Knock Knock Who's There? (22 page)
Read Knock Knock Who's There? Online
Authors: James Hadley Chase
"But where's Bernie and Clive?" Salvadore looked around, then knelt, putting his hand on the worn carpet. "Been recently washed." The two men looked at each other, then Salvadore went out on deck, staring into the clear water on the lake. Toni joined him.
"You think he knocked them off?"
"How the hell do I know?" Salvadore went back into the livingroom and shoved the table aside. He found a small patch of dried blood that Johnny had missed in spite of his careful cleaning up. "Look."
Toni peered over his shoulder.
"So he did knock them off," he said huskily.
"Yeah and he's taken their car. You'd better talk to Mr. Luigi and fast."
Twenty-five minutes later, Toni was reporting to Luigi. Five minutes later, Luigi was reporting to Massino.
Massino was so incensed he could hardly speak. Finally, he screamed, "You get nothing from me! I'll talk to the Big Man! You're as useless as a broken leg!"
"Take it easy, Joe. I've alerted the cops to find the car," Luigi said, sweating. "I've lost two good men. You can't talk this way to me."
"No? You'll see! I'll give you thirty-six hours to find them or I talk to the Big Man!" and Massino slammed down the receiver.
Luigi thought for a long moment, then he put a call through to his Don who ruled Florida. He explained the situation, and gave a detailed description of Johnny and Freda.
"Okay," the Don said. "As soon as the cops have located the car, let me know. We'll find them."
"Massino says he gives me thirty-six hours. He's raging mad," Luigi said uneasily.
The Don laughed. "Forget it. Massino's just a bag of wind. I'll talk to the Big Man myself," and he hung up.
Freda stood outside the Greyhound bus station, clutching a small hold-all. She had been waiting for twenty minutes. She looked constantly from left to right, but she could see no sign of Johnny. Her heart was beating violently and she felt sick with fear.
"You sucker!" she told herself. "Of course he's walked out on you! What did you expect? All that money! Why should he share it? $186,000 ! To think so much money exists! Men! God! How I hate them! They've only one thought in their filthy minds!"
"Sorry to keep you waiting, baby. I scarcely recognize you. You look great."
She spun around, staring at the short, thick-set man at her side, her heart leaping. For a moment she didn't know him. He was clean shaven except for his heavy moustache and he had had his head shaved, Yul Brynner style. He was wearing grey flannel slacks, a white shirt and a lightweight dark-blue jacket.
"Oh, Johnny!"
She made a move towards him, her voice breaking, but he drew back.
"Watch it!" The snap in his voice stiffened her. "Later. I've got the tickets. It held me up. Come on, let's go."
She was so relieved he hadn't deserted her, she wanted to cry, but she controlled herself. She followed him to the bus and they climbed in.
Johnny regarded her as they sat at the back of the bus, nodding his approval. She too had changed her appearance. She was now a red-head and it suited her. She was wearing a dark-green trouser suit and big sun goggles. He eyed every passenger who boarded the bus, but he saw no one to alert an alarm.
It wasn't until the bus began to roar along the freeway that he put his hand on hers.
"You look really great, baby," he said, "but I still like you better blonde. You got everything you want?"
"Yes. I spent over a hundred dollars, Johnny."
"Okay, okay," he said and again pressed her hand.
"Oh, Johnny, I was scared . . . I began to wonder . . ."
"We're both scared, but it could work out. It's worth a try, isn't it?"
She thought of all that money: $186,000!
"Yes."
They sat in silence for some minutes, then Johnny said, "Look, baby, I want you to know your position. I know this is a bit late in the day, but I have it on my mind. There's still time for you to opt out . . . at least I think so. Maybe we've left it too late, but maybe, you still have a chance of opting out."
She stared at him, her eyes widening.
"I don't know what you're saying."
"I keep thinking about it," Johnny said. "I keep asking myself if I should drag you into this. Sooner or later they will catch up with me. When the Mafia sign goes up, you're as good as dead. I mean this, but with luck, if I get the money, if I can buy my boat I'll settle for twelve months. I could be more than lucky and it might be three years . . . but no more. Who goes with me also gets the sign. They may not bother with you right now, but if they find out we are together when they catch up with me . . . and they will eventually . . . then it'll be the end of your days as it will be the end of mine."
She shivered.
"I don't want to hear this, Johnny. Please . . ."
"You've got to hear it. There's a chance. We could survive three years. We'd be beating the odds if we survive longer, but sooner or later, they'll get me and, baby, please think about what I'm saying. Don't imagine if they get me they'll forget you. They don't work like that. They'll come after you. You could hide, but sooner or later there'll come a knock on your door and it'll be them. I want you with me, but I want you to realize the risk. Think about it. We stand a chance, but not for long. If I get the money, I'll fix it you get a big cut. This I promise you so you don't have to worry about losing out. In half an hour we'll get to Jacksonville. You could get off there and get lost. They could forget about you while hunting for me. You have some money now. You know how to take care of yourself. I hate to say it, but I feel it in my bones for your safety you should get off at Jacksonville."
She closed her eyes, feeling the jogging motion of the bus and she tried to think, but nothing came into her mind except that immense sum of money: $186,000!
Three years of life?
With all that money she could have a ball of a time!
So suppose they caught up with them as Johnny seemed to think they would? So 'suppose they walked in and shot them to death as Johnny had shot those two apes to death?
What was death anyway? She tried to believe it as an escape.
But three years with $186,000 . . . that would be living!
She sat there, her eyes closed and reviewed her own life. What a stinking, hell of a life! Her dreary home, her dreary parents, the gruesome men in and out of her life, Ed and the boredom!
But at the back of her mind was the fear of the moment when a knock could come on the door. She forced the fear away and opened her eyes. Somehow she managed to smile.
"You and me, Johnny, together. I don't opt out."
The bus roared north and they sat, hand in hand, silent now, but both knowing whatever the future, they could now trust each other.
Sammy the Black rolled out of bed around 07.30. Feeling depressed and half asleep, he went into the shower room. Fifteen minutes later he emerged, shaved and showered and started the coffee perculator.
He had a number of reasons for feeling depressed, but the main reason which had kept him awake half the night was that Cloe had got herself pregnant again. How the hell this could have happened defeated Sammy. She swore she was on the pill, and now she was yelling for a quick abortion . . . and that cost! They had had a distressing meeting last night. She demanded $300!
"I'm not having any of your bastards!" she had shrilled. "Come on . . . give me the money!"
But he had no money. Johnny had taken all his savings. He didn't tell her this, but he did say he had no $300.
She had stared at him, her big, black eyes glittering.
"Okay, if you haven't the bread, I'll look elsewhere. Jacko wants me and he'll pay."
Sammy had regarded her: lush, tall, with a body like a goddess, and his heart quailed. He couldn't lose her! He knew Jacko: a big, black buck who was always on the fringe of her life, waiting.
"Give me a little time, honey," he pleaded. "I'll get the money somehow."
"I'll give you six days . . . no more!"
That was one problem: then his goddamn brother was again in trouble. Sammy's mother had come to him. Only a matter of $150. "You can't let your brother go to jail!"
Sammy had promised to do' something . . . but what?
Then his job as Mr. Joe's chauffeur. Driving a Rolls had sounded fine. The grey uniform with its black piping had made Sammy proud and happy, but he quickly learned this was a job without a song. He was on constant call. After he had driven Mr. Joe to his office, he had to rush back up town to take Mrs. Joe shopping and, man! was she a bitch! She always seemed to want to go to some shop where parking was impossible and he had to circle and circle, getting snarled up in the traffic, and if he kept her waiting did she curse him and could she curse! Sammy thought wistfully of those days when he had collected the Numbers money with Johnny. He had been scared, but being scared was better than this rat-race. Then in the evening Mr. and Mrs. Joe went to nightclubs and he had to sit in the car until after 02.00 waiting for them. He had to keep the car immaculate or Mrs. Joe would curse him. What a mug he had been to take this job!
Wearily, he got into his uniform. He had to pick up Mr. Joe at nine. It took him a good half hour to drive up town against the traffic. As he was sipping his coffee, his telephone bell rang. He winced. This could be Cloe, screaming at him again. He hesitated, then lifted the receiver as if it were a ticking bomb.
"Sammy?"
A rush of cold blood went down his spine and he began to shake. This was too much!
Johnny!
"Yeah . . . this is me," Sammy said huskily.
"Listen, Sammy, I want you to go to the Greyhound bus station and take a look around. I want to know if it's still staked out."
"Mr. Johnny . . . I can't! I've got enough troubles. You took my money. Cloe is in trouble again. My brother is in trouble again. Everyone is yelling me!" Sammy was close to tears. "Please leave me alone."
"This is important, Sammy!" Johnny's voice was hard. "You've got to do it! You do it and I promise you I'll give you back your money plus another three thousand dollars I promise you!"
Sammy stiffened.
"You really mean that, Mr. Johnny?"
"Have I ever let you down? You check the bus station and if it's clear, you'll get six thousand . . . that's a promise."
Sammy hesitated.
"But suppose it ain't clear?"
"Then you keep on checking and as soon as it's clear, you'll get the money."
Again Sammy hesitated. Six thousand dollars! Cloe would get her abortion! His goddamn brother would be in the clear and he'd have money back in his steel box!
"Okay, Mr. Johnny, I'll do it."
"I'll call you this time tomorrow," and Johnny hung up.
Sammy was shaking with fear, but if he could get hold of six thousand dollars all his troubles would be over! And when Mr. Johnny made a promise, it was a promise.
Putting on his peak cap, he left his apartment and walked fast to the garage. Why was Mr. Johnny so anxious to know if the bus station was being watched? Sammy cringed. It could mean only one thing, but he refused to let his mind dwell on it.
He drove Massino to his office.
"Get home pronto," Massino said. "Mrs. Massino has shopping to do. We'll be going out tonight. She'll tell you about it." He paused to look at Sammy, seeing his grey complexion and the sweat glistening on his face. "What's the matter with you?"
"Nothing, boss," Sammy said, cringing. "I'm fine, boss."
Massino grunted, then strode across the sidewalk into his office building.
Sammy looked across at the Greyhound station, then after a long hesitation, he got out of the Rolls.
As Massino entered his office, he found Andy standing at the window.
"Let's get at it," Massino barked. "Have you got . . .?" He stopped as Andy raised his hand, then beckoned to him. Frowning, Massino joined him at the window. He saw Sammy crossing the street, look furtively right and left, hesitate, then enter the bus station.
"What's that big bastard doing?" Massino growled. "I told him to get back right away to my wife."
"Watch it," Andy said quietly.
There was a long delay, then Sammy came out of the bus station, again looked furtively to right and left, then he crossed the street, got in the Rolls and drove away.
"So what?" Massino demanded.
He could see by Andy's expression that he had just seen something he didn't understand but Andy did.
"He looked like a dip, didn't he?" Andy said. "He was scared."
"That's right. I asked him what was the matter. He was sweating like a pig . . . so what?"
Andy sat down by Massino's desk.
"All along I've thought Bianda wasn't working alone. I was sure someone helped him steal the money. I thought it was Fuselli. I never thought of Sammy." Massino grew still, his eyes glittering.
"Bianda has worked with Sammy for years," Andy went on. "When you start to think about it, it slicks out like a boil. It's my bet Sammy is in contact with Bianda. The money's over there, Mr. Joe, in one of those lockers and Sammy is checking to see if we're still covering the lockers. That's my reading. Bianda had to have someone to work with . . . it's my bet Sammy rushed the two bags over to the locker while Bianda rushed back to establish his alibi."
Massino sat down, his face congested with rage.
"Get Ernie and Toni to pick up that sonofabitch and bring him here. I'll talk to him! I'll smash him to a pulp!"
"No," Andy said quietly. "We want Bianda and the money. So we set a trap. This afternoon, you and me will take a drive uptown and with Sammy listening you'll tell me you've heard from Luigi that Bianda is now in Havana and you've kissed the money goodbye. We then call off the boys watching the lockers so when Sammy checks again he finds the coast clear. He'll tell Bianda and he'll come back." Andy stared at Massino. "All we need is Toni sitting up here with a target rifle and a silencer."
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