What's Better Than Money (13 page)

The fat Italian came out of the inner room. She spoke to him. I couldn’t hear what she was saying. She gave him some money. He grinned at her, nodding, then went back into the inner room.

She came back to me.

“I’m leaving now. You won’t see me again unless you try something smart. You will send a cheque sometimes this week for the ten thousand dollars to the Los Angeles bank. On the first of the month you will send another cheque for ten thousand. The following month you will send me a cheque for thirty thousand. The month after that, another cheque for ten thousand. Have you got that?”

“Yes,” I said, thinking if she was leaving now I must follow her. I was sure if I lost her now, I would never find her again. “But don’t imagine it’s going to be all that easy.”

“Isn’t it?”

The fat Italian, followed by two hard looking characters, came out of the inner room and grouped themselves in front of the entrance to the hotel.

I was on my feet now.

“I’ve asked these boys to keep you here until I drop out of sight,” Rima said. “I wouldn’t start anything with them. They’re tough.”

The two men with the fat Italian were both young and strong looking. One of them, with a lot of blond limp hair, wore a leather jacket and had leather patches on the knees of his trousers. The other, with a brutal hammered face of an ex-boxer, was in a filthy white shirt, the sleeves rolled up and a pair of jeans.

“So long,” Rima said to me. “Don’t forget our little arrangement or we’ll be meeting again in a place you won’t like.”

She picked up a battered suitcase that was standing, out of sight, behind her chair and walked across the lobby.

I remained motionless.

The three men stared at me, also motionless.

Rima went out of the hotel, and I saw her walk briskly down the steps and away into the darkness.

After a moment or so, the blond tough said, “Should we rough this mug up a little, Battler? Work him over a little?”

The other snorted through his broken nose.

“Why not? I ain’t had any exercise for weeks.”

The fat Italian said sharply, “None of that stuff. He stays here for five minutes, then he goes. No one touches him.”

The blond tough spat on the floor.

“You’re the boss.”

We all stood there while the minutes ticked away. After what seemed a lot longer than five minutes, the fat Italian said, “Come on. Let’s get back to the game.”

The three of them slouched back into the inner room, leaving me alone with the old negro.

He stared at me, rubbing the back of his head with a large, black hand.

“I guess you’re leading a charmed life, mister,” he said. “Those guys are mean.”

I went out into the night and got into my car.

II

As I drove across the City towards my home, my mind was active.

There seemed no way out of this trap. It would be impossible to find Rima again now. She could continue to blackmail me in safety and out of my reach. I would have to give her all the money I would earn from the bridge job and then more. I knew she would continue to blackmail me for the rest of her days.

I realised that Terrell’s cottage was now just a pipe dream. How was I going to explain this to Sarita?

It was the thought of Sarita that stiffened my back bone. I slowed the car and pulled up at the kerb.

I couldn’t take this lying down, I told myself, and a hot wave of rage ran through me. I must find a way out.

For several minutes I sat staring through the windshield at the mass of traffic moving ahead of me, trying to calm my jumping nerves. Finally, I did get control of myself and I was able to think more coolly.

Rima had given me the address of a Los Angeles bank. Did this mean that she was leaving Holland City for Los Angeles or was it just a trick to throw me off her trail?

I had to find her again. It was my only hope of survival. I had to find her and then silence her.

I started the car moving and drove fast to the Ritz-Plaza hotel, a couple of blocks ahead. Leaving the car outside, I went in and made my way to the Travel Bureau.

The girl in charge smiled brightly at me.

“Yes, sir?”

“Is there a ‘plane out to Los Angeles tonight?”

“Not now, sir. The first plane out would be ten twenty-five tomorrow morning.”

“How about a train?”

She picked up a time-table, flicked through the pages, then nodded.

“There’s a train at eleven forty. If you hurry, you could catch it.”

I thanked her and went back to my car.

I drove fast to the railroad station, parked and walked to the Information Bureau. The time was now half past eleven. They told me the Los Angeles train was due in at Platform 3.

Moving cautiously, and looking out for Rima, I went to Platform 3. I stopped by the news-stand near the entrance to the platform. The gates were still closed. There was a group of people waiting. There was no sign of Rima. I waited, keeping out of sight until the gates were opened. After a ten-minute wait I watched the train pull out. I was sure Rima wasn’t on board.

I walked back to my car. It had been a shot in the dark, and it hadn’t come off. Tomorrow would be hopeless. I couldn’t cover both the airport and the railroad station. Anyway, it was more possible that she had given me the Los Angeles bank address to throw me off her trail. She could be planning to settle anywhere. My cheque would go to the Los Angeles bank, and they would send it on to any town in the country. It seemed an impossible task to find her.

I got in my car and drove home. As I walked from the elevator to my apartment I glanced at my wrist watch. The time was five minutes after midnight. With any luck, Sarita would be in bed. I was in such a depressed, angry mood I didn’t want to talk to her tonight.

But my luck was out, as I opened the front door I saw the light was on in the lounge.

“Jeff?”

Sarita came to the door as I took off my raincoat.

“Hello, darling,” I said. “I thought you would be in bed.”

“I’ve been waiting up for you. I thought you would never come.” The note in her voice made me look sharply at her. I could see she was excited about something. “Do you want anything to eat?”

Although I had had no dinner, the thought of food sickened me.

“I’ve had all I want, thanks. What’s the excitement about?”

She linked her arm in mine and drew me into the lounge.

“Mr. Terrell telephoned a couple of hours ago. He wants an immediate decision. He has had an offer for the cottage. It’s ten thousand more than he asked us. He’s so kind. He said he would like us to have it and he is offering it to us at the original price, but we must let him know right away.”

I moved from her and sat down.

Well, here it was. I was in it up to my neck before I had time to recover from the first body blow.

“He said he would give me a week,” I said, taking out my cigarette case and lighting a cigarette.

“Yes, darling, I know he did, but this offer has just come in,” Sarita said, sitting opposite me. “We can’t expect him to lose ten thousand just for a couple of days. Anyway, why should we keep him waiting? We’re going to have the place, aren’t we? There’s nothing else anything like as good, and it really is a bargain.”

“Well, no,” I said, not looking at her. “I don’t think I’m going ahead with it, Sarita. I’ve been thinking it over. A home is a pretty permanent thing. I am going to spend my life in this City. Terrell’s place is nice, of course, but I think the best thing to do is to hang on here for a year or so and then build a place. By then, I shall know for certain what my financial position will be. With any luck, we should be pretty well off. We might even be able to plan something a lot nicer than the bungalow. It’s better to build. As soon as I’ve fixed the bridge, I’ll get out a plan. We can work at it together. We’ll have absolutely what we want.”

I saw her stiffen and I could see her disappointment.

“But, Jeff dear, at this price the bungalow is a bargain. Instead of remaining in this dreary apartment for another year, we can move into the cottage, take our time about building, and when the place has been built, we can sell the cottage at a profit.”

“I see that,” I said, trying to control my jumping nerves. “But I’d rather wait. I think we’ll forget about the cottage.”

“Please, Jeff.” It hurt me and made me mad to see how upset she was. “I love the place. Please change your mind. If we buy, we don’t pay rent. We will save that. It’s investing your money sensibly, and I really don’t want to stay here another year.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, “but I’m not buying Terrell’s place. Let’s skip it, shall we? I’m tired, and I’m ready for bed.”

“But, Jeff, you can’t just dismiss it like that. It’s important to both of us. We have the money. You agreed it was just what we want. We can’t go on living here. You’ll have to entertain more. We can’t have people here. A man in your position must have a nice home.”

“Let’s skip it, Sarita. I know what I’m doing.”

For a long moment she stared at me, then she said, “Well, of course, if that’s the way you feel. . . all right. You really want us to remain here?”

“Until we build.”

“Then perhaps we could refurnish the place: at least let us try to make it look something better than this.”

“We’ll talk about that later.” I got to my feet. “Let’s go to bed. Look at the time: it’s pushing one o’clock.”

“Mr. Terrell is waiting, Jeff. He wants to know tonight.”

This was more than my nerves could take.

“Well, tell him then! Tell him I’ve changed my mind,” and I went out of the lounge and into the bedroom.

I was angry and sick with frustration. As I began to undress, I heard Sarita talking on the telephone.

I was under the shower when she came into the bedroom. After I had put on my pyjamas, I joined her in the bedroom. I got into bed and lit a cigarette.

She went into the bathroom and shut the door. This was the first time since we had married that she had shut the door while preparing for bed and its significance wasn’t lost on me.

I suddenly had to know the exact amount of money I had in the bank. I got out of bed, went into the lounge and got out my bank statement. A quick calculation showed that I had a little less than two thousand dollars in cash and ten thousand in bonds. I wouldn’t be getting my share of the bridge fee for another eight days.

We had been spending my small capital pretty briskly since I had landed the bridge contract. There had been clothes to buy. I had given Sarita a diamond brooch. I had had new tyres fitted to the car. I would have to part with my bonds to Rima. That left me with two thousand for eight days, plus a lot of bills.

I returned to the bedroom.

Sarita was already in bed, her back to my bed.

I got into bed and turned off the light.

“Good night darling,” I said.

“Good night.”

Her voice was flat and impersonal.

“I’m sorry, Sarita. Really sorry, but you must believe I know what I’m doing,” I said. “You won’t regret it in the long run. Try not to be too disappointed.”

“I don’t want to discuss it any more. Good night.”

There was silence.

I lay there staring into the darkness, feeling pretty bad. After a while I switched my mind to what I was going to do. If I were to save our future, I had to find a way out of this mess.

There were three obvious things I had to do: find Rima, find the gun and get rid of it, then silence Rima.

But how was I going to find her?

Tomorrow I would have to send a cheque for ten thousand dollars to the Los Angeles bank. As far as I could see, the only possible way to trace Rima was through this bank. Obviously, they wouldn’t give me her address, but was it possible to trick it out of them in some way?

I thought about this for some time, but finally decided it was a hopeless line of thought. Somewhere in the bank they would have a record of Rima’s other bank and her signed instructions to credit any sum paid to them into this bank. Was it possible for me to get at this record?

How did one get at the records held by a bank, short of break in at night? That would be completely beyond my powers. To break into a bank was a professional job, and besides, the risk of being caught was almost a sure thing.

After more thought, I decided it was impossible to make any plan until I had seen the bank. This meant a trip to Los Angeles.

I thought of all the work piled up on my desk and the appointments I had lined up for tomorrow and I cursed Rima. But my work would have to be shelved. If I was going to find her I would have to act at once.

I would have to take the ten-thirty plane tomorrow morning. Jack would have to handle the urgent appointments. What he would say I couldn’t imagine, but I had to move fast. There was a slight chance that Rima would be going to Los Angeles and a slighter chance that I might spot her.

I would have to part with the first ten thousand dollars. I then had three clear weeks ahead of me before I had to pay the second instalment. In that time I had to find and silence her.

CHAPTER THREE

I

I got to the office before eight o’clock and I was in a pretty depressed mood.

Sarita had been quiet during breakfast. We had said little to each other. Nothing was said about the bungalow, but it was there, between us like a ten-foot wall.

When I looked at my desk and saw all the paper work piled in my In-tray, my heart sank. By going to Los Angeles, I would be throwing a hopeless burden on Jack. I knew he was pretty booked up this morning with appointments with contractors at the site of the bridge.

I slaved for an hour, getting some of the urgent paper work out of the way, then the door jerked open and Jack breezed in.

“Hi, Jeff!” he said, going over to his desk. “I’ve got four bulldozers on the job. They are beginning to clear the site right now. I’ve started them, now I’ve got to see Cooper about those concrete mixers. Any mail in yet?”

“Not yet.” I hesitated, then blurted out, “Look, Jack, I’ve got to take a couple of days off.”