Джеймс Чейз - The Way the Cookie Crumbles

‘Hi!’ Wanassee exclaimed. ‘Where did you spring from? What’s a pretty little girl like you doing down here all on your own?’

‘Good afternoon, Mr. Wanassee,’ Ira said, coming around her desk. ‘I’ve taken Miss Kirby’s place for a week or so. She’s had an accident.’

‘Is that right?’ Wanassee was staring at Ira’s long, lovely legs. ‘An accident, huh? Don’t tell me some hero has knocked her up?’

Ira laughed.

‘Oh, no, Mr. Wanassee, she fell down stairs.’

‘That’s the best thing she could have done,’ Wanassee moved a little closer. This was really a doll, he was thinking. Just his luck that he was leaving that night. ‘And who are you, honey? What’s your name?’

‘Norena Devon.’

‘Devon? The same name as the V.P.?’

‘He’s my father.’

‘Is that right?’ Wanassee looked astonished. ‘Your father? Well, hang me for a hog! I’ve been coming to this joint now for the past ten years and I was never told Mel had a daughter. and what a daughter!’

Ira looked demure.

‘I’ve just left school, Mr. Wanassee. Now I’m working here.’

‘Do you like it?’

‘It’s all right. It’s nice meeting Daddy’s favourite clients.’

Wanassee grinned.

‘That include me?’

She looked at him: an up from under look that she knew always excited the men, especially the older men.

‘Why, of course, Mr. Wanassee. Daddy told me to be specially nice to you.’

‘Did he? But wouldn’t you have been if he hadn’t told you?’

She lowered her eyes.

‘I should think every girl would be nice to you, Mr. Wanassee. You look just like one of those big Western movie stars. I can imagine you on a horse.’

Wanassee puffed out his chest.

‘Yeah. there’s not many guys my age as big and strong as I am.’

‘Your age? Why, Mr. Wanassee, what do you mean? You’re not old.’

It was easy after that. She led him on, got him to talk about himself, no difficult task, stood staring up at him, her eyes glowing with admiration, and when she finally held out her hand and asked for his key, he handed it to her without pausing in his account of how he had made his millions. Still talking he followed her along the narrow lane that led to his safe. She had no difficulty in pressing the key into the putty she had concealed in her left hand. Her body, moving ahead of him, hid what she was doing.

In any case, Wanassee was fully occupied staring at her neat little bottom as it duck-tailed along in front of him. Pausing at the safe, she unlocked both locks and handed him his key.

‘I’ll leave you now, Mr. Wanassee. If there’s anything I can do just ring for me.’

‘You stay right where you are, honey,’ Wanassee said. ‘This won’t take a second.’

He opened the safe and taking a bulky envelope from his pocket, he tossed it carelessly into the safe.

Ira felt her heart give a little lurch of excitement as she peered over his shoulder. The safe was crammed with one hundred dollar bills. She had never seen so much money. She had only a brief glimpse as Wanassee slammed the door shut. He turned the key and stood aside.

‘Lock it up, honey,’ he said, dropping the key into his pocket.

Moving past him, Ira put the pass key into the second lock.

Wanassee eyed her back. The lust that was always close to the surface broke through his control. This was too good an opportunity to miss. His urge was so strong, he didn’t even wonder if she would make a fuss.

As Ira locked the safe, she felt Wanassee’s hot fingers cup her left buttock and gently squeeze it. Controlling the impulse to swing around and plant her fist in his mouth, she remained motionless, letting him squeeze again before she looked over her shoulder at him, her eyes big and startled.

‘Oh, Mr. Wanassee, you shouldn’t do that. Really, you shouldn’t.’

Suddenly ashamed of himself and a little frightened, Wanassee moved hurriedly away from her.

‘That’s right,’ he said huskily. ‘I don’t know what got into me. I’m sorry, honey. I shouldn’t have done it.’

She turned and smiled brightly at him.

‘But I’d rather it was you if it has to be someone, Mr. Wanassee. You’ve no idea how I’m pestered in the subway. Those men are horrible, but you... well, you’re different.’

Wanassee blew out his cheeks with relief. He must have been crazy to have touched her like that. Suppose she had yelled. Suppose she had complained to her father?

‘By God, Norena, that’s pretty nice of you,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t have done it. I know how a little girl like you can get pestered.’ He took out his wallet, selected a hundred dollar bill, folded it and pressed it into her hand. ‘Don’t refuse an old man, honey. You forget what I did, huh? You buy yourself something. some frillies, and don’t tell your Pa.’

Patting her shoulder, he turned and lumbered away down the lane.

Ira put her tongue out after him.

‘You cheap creep!’ she said under her breath. ‘What a shock you’re going to get when you come back next year!’

Ticky Edris parked his car and got out stiffly, aware that his back was aching. The long, hard hours at La Coquille restaurant were exhausting him. Now the end was in sight, the work seemed harder and the hours endless. He looked at his wrist watch. The time was 02.55. A hell of a time to get back from work! He glanced up at the apartment block and was surprised to see the light was on in his sitting room.

It wasn’t usual for Algir to be waiting up. Had something gone wrong? Exerting himself, he trotted across the sidewalk, and up the steps and across the lobby to the elevator.

He would be thankful when Algir got some money, he thought, as the elevator took him up to his apartment. Having him as a boarder was not Ticky’s idea of fun.

He unlocked the front door of the apartment and entered the living room.

Algir was sitting before the kitchen table he had brought into the living room and which he had converted into a workbench. On the table was a small foot-driven lathe, a vice and a number of tools. To one side was a pile of key blanks.

‘You’re working late,’ Edris said, crossing over to the cocktail cabinet. ‘What’s new?’

‘Knock it off, this is tricky!’ Algir grunted.

Edris poured himself a stiff whisky, kicked off his shoes and sat down heavily in his armchair. He watched Algir as he used a fine, rattail file on a key blank. After some ten minutes, Algir pushed back his chair with a sigh of relief.

‘I guess that’s it. That’s taken me four blasted hours to get right.’ He got to his feet and fixed himself a whisky. ‘Ira was here this evening. She brought a beautiful impression of a key belonging to Hyam Wanassee’s safe.’

Edris slopped his drink.

‘Wanassee! He’s about the richest! He eats regularly at La Coquille. He tips fifteen fish at a throw!’

‘He left by the evening plane. She’s going to empty his safe tomorrow morning. That’s why I’m working this late. There could be enough in that box to put us in the gravy for the next six months!’

‘This is the beginning of it, Phil! Tomorrow she may get hold of another key. You’ve got to keep at it! No slacking off. You’ve got to cut those keys as fast as she gives you the impressions. I tell you: this could net a million... more!’

Algir nodded. He sipped his whisky and then leaned forward.

‘Something is bothering me, Ticky. Something maybe you have missed out on.’

Edris looked sharply at him.

‘What is it?’

‘Did it ever occur to you that Ira might cheat us?’ Algir said. ‘She transfers the money into my safe. Later, I come around and pick up the money and bring it here. What’s to stop her transferring only part of the money and keeping the bulk of it herself?’