of jewellery. The last one got a diamond and ruby ring that must have cost the earth.’

Kendrick consulted his book, then called Luce & Fremlin, the best and most expensive jewellers in the City.

He asked to be connected with Mr. Fremlin, the junior partner and a raving homosexual.

‘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.’