Strictly For Cash (9 page)

Everything about him shrieked of money: his clothes, his linen, his personal jewellery were the best money could buy. He had a diamond ring on his little finger: the stone was as big as a pigeon's egg.

He came silently across the room: his feet making no sound on the parquet floor. In his right hand he carried a large bunch of blood-red carnations, carefully wrapped in tissue paper.

He came to the foot of the bed and stood looking at me. Riskin stepped aside; a benign expression on his wrinkled face.

"Hello, Johnny," the fat man said. He had a soft, fruity voice as if it came from a throat well cushioned with fat.

"He looks fine, doesn't he?" the fat man went on, smiling at Riskin. "Jeepers, Johnny, you gave me a scare. I've been looking all over for you. How do you feel?"

"I don't know you," I said, and my voice was husky. "Get out of here!"

"Take it easy, boy," Riskin said mildly. "Give him a chance to talk to you. You want to get well, don't you? We've got to get this mind of yours working again."

"I tell you I don't know him!"

The fat man put the carnations down on the bedside table.

"You've taken a pretty bad knock, Johnny," he said. "The doc thinks I can help you. I want to help you. You know that."

I was scared of him. In spite of his smile there was something about his eyes that warned me he was as dangerous as a rattlesnake.

"I don't want to talk to you."

He puffed breath at me, and his diamond flashed in the sunlight coming through the open window.

"Come on, Johnny, let's try to get on top of this thing," he said. "There's Ginny to think of. You haven't forgotten Ginny? You can imagine how she is feeling. She wants to see you, Johnny."

Was there no end to this? I found myself clutching hold of the sheet again.

"I don't know what you're talking about! I don't want you in here. Get out!"

"You don't remember Ginny - the girl you're going to marry ?" He looked over at Riskin, raising his fat shoulders. "I can't believe that. Would you like to see her? Is that what you'd like?"

I just lay there, staring at him while a cold wind blew through my mind.

"You two get together," Riskin said. "I gotta go. Take it easy, boy. It's going to work out all right, only you've got to be receptive."

There was a long pause after he had gone. The fat man puffed gently, his smile remained fixed, and his snake's eyes watched me.

"You get out, too," I said.

Instead, he reached for a chair and sat down.

"Know what they call that guy on the Force ?" he asked. "They call him Foxy Riskin. He's made a hit with you, hasn't he, with his 'boy' this and his boy' that? You think he's trying to help you, don't you? Well, he isn't. All he wants to do is to get your confidence, and when he's got that, when he's softened you up and got your guard down, he's going to slap a murder rap on you, and he's going to make it stick."

I didn't know whether I was coming or going. I turned hot, then cold.

"If it wasn't for me," the fat man went on, resting his pudgy hands on his fat knees and staring at me, "you'd be in jail now. All he wants is the motive, and I could tell him that, but I've kept my mouth shut because you and I are going to make a deal."

"I won't listen to you," I said. "Get out of here!"

"They don't know who she is. I could tell them, and once they know, you're sunk," the fat man went on. "It doesn't suit me for them to find out, but if it has to come out, I'll handle it as I handle most things."

"I don't know what you're talking about. You're not my cousin! I've never seen you before in my life!"

His smile widened.

"Of course I'm not your cousin, but do you want me to tell Riskin that? Do you want three murder raps pinned on you? Isn't one enough?"

I got hold of myself. I had to, or I'd have blown my top.

"You're mixing me up with someone else," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I'm John Farrar. I'm not Ricca, and I'm not your cousin. Now will you please get out!"

"I know you're Farrar. You're the guy who killed Wertharn and Reisner. Sure, I know you, and you killed her, too. If it hadn't been for the gun they might have thought it was an accident, but they found the gun. It had her prints on it."

"You know I'm Farrar?" I said, leaning forward to stare at him. "Then all this talk about me being Ricca is a lie?"

"He thinks you're Ricca," the fat man said, "and so long as he thinks so I can swing it. Once he finds out you're Farrar, you're done for."

I put my head in my hands. I felt I was going crazy.

"Suppose we skip the comedy," the fat man went on, and his smile oozed off his face like a fish sliding off a fishmonger's slab. "You play with me and I'll play with you. I'll show you how to out-fox Riskin. With me behind you, you can beat this rap." He thrust his head forward: he looked like a tortoise sitting there, his hands on his knees, his head forward, his eyes hooded. "Where've you hidden the money?"

I didn't say anything. I didn't look at him. I went on holding my head in my hands. But I was getting my second wind. I was getting the hang of this set-up.

"Now, look," he said, "you're in a corner, and there's no way out for you unless you play along with me, I can fix it. I'll get Hame to handle it. He'll talk to Riskin. Tell me where the money is, and there'll be no blow-back. You can walk out of here as free as the air. What do you say?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said, and was surprised how steady my voice was now.

He studied me.

"Use your head, Farrar. You can't expect to get away with all that money, I tell you what I'll do. I'll stake you. I'll give you five grand, and I'll fix Riskin. That's fair, isn't it?"

"If you think Riskin can pin anything on me, go ahead and let him do it. You're mixing me up with someone else. I don't know anything about any money."

"Don't get excited," he said, his fat fingers knees drumming on my knees. "You don't trust me, do you? But ask yourself: why should I bother about you? You can walk out of here and do what you damn well like. Why should I care? She was the one who cared. I don't. Give me the dough and I'll see you right. Now come on. Where is it?"

"I don't know," I said. "And if I did know I wouldn't tell you. Now get out!"

His fat face turned into a mask of snarling fury. He looked like a demon.

"You fool!" he exclaimed, and his voice shook. "Do you think I'm taken in by this loss of memory stunt of yours? Where have you hidden it? If you don't tell me you'll wish you'd never been born. Where is it?"

"Get out!"

He got control of himself. The meaningless smile came back as he stood up.

"Okay, if that's the way you want to play it," he said. "Suit yourself. I'll talk to Riskin. In a couple of hours from now you'll be in jail. Maybe you think you can talk yourself out of one murder rap, but I'm damned sure you won't talk yourself out of three."

He walked silently to the door.

"Want to change your mind?" he asked, pausing to look back at me.

"Get out!" I said.

He went out quietly the way he had come in: like a ghost without a house to haunt.

IV

Before I could even start to think what all this meant a nurse came in.

"Did you enjoy your visitor?" she asked, smiling at me. "Imagine him being your cousin. You're not a bit alike."

"Cousins don't have to be," I said, surprised I could say anything.

"I guess that's right. Did he leave these?" She picked up the carnations. "Aren't they wonderful!"

"You have them. I don't care about flowers. I'll be glad if you'll take them away."

"Well, if you really mean that. Why, thanks. I think they're wonderful." She picked them up and sniffed at them. "Your cousin must have a lot of money. That diamond he was wearing and his car!"

"Yeah, he doesn't starve."

"I'm beginning to suspect you're someone very important."

"Who me? I'm nobody. What gave you that idea?"

"Well, those two policemen outside. They told me they were guarding you, I guess you must be important."

I kept a dead pan expression, but it was an effort.

"My cousin imagines someone's going to kidnap me. He's nuts, but there it is. I didn't know about the cops. How long have they been here?"

"Oh, they've just arrived."

I was beginning to get the shakes again.

"Tell me, nurse, what happened to my clothes ?"

"They're in that closet; over there. Did you want something?"

"No, it's okay. I just wondered. The doc said something about me leaving at the end of the week. I just wondered what had happened to them."

"Well, they're right in that closet. Is there anything I can get you?"

"I guess not, thanks. I think I'll take a nap. Those two guys made me feel tired."

"Thanks for the flowers. They really are something."

"You're welcome."

I watched her leave the room, then as soon as I was sure she had gone, I sat up.

I had to get out of here. I had to go somewhere away from Riskin and Ricca and work this thing out for myself. The way I figured it there could be only two explanations: this was either a case of mistaken identity or one of them or even both of them were trying to frame me.

It was now twenty minutes past six. The nurse brought me supper at seven-fifteen sharp. That gave me fifty minutes to dress and get out of the hospital before I was missed.

I lowered my feet to the floor and stood up. I felt weak in the legs and wobbly, but not anything like so wobbly as I thought I was going to feel. I went over to the closet and opened the door. I was expecting to find the white tropical suit Brant had given me, but instead there was a dark-blue flannel suit on a hanger, a white silk shirt, a pair of black leather shoes, and a wide-brimmed hat on a shelf.

I stared at the clothes, knowing they weren't mine. But that wasn't going to stop me. If my clothes weren't to hand I'd take someone else's.

I pulled on the pair of blue and white check socks I found stuck in the shoes. I put the shoes on: they fitted me as if they were made for me. The shirt was a fit, too, and so was the suit.

It took me over ten minutes to get dressed, and I was feeling pretty bad by the time I was through. I had to sit on the bed until my heart stopped racing. I was panting like a worn-out horse.

I nearly forgot the hat, but that was important. I had to have something to hide the bandages around my head. I got it on. It was right, and it made my head ache, but I had to wear it.

Then I crept over to the door, eased it open and glanced into the passage.

At the far end standing at the head of the stairs, were two cops; their backs to me. They stood with their hands behind them, and every now and then they flexed their knees the way cops do on the movies.

I looked to my right, but the corridor ended in big double windows. My only way out was down the stairs, and I wouldn't get far with those cops waiting there to stop me.

I closed the door and sneaked over to the window. Apart from being on the sixth floor, the ground below was packed with patients sun bathing. If I tried going out that way I'd be spotted in seconds.

While I was trying to figure a way out, I heard voices in the corridor. Creeping over to the door I opened it a crack and peered out, ready to make a dive for the bed.

There was a nurse and a guy in a white coat out there. They were manoeuvring a wheeled trolley into the room opposite mine.

I waited, my eyes on the clock on the over-mantel. It was now ten minutes to seven. Time was running out. I had only twenty minutes before the nurse arrived with my supper. If I were going to get out I'd have to do something fast.

I was still at the door, trying to make up my mind what to do when the nurse and the attendant reappeared.

"I'll take her down after I've seen the doc," he said. "I've forgotten the mortician's certificate."

"One of these days you'll forget your head, not that it would be a great loss," the nurse said tartly, and turned away.

The attendant made a pass at her, but she anticipated it and whisked her rear out of reach.

"And if you don't keep your paws ..."

"I know. I know," the attendant said wearily. "You'll tell the matron. Why don't you relax sometime?"

The nurse walked off down the corridor, and the attendant followed her. The two cops obligingly stood aside to let them go down the stairs.

I stood hesitating, then I eased open the door. The cops were leaning over the banisters; probably watching the nurse out of sight. Their backs were to me.

The attendant had given me the clue, and I sneaked across the corridor, turned the handle of the door opposite eased it open and stepped inside. I was ready to jump out of my skin, and very nearly did when I saw a body under a sheet on the trolley.

I took hold of the corner of the sheet and lifted it. I was shaking now from head to foot. The dead woman looked as if she were asleep. What I was about to do horrified me, but I knew if I didn't go through with it I wasn't going to get away. I looked frantically around the room for a place to hide her, but there was nowhere. Close by was another door. I opened it an inch and peered into a luxuriously fitted bathroom.

I ran back to the trolley and wheeled it into the bathroom. Then I stripped off the sheet and keeping my eyes averted I lifted the body and staggered with it to the bath. It was as much as I could do to lower it into the bath, but I did it somehow. Then I pulled the shower curtains and shoved the trolley back into the bedroom.