Джеймс Чейз - You're Dead Without Money

‘Oh, something he got hold of. People are always sending him stamps. I don’t know. Look, Superman, let’s skip my old man. Let’s talk about something else.’

Vin poured himself another cup of coffee.

‘Who is this guy who offered all this money?’

Judy paused as she began to butter another piece of toast. Her green eyes suddenly became quizzing.

‘Why should you care?’

Vin realized he was out on thin ice.

‘So you don’t know?’

‘Suppose I do?’

‘Well, okay, baby, if you want to make a mystery of it.’ He shrugged. ‘I was just curious.’

‘Oh, let’s skip stamps.’ She munched the toast. ‘Let’s go swimming. I know a marvellous place where you can swim in your skin.’

‘Fine.’ Remembering Elliot’s advice not to rush it, Vin reluctantly decided to drop his probe for the time being.

After they had finished breakfast and Vin had paid the check for the night’s stay, they went together to the Jaguar. They drove some twenty miles along the coast road and then down a narrow sandy lane that led to a small deserted cove with access to the sea.

They left the car, stripped off and swam, then getting under the shade from a clump of palms, they stretched out, side by side.

‘This is the life,’ Judy said. ‘Man! If I could do this every day! Are you staying long, Superman?’

‘What would you do if you had a million dollars, chick?’ Vin asked, staring up at the overhanging palm leaves.

‘Still got that on your mind?’ Judy turned on her side and studied him. ‘What’s with it?’

‘I’m asking you a question,’ Vin said, not looking at her.

‘So okay... with that kind of bread I’d get out of this goddamn country. I’d go to Paris and buy myself a ritzy apartment and get into the life there... the life I want to live. I’d have a ball. I’d have another place in Capri. I’d have a ball there too. With all that money, the men would come. I wouldn’t even have to look for them.’

‘If your old man has all these stamps would he miss these eight if you took them?’ Vin asked.

Judy remained silent for so long, Vin got worried that he had rushed this too fast, then she said, ‘Yes, he’d miss them. He spends most of his time gloating over his stamps and now this guy has offered all this money, I bet he gloats over those stamps more than the others.’

‘What guy?’

Judy sat up, cupping her naked breasts.

‘You may think I’m dim, Superman, but I’m going to surprise you. Are you thinking of trying to get these stamps and selling them to this man who has made this offer?’

This was it, Vin thought. He had rushed it, but this could be his chance. He turned on his side and looked up at her.

‘It’s an idea that occurred to me,’ he said. If we get a payoff like that we would split it down the middle or if you want to stick with me we could share the lot and have a real ball together.’

They stared at each other.

‘Just who are you?’ she asked. ‘That account executive crap doesn’t jell with me. Who are you?’

‘A guy on the make.’ Vin grinned. ‘Like you: thirsty for money. You and me could work this... as partners.’

She got to her feet and with a towel she wiped the sand off her buttocks and thighs. He lay there, watching her, tense, wondering if he had played the wrong card or the right card too fast He felt a growing uneasiness as she dressed in silence.

‘Well, for Pete’s sake! Say something!’

She looked down at him.

‘Let me tell you something, Superman. I don’t trust anyone and that includes you. If you think you’re smart enough to get those stamps, I’ll help you, but you don’t get the name of the man who wants to buy them. I’ll handle that end of it. And if there is going to be a split, it’ll be a split on my terms. Seven-fifty for me and two-fifty for you.’

A tricky chick, Vin thought. Okay, let’s play along. Get the stamps, then I’ll take over. If she imagines she’s going to have that kind of split then she needs her head examined, but okay, let’s play along.

He got up and put on his clothes while she wandered over to the Jaguar. When he had dressed, he joined her.

‘Let’s have a drink,’ she said, getting into the car. ‘I’m as thirsty as a camel!’

He took her to a beach bar and bought her a double gin and tonic while he had a beer. It was still too early for the bar to be crowded so they sat at an isolated table under the awning and Vin began to work on her.

‘How do we get the stamps, baby?’ he asked.

She regarded him.

‘You’re keen, aren’t you?’

‘Skip the smart dialogue,’ Vin said sharply. ‘Are we going to work together on this or aren’t we?’

She sipped her drink while she continued to eye him.

‘Do you imagine, Superman, that if there was a chance, I wouldn’t have taken the stamps weeks ago, sold them and got the hell out of here? It’s no deal. The old stinker has his collection protected.’

‘Maybe with the two of us working at it, we could swing it.’

She shook her head.

‘This is a waste of time. You won’t get them so forget it. Let’s talk about what we’re going to do tonight’

‘Where money is concerned,’ Vin said, ‘nothing is a waste of time. Where does he keep his collection?’

‘In the house. He has a big room, lined with drawers. In each drawer there are stamps set out under glass and each drawer is wired to a burglar alarm. There are hundreds of drawers and thousands of stamps. Believe me, looking for one particular stamp is like looking for a virgin in this City... strictly for the birds.’

‘What’s his security like?’

‘Tricky alarms wired direct to the cop house. Each drawer automatically locks when he throws a switch when he isn’t in the stamp room. The switch is in a steel box built into the wall and he always has the key. There is a closed circuit TV and the monitor is watched by Security Guards, night and day when he isn’t in the room.’ She grimaced. ‘He takes care of his stamps... that’s all he cares about.’

Vin turned this information over in his mind. After a long pause, he said, ‘Okay... but suppose I got in the stamp room without raising the alarm, how do I find these eight stamps?’

She stared at him, then laughed.

‘You don’t get in.’

‘I said suppose I did.’

She shrugged.

‘You’ll find something like eight hundred drawers all containing thousands of stamps, all under glass and the drawers wired to the cop house and watched by Security Guards so if you touch just one of the drawers you’ll get a lapful of fuzz.’

Burglar alarms, closed circuit TV and police didn’t bother Vin. He was an expert in his field, but what did bother him was the thought of getting into this stamp room and then trying to find eight particular stamps.

‘Look, baby,’ he said, ‘your old man can’t have a miracle memory. Suppose he wants one particular stamp among all these thousands? He must have a system of finding it fast.’

‘He has. He and I worked it out together... that was before mummy died and before I realized there was more to life than fooling around with a lot of crappy stamps.’

Vin felt his pulse rate quicken.

‘What’s the system then?’

‘It’s simple. Each drawer has a number. He keeps a register. For instance U.S.A. stamps are in drawers numbered one to a hundred and fifty. These drawers are broken down into dates and again into rare stamps. During the day he carries the register around with him and at night he locks it in a safe in his bedroom.’

‘What’s it look like?’

‘A little leather loose leaf book he carries in the inside pocket of his jacket Short of knocking the old buzzard on the head, no one will get it.’