1972 - You're Dead Without Money

by James Hadley Chase

  Vin looked contemptuously at the old man.

  ‘Okay, then pull out. Elliot and I can swing it without either you or Cindy. So, okay . . . go back to your small time if that’s the way you want it.’

  Cindy leaned forward, her eyes sparkling.

  ‘It’s not the way I want it!’ she said. ‘I’m sick of small time.’ She looked at Joey. ‘Okay, dad, if you want to pull out I won’t try to persuade you but I’m staying in!’

  Joey stared helplessly at her, then he lifted his hands in despair.

  ‘Now, listen, baby . . .’

  ‘I’m staying in! That’s final!’

  Joey looked at Elliot.

  ‘Well, Mr. Elliot, so we stay in, but how can we help? I don’t see how we come into this.’

  ‘That’s where the wonder boy earns his cut,’ Vin said. ‘I can fix the alarms and get the stamps if I know where they are. That’s my job and I can do it. Elliot has to dream up an idea of getting the register from Larrimore. If he can’t use you two, you’re out anyway. This take is strictly for workers.’

  Cindy looked hopefully at Elliot.

  ‘We know Larrimore carries the register around in his inside jacket pocket,’ Elliot said after a moment’s thought. ‘At night the register is locked in a safe in his bedroom.’ He looked at Vin. ‘Right?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Joey . . . do you think you could steal the register off Larrimore if you got close to him?’

  Joey didn’t hesitate.

  ‘Yes . . . that’s no problem.’

  ‘Suppose we have a demonstration.’ Elliot got to his feet and went into the bungalow. From the bookcase he took a paperback and put it in his inside jacket pocket, then he came back into the garden.

  ‘I have a book in my jacket pocket, Joey. Let’s see you get it.’

  Cindy was on her feet and moving by Elliot she appeared to stumble and lurched against him.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘My foot slipped. Go on, dad, show him.’

  Joey grinned uneasily.

  ‘It’s gone, hasn’t it, Mr. Elliot?’

  Cindy was holding the paperback in her hand.

  ‘Impressive,’ Elliot said. ‘Okay, I’ll think about it.’

  Leaving them, he went to his bedroom and lay on the bed.

  He lay thinking, staring up at the ceiling for the next hour.

  Then when Cindy called that lunch was ready, he got up and joined the other three in the small dining room.

  ‘Got an idea, buster?’ Vin asked as he cut into the steak on his plate.

  ‘The problem is to get to Larrimore,’ Elliot said. ‘He only goes out in his car. He doesn’t receive visitors, but I have an idea that might work.’ He looked at Cindy. ‘You would have to handle it. After seeing your demonstration I think you could do it. Here’s the idea: Larrimore gets a letter telling him the undersigned - that’s you, Cindy - has inherited a collection of stamps left to you by your grandfather. You have heard dealers offer little or nothing for valuable stamps. You have no idea if the collection is valuable or not. You are asking him as you have heard he is a famous philatelist, if he would look at the stamps and if there are any of interest to advise you. I think that is the kind of bait Larrimore might rise to. You’ll say your grandfather started the collection when he was young. That might make Larrimore think there could be a few valuable stamps in the album. He might invite you to call on him. If he does, then it is up to you to get the register off him. We know the stamps are indexed under countries. If you get hold of the register and while he is examining your stamps, find the CCCP section, you could be lucky to find the number of the drawer which contains the eight stamps we want. This is a long shot but it might come off. What do you think?’

  ‘That’s bright,’ Vin said, annoyed he hadn’t thought of this himself. ‘It could work.’

  ‘I’ll do it,’ Joey said. ‘I don’t want Cindy to do it.’

  Elliot shook his head.

  ‘I’m sorry, Joey, but Cindy must do it. With her looks, she would throw Larrimore off his guard. A young girl coming to him for advice will flatter him.’ He looked at Cindy. ‘Shall we try?’

  Cindy nodded.

  ‘Okay. I’ll draft a letter for you to write.’ Elliot looked over at Joey. ‘Will you go down to the waterfront and take a look at the junk shops there? I’m sure you’ll find an old stamp album full of trash that you can pick up for a few dollars. The older it looks the better. Then go to one of the better stamp dealers and buy three or four good stamps. They must be around 1900, not more recent. Tell the dealer you want to give them as a gift and you know nothing about stamps. Pay up to four hundred dollars. We’ve got to make this album a little interesting or Larrimore might get suspicious.’

  Joey nodded.

  Elliot finished his steak and pushed his plate away.

  ‘Now you, Vin . . . how are you finding out who the buyer is?’

  Vin’s eyes shifted.

  ‘You can leave that to me. I’ll find out.’

  ‘That’s not good enough. We’re working together as a team. We want to know. How are you finding out?’

  Vin thought quickly. He realized that without Cindy, he wouldn’t get the register. He had to be careful not to alert Elliot’s suspicions that he planned a double-cross.

  ‘Judy Larrimore knows who he is.’

  Elliot cut himself a slice of cheese, then pushed the cheese plate over to Vin.

  ‘How did she find out?’

  ‘She read a letter she found on her old man’s desk.’

  ‘Why hasn’t she told you who the buyer is?’

  Vin felt a trickle of sweat run down his face.

  ‘She’ll tell me. I’ve got to soften her up a little.’

  ‘And how do you do that, Vin?’

  Elliot’s probing eyes made Vin look away.

  ‘I’ll fix it . . . leave it to me.’

  ‘Sorry, Vin, you’re not convincing,’ Elliot said. ‘Let’s get this straight. We’ve just made a deal . . . remember? We four are now partners. You’re holding something back. I want to know what it is. I want to know more about this babe who, you tell me, eats out of your hand.’

  Vin shifted in his chair.

  ‘She wants money, but I’ll pay her off . . . I’ll do that out of my share. For a grand she’ll give me the name of the buyer. That’s all there’s to it.’

  ‘Then why didn’t you say so before?’

  ‘It’s a deal I did with her. Why should I bother you with that for God’s sake?’

  ‘So you’ve told her you are planning to steal the stamps?’

  Vin took out his handkerchief and wiped his face. He saw Joey and Cindy were staring at him and there was suspicion in their eyes.

  ‘So what? Look . . . this babe hates her old man. She couldn’t care less what happens to his stamps.’

  ‘But she knows you are planning to steal the stamps?’

  ‘What if she does?’

  ‘You ask yourself that one, Vin.’ Elliot got to his feet. ‘I’ll get that letter drafted, Cindy.’ Turning to Joey, he went on, ‘Will you take care of the stamp album?’

  The three left the room.

  Vin hacked a slice of bread from the loaf and cut himself another piece of cheese.

  ‘I’ll have to watch this sonofabitch,’ he told himself. ‘He’s going to be tricky.’

  * * *

  Jack Lessing returned to his office. Holtz had given him an ultimatum: find Elliot or lose the Radnitz account and since the account was worth many thousands a year to Lessing and since his ten men had still found no trace of Elliot, he was more than worried.

  ‘Try everything,’ Holtz had said. ‘He’s got to be found and found fast! We know he is in the City. We know he might try to contact Paul Larrimore, the philatelist. As he owes money everywhere you won’t find him in his usual haunts. He must have holed up somewhere. Check every small hotel, even the rooming houses. Look out for his Alfa: you’ve got the licence number. He’s got
to be found.’

  Lessing put another twenty men, drawn in from Miami and Jacksonville with instructions to check the hotels and fast, then he sent for Harry Orson and Fay Macklin, two of his top investigators. He told them the problem.

  Orson, a powerfully built man in his late thirties, was noted for his patience and bulldog determination. Nondescript to look at, shrewd and an easy mixer, he was the ideal man hunter.

  Fay Macklin, mousey looking, small, around thirty-five years of age, had a talent for being in a place and never being noticed.

  ‘Elliot is thought to be trying to contact Paul Larrimore . . . just why, Holtz didn’t say,’ Lessing said. He pushed a folder across his desk. ‘That will give you all the dope about Larrimore. He seems our best bet. Quite close to his house is an empty villa. I’ve fixed it for you two to get in there and watch his place. I want the dope on everyone who visits Larrimore. Elliot, being a movie star, may try to play it smart. He might arrive in disguise. So check out everyone who calls on Larrimore. You will have two operators to help you. I want you to watch and alert them when someone calls.’

  An hour later, Orson and Macklin were installed in an empty upper room of the villa which offered an uninterrupted view of the gates, the garden and the front door of Larrimore’s house. They settled down to an alternate watch, equipped with powerful field glasses, a transceiver, campstools and a hamper of food. Their wait was long and uneventful, but they were used to long, uneventful waits and that was why Lessing had picked them to watch Larrimore’s house. At the end of the road, in a parking lot, two investigators in their cars sat waiting.

  Twice during the long day they were alerted to check trucks that had arrived at Larrimore’s house but the report was negative: just a delivery of food. Then around midday, Orson saw Judy come out of the house, get into her beat-up Austin Cooper and drive down to the gates. He immediately alerted one of the waiting investigators who caught up with Judy as she waited for a change of traffic lights.

  ‘The girl’s Larrimore’s daughter,’ Orson told the investigator over the transceiver. ‘Stick with her, Fred. I’ll get Alec to replace you later.’

  ‘Okay and out,’ Fred Nisson said.

  Half an hour later, Nisson radioed in that Judy was at the Plaza Beach surrounded by longhaired freaks. What was he to do?

  ‘Stick with her,’ Orson said. ‘Keep reporting in.’

  At 15.00 Orson called Lessing. So far the operation was negative. No sign of Elliot. Every caller - and there had only been three of them - had been checked out. Nisson was watching the daughter who seemed settled to spend the day at the Plaza Beach.

  Lessing cursed, told Orson he would send a relief for Nisson and then reported to Holtz.

  * * *

  Barney paused here to marshal his thoughts. He reached for the last sausage on the plate, regarded it thoughtfully before conveying it to his mouth.

  ‘These sausages are enough to wake up a dead man,’ he said. ‘You don’t know what you’re missing,’

  I said I believed in letting the dead lie in peace.

  ‘Yeah.’ Barney took a swig of beer, pushed away the empty plate, heaved a sigh and settled down to talk again.

  ‘Joey picked up a battered looking stamp album full of junk but he got four good stamps from a dealer that cost four hundred dollars. These Elliot put in the album. Elliot got Cindy to rewrite the letter to Larrimore he had drafted and that was sent off. There was nothing else for them to do but wait.

  ‘But Vin had things to do. He had a date with Judy the following evening. He had a lot of thinking to do and as thinking wasn’t his strong point, he worried.

  ‘Until he was sure that Cindy’s part of the operation succeeded, he couldn’t make plans. But if Cindy did manage to find out in which drawer the stamps were then he would have to think fast and thinking fast always bothered Vin.

  ‘He had a suspicion that Elliot was on to him. He also had a suspicion that unless he watched Judy closely, she could double-cross him. Vin wasn’t geared for this kind of set-up and he knew it, but he was determined to get his hands on a million dollars.

  ‘Elliot told them they couldn’t expect an answer - if they were going to get an answer - from Larrimore for at least a week. They must try to relax and be patient.

  ‘This was something Vin couldn’t do in his present mood and he drove off in the Jaguar to explore the country, look in at a bar or two and take a swim.

  ‘Cindy and he had had a talk. This was something he was expecting. Her no-wedding-bells-and-I’m-sorry-Vin line left him cold. He grinned at her and shrugged. ‘Okay, baby, if that’s the way you want it,’ he said. ‘Maybe you’re right. You stick to your old man. That way you won’t get pregnant.’ That was the way Vin talked: no consideration for women.’ Barney grimaced. ‘I always say a woman should be shown consideration, Mr. Campbell . . . right?’

  I said it was an accepted thing but there were women and women.

  Barney let that one go with the breeze.

  ‘So in the evening, Cindy found herself alone with Elliot. Joey was a TV addict and he was indoors, glued to the goggle box. Cindy and Elliot were sitting in the back garden with a big yellow moon looking down on them, the smell of jasmine in the air and the distant sound of an owl to make the set-up pretty romantic.

  ‘Elliot had discovered something about Cindy he hadn’t found in any of the girls he had previously known. There was a restfulness about her that made her company easy. He felt he didn’t have to keep talking to keep her interest. She didn’t have to keep talking to keep his interest: just to sit with her in silence pleased him. This hadn’t happened to him before.

  * * *

  ‘Cindy . . . about Vin,’ he said suddenly. ‘You told me you two were planning to get married.’

  ‘Yes.’ Cindy looked up at the moon. ‘But not now. I’ve changed my mind. I’ve told Vin . . . I think he’s glad.’

  ‘And you?’

  ‘Yes, I’m glad.’ She shrugged. ‘He seemed so glamorous and so confident . . . I had never met anyone quite like him. But now . . .’

  ‘Do you trust him, Cindy?’

  She stiffened and looked quickly at him.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You see, Cindy, all this is something new to me . . . this four handed partnership. I feel I can trust your father and you, but not Vin. I may be wrong, but that’s the way I feel right now.’

  ‘Dad and I have talked about it . . . yes, we feel like you . . . we don’t trust him, but without him we can’t work this, can we?’

  ‘Without us, he can’t work it either.’

  Cindy nodded.

  ‘Dad said for me not to worry . . . he said you would take care of Vin.’

  ‘That’s touching.’ Elliot reached out and took her hand. ‘Well, we’ll see. This money means a lot to you two, doesn’t it?’

  Cindy’s heart was now beating so fast she could scarcely breathe. The casual touch of Elliot’s hand turned her mind upside down.

  ‘I don’t know . . . Dad will arrange something.’ She pulled free and got to her feet. ‘I’d better see what he is doing . . . he doesn’t like being left alone for long.’

  ‘Cindy!’

  She paused, looking down at him, her face flushed. He smiled up at her.

  ‘Let’s forget him . . . let’s forget everything . . . let’s go for a swim.’ He looked intently at her. ‘I want to show you my tin foot.’

  Six

  At 21.00 Orson got his first encouraging lead. He was at the window overlooking Larrimore’s house and was munching a sandwich when he saw a blue Jaguar pull up outside the Larrimore gates. The light was beginning to fade and wasn’t good enough for him to get a good look at the driver.

  For the past two days, he and Fay had kept watch but the operation still had remained negative. Lessing’s other men were now checking the smaller rooming houses in the City. So far they had drawn blank. Holtz had been alerted. In his turn, he had alerted Radnitz.

&nbs
p; ‘He’s got to be found,’ Radnitz had said. ‘This is your responsibility,’ and knowing he could rely on Holtz to achieve the impossible, he dismissed Elliot from his mind.

  Orson, tireless and patient, waited. Now this car had pulled up and he stiffened to attention.

  ‘Here’s something,’ he said, putting down his sandwich.

  Fay joined him at the window and they both examined the car through their field glasses.

  ‘New York plates,’ Fay said. ‘It can’t be Elliot.’

  ‘Look who’s here . . . the girl,’ Orson said. He had spotted Judy running down the drive. ‘Alert Fred!’

  While Fay was speaking to Nisson on the transceiver, Orson watched Judy get into the Jaguar. There was a moment’s pause, then the car drove off, heading towards the centre of the City.

  Orson was relieved to see Nisson’s Chevy appear and follow the Jaguar.

  * * *

  ‘Well, how’s Superman?’ Judy asked as she settled herself beside Vin. ‘What’s the programme for tonight?’

  He glanced at her. She was wearing a red mini skirt, a yellow see-through blouse, yellow tights and slippers. He thought she looked pretty good and he said so.

  ‘Low-Life Club,’ he told her. ‘Let’s turn it on there and then we’ll go back to that beach you took me to last time.’

  ‘Oh no, we don’t! If you’re thinking of screwing me on sand you have another thing coming. If you plan to get laid, we’ll go to the motel.’

  Vin laughed.

  ‘Okay. What have you been doing with yourself?’

  She grimaced.

  ‘The usual. I’m sick of the way I’m living! Time’s running out. In another two years I’ll be twenty! I’ve got to get some money!’

  ‘I’m not stopping you. Thought any more about those stamps?’

  ‘Yes . . . have you?’

  ‘Sure. I think we can swing it, but let’s not talk now. Let’s have a drink, eat and then we’ll go to the Blue Heaven and make a night of it.’

  After an excellent meal, they danced for an hour or so, then Vin said, ‘Come on . . . let’s go.’