Strictly For Cash Part 3

Della held the car in the middle of the road. The speedometer showed seventy-six now: too fast on a road like this.

aWatch out! Car ahead!a I exclaimed as I spotted the distant glare of approaching headlights.

Della dipped her lights and her foot eased off the accelerator.

The approaching car was coming like a bat out of h.e.l.l. It flashed into view. I heard a high, squealing sound of tyres biting into tarmac behind us, and looking round saw the Cadillac was stopping. I felt the Bentley swerve to the right. I swung round. The car coming towards us sat right in the middle of the road, and its huge blinding lights. .h.i.t us as it roared down on us.

Della pulled more to the right. The offside wheels banged and b.u.mped along the gra.s.s verge. I saw her struggling frantically with the wheel, trying to keep the car straight.

The driver of the approaching car just didn't seem to see us. I heard Paul yell.

The car was on us now. It sideswiped us as it went past. Della screamed. There came a crunching, ripping noise. The car that had hit us slewed across the road, then crashed into the thickets. I grabbed hold of the dashboard as I felt the Bentley lift. The winds.h.i.+eld suddenly turned into a spider's web of cracks and lines. There was a grinding noise of splintering wood, then a h.e.l.l of a jolt, and a scorching white light burst before my eyes. Above the grinding, tearing sounds, I heard Della scream again, then the white light snuffed out and darkness came down on me.

PART TWO.

FOG PATCH.

chapter eight.

The smell of iodoform and ether told me I was in hospital. I made an effort and rolled back eyelids that weighed a ton. A tall, thin guy in a white coat was standing over me. Behind him I could see a fat nurse. There was a bored, hara.s.sed expression on her face.

aHow do you feel?a the thin guy asked, leaning over me. aDo you feel better?a He seemed so anxious I hadn't the heart to tell him I felt like h.e.l.l. I screwed up a grin and closed my eyes.

Lights flickered behind my eyelids. I felt myself swimming off into misty darkness. I let myself go. Why bother? I thought, you can only die once.

The darkness crept down on me. Time stood still. I slipped off the edge of the world into mists, fog and silence.

It seemed to me I was down in the darkness for a very long time, but after a while lights began to flicker again and I became aware of the bed in which I was lying and the tightness of the sheets. A little later I became aware of the screens. There were tall white screens around the bed, and they worried me. I seemed to remember they only put screens around a bed when the patient was going to croak.

I also became aware that a thickset man was sitting beside me. His hat rested on the back of his head, and he chewed a toothpick, a bored, tired expression on his fleshy, unshaven face. He had copper written all over him.

After a while he noticed my eyes were open, and he s.h.i.+fted forward to peer at me.

aI wouldn't win a dime with a double-headed coin,a he said in disgust. aTalk about luck! So you have to come to the surface just when I'm signing off.a A nurse appeared from behind the screen. She also peered at me: not the fat nurse. This one was blonde and pretty.

ah.e.l.lo,a I said, and my voice sounded miles away.

aYou mustn't talk,a she said severely. aJust lie still and try to sleep.a aSleep a" h.e.l.l!a the copper said. aHe's gotta talk. Keep out of this, nurse. He wants to talk, don't you, pal?a ah.e.l.lo, copper,a I said, and closed my eyes.

When I opened them again the thin guy in white was standing over me.

aHow am I doing, doc?a I asked.

aYou're doing fine,a he told me. aYou're a miracle.a I blinked him into focus. He was young and eager and interested. I liked him.

aWhere am I?a I asked, and tried to lift my head, but it was too heavy.

aYou've had an accident. Just take it easy. You're coming along fine.a The copper appeared from behind him.

aCan I talk to him?a he asked, an exasperated note in his voice. aJust one or two questions. That can't hurt him.a aMake it short,a the doctor said. aHe has a bad concussion.a He stood aside and the copper took his place. He had a notebook in his hand and an inch of blunt pencil in his thick fingers.

aWhat's your name, pal?a he asked. aDon't bear down on it. We just want to get things straightened out.a aJohn Farrar,a I told him.

aAddress ?a aI haven't one.a aYou gotta sleep somewhere, haven't you?a aI was. .h.i.tchhiking.a He blew out his fat cheeks and looked up at the ceiling as if he were praying.

aWell, okay, you were hitchhiking. Got a father or a mother or a wife or someone?a aNo.a He turned and looked at the doctor.

aNow do you believe I never have any luck? Of all the guys who get snarled up in a car smash I have to pick me an orphan.a aYou'd better cut this short,a the doctor said, his fingers on my pulse. aHe's not fit to talk yet.a aWait a minute; wait a minute,a the copper said, licking his pencil. aI've got to get this straightened out.a He turned to me again. aOkay, pal. So there's no one to claim you. Well, how about the dame you was with? Who was she?a A picture of her floated into my mind with her jet-black hair, her hungry look and the shape she had on her.

aI don't know. aCall me Della if you must call me something.a That's what she said. She didn't tell me her other name.a The copper groaned.

aHow is she?a I went on. aIs she badly hurt?a aShe's all right,a the doctor said. aDon't worry about her.a aAnd her husband?a I asked.

aWhat husband?a the copper said, staring at me.

aThe guy who was sitting at the back of the car. She said his name was Paul. Is he all right?a aYou don't have to worry about him, either,a the doctor said. The copper pa.s.sed his hand over his face and shook his head. He seemed to be the one who was worrying.

aHow did it happen? Maybe you can tell me that,a he said, but there was no hope in his voice.

I couldn't be bothered to explain about Petelli. That would have taken too long. I wanted to close my eyes and forget about the car smash.

aAnother car was coming towards us,a I said. aHe was coming fast. He didn't seem to see us. She tried to get out of his way, but he caught us. What happened to him?a The copper drew in a deep breath.

aI'll say it this time,a he said, with heavy sarcasm. aYou don't have to worry about him. Now look, pal, let's get all this down on the mat and work at it. If you were hitchhiking how come you were driving this Buick?a It was my turn to stare at him now.

aIt was a Bentley, and she was driving. I was sitting at her side, and her husband, Paul, was at the back.a aWell, smother my old father in a feather bed!a the copper exclaimed. He took off his hat and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. Then he put his hat on again and pulled aggressively at the brim. aYou were driving! She was at the back! And there was no G.o.dd.a.m.n husband.a He leaned forward and wagged his finger at me as he bawled, aAnd the sonofab.i.t.c.h of a car was a Buick!a I got excited.

aYou've got it wrong!a I said, clutching hold of the sheet. aI tell you she was driving. The car was a black Bentley coup. This other car hit us. Ask the driver. He'll tell you.a The copper waved his notebook in my face.

aThere was no other car! What's the matter with you? What have you got to lie about?a aThat's enough,a the doctor said, his voice sharp. aHe's not in a fit state to be shouted at. You must leave him alone, sergeant.a aI'm not lying !a I said, and tried to sit up. That finished me. A light exploded inside my head, and I took a nosedive into darkness.

It was daylight when I opened my eyes again. The screen at the foot of the bed had been removed, but the screens on either side were still there. I could see another bed facing me. From the sounds going on around me I guessed I was in a ward.

I looked to see if the copper was there, but he wasn't. I lay still, aware I was feeling a lot better that my head didn't ache, although it was still sore, and when I moved my arms I could do so without effort.

After a while I got around to thinking about what that copper had said. It began to worry me. No other car, no husband, it was a Buick and not a Bentley, and I was driving. What did he mean? Maybe I had dreamed the copper. Maybe he .was part of the mists and the fog and the darkness. He must be unless he was confusing me with someone else.

Then the doctor came around from behind the screen. He grinned cheerfully at me.

aYou don't have to tell me you're better,a he said. aI can see that for myself.a aI'm fine,a I said. aHow long have I been here?a He glanced at my papers at the foot of the bed.

aYou were admitted at eleven-thirty on the night of September 6th. Today is September 12th. So you've been here six days.a aSeptember?a aThat's right.a aYou mean July, don't you? It can't be September. We hit that car on July 29th: the night I fought the Miami Kid.a aI don't know about that. You were admitted on September 6th.a aThat can't be right. I couldn't have remained unconscious for more than a month before I was found.a The doctor smiled.

aOf course you couldn't. As a matter of fact you were found almost at once. A speed-cop heard the crash, although he didn't see it happen. He arrived on the scene five minutes after the smash. You were brought here an hour later.a I licked my lips. My mouth had suddenly gone dry.

aYou wouldn't be fooling about the date, doc?a He shook his head.

aNo. I wouldn't be fooling about the date.a He sat on the edge of the bed. aNow, you mustn't worry about this. It'll work out all right. At the moment you're showing typical signs of concussion. You've had a severe head injury. You're lucky to be alive. For some time you must expect to be confused. Dates, details of who was in the car and who wasn't, even your past may not make sense, but they will sort themselves out in a little while. At the moment you are convinced the car crash happened on July 29th. You'll find it impossible to believe it happened on September 6th, but don't let that worry you. In a week or so your memory will function normally again. And another thing, don't let the police rattle you. I've explained the position to them, and they understand. They want you to help them if you can, but they know now that if you make mistakes you're not doing it intentionally. All you have to do is to take it easy and rest all you can. It's just a matter of time.a He was a nice guy, and he was doing his best for me, and I was grateful, but that didn't stop me worrying. I knew I had fought the Kid on July 29th, and the crash had happened on the same night. Nothing he could say would alter that fact.

aI don't want to argue about it, doc,a I said, abut do me a favour, will you?a aCertainly. What is it?a aDella a" the girl I was with. She's here, too, isn't she? Ask her. She'll tell you it was July 29th. Ask her husband. He'll tell you the same thing.a The cheerful, bedside manner slipped a little.

aNow, here is a case in point,a he said. aThis business about a husband. You must expect it, you know. Only she and you were found in the car. There was no husband.a My heart began to pound.

aWell, all right, there was no husband,a I said, trying to control the shake in my voice. aThen ask her. She'll tell you. You're not going to say she wasn't there, are you? Go and ask her!a He ran his hand over his sleek, dark hair. The smile had gone for good.

aA couple of days ago you weren't well enough to be told,a he said gently. aI can tell you now. She broke her back. She was dead when they found you.a

chapter nine.

In the afternoon Police Lieutenant Bill Riskin came to see me. If the nurse hadn't told me he was a police lieutenant I wouldn't have believed it. He was a little guy, around fifty, with a sad, wrinkled face and bright little eyes that peered at me through a pair of horn spectacles. He carried his hat in his hand, and he walked on tiptoe, and when he spoke, his voice was soft and gentle.

By this time I was as jumpy as a nervous horse. I was ready to go into a flat spin at the drop of a hat. Maybe that's why they picked Riskin. If they had unleashed that fat sergeant on me again I'd have flipped my lid.

He pulled up a chair beside me and crossed his short legs. I saw he was wearing boots and white socks, and his ankles were as thin as matchsticks.

aWell, boy, how's the head?a he asked.

I said the head was fine. I was clutching on to the sheet, and sweating, suspicious of him, suspicious of everyone. At the back of my mind I was beginning to wonder if they weren't going to tell me I was crazy.

aDoc said you were upset,a he went on. aYou've got nothing to be upset about. You're not the first fella who had a crack on his head and has got confused. You want to take it easy, and let us boys do the worrying. All we want to do is to get this straightened out. The girl died. If someone hit you, they didn't stop, and that makes it a hit-and-run job. It's our business to find the fella and teach him not to do it again. We'll find him more quickly if you can help us. You want us to find him, don't you?a That sounded reasonable enough, but he wasn't kidding me. I'd seen that guy's car turn over and smash into a tree before I had blacked out. If they had found me five minutes after the crash, as the doctor had said, they would have found him, too.

I said I wanted them to find him.

Riskin nodded and peered at me.

aIs it right you were hitchhiking?a aYeah.a aAnd the girl let you drive the car?a I didn't say anything. I couldn't understand why they were so anxious for me to admit driving the car, unless they wanted to pin Della's death on me. I began to get the jumps again.

He repeated his question in his mild voice, and even gave me an encouraging smile.

aI was not driving!a I exclaimed, raising my voice. aShe was driving. I was sitting at her side, and her husband was sitting at the back! How many more times do I have to tell you guys?a I expected him to start yelling at me, but he didn't. He just nodded his head and looked a little sadder.

aI'm sorry, boy. You want to take it easy. You don't want to get worked up. I guess there's been a misunderstanding about who was driving.a aThere d.a.m.n well has!a I said. aThat sergeant of yours . . .a aNever mind about the sergeant. He's been taught to bawl people out. It's the system. I never could cotton on to it myself,a and he grinned at me.

I was still a little suspicious of him, but in spite of that, I was beginning to like him.

aWhere did she pick you up, boy?a he went on. aYou were walking along some road and she overtook you and you showed her your thumb. Is that what happened?a aNo; you've got it all wrong. Look, will you let me tell you what did happen: right from the start?a aThat's just what I want you to do,a he said, and took out a notebook. aMind if I make a few notes? I'm not as young as I could be, and my memory ain't what it was,a and he winked to show me he was kidding.

I gave him the whole works. I told him about Pittsburgh, how I wanted to get into the big money, how I'd hitchhiked to Pelotta, how I had busted MacCready's jaw and double-crossed Petelli. I went on to tell him how Della had offered to help me, how Pepi and Benno had chased us, and how the other car had crashed into us.

It took time, and I had scarcely a whisper left in me by the time I was through, but I was so glad to get it all off my chest that I didn't care how I felt.

Riskin never said a word all the time I talked. He made notes, scratched his ear from time to time, but he didn't interrupt.

aThat's a very comprehensive story,a he said when he was sure I hadn't anything more to tell him. aNow you take it easy, boy. You've nothing to worry about. Maybe you'd better take a nap. You look tired: like me. I'm always tired, but the Chief never gives me any time for naps.a He stood up. aWell, so long. I'll be in again in a day or two. If there's anything else you remember, just let me know.a aThere isn't anything else to remember,a I said. aYou've got the lot.a aThat's fine. Well, you take a nap. So long for now.a I watched him tiptoe out of the ward. Up to now I hadn't had any use for a cop, but that little guy was different. I decided he was the nicest cop of them all.

Two days went by. I was making progress. The doctor was pretty pleased with me.

aYou keep on like this,a he told me, aand we'll have you up in a couple of days. You have a const.i.tution of an elephant, and a head like granite.a I grinned at him, but I wasn't all that easy. I was wondering what Riskin was up to, and if he were going to show up.

aI'm looking forward to seeing the town,a I said. aI've heard enough about Lincoln Beach, but I've never had a chance of looking it over.a He looked surprised.

aThis isn't Lincoln Beach. What gave you that idea? This is Miami.a aMiami?a I stared at him. aBut they have a hospital at Lincoln Beach, haven't they?a aOf course. It's a wonderful hospital.a He smiled. aAlmost as good as this one.a aThen why didn't they take me there? What was the idea of driving me over two hundred miles to Miami?a aIt wasn't two hundred miles,a he said patiently. aIt was more like seventy. As you were nearer to Miami than Lincoln Beach, they brought you here.a I began to get excited again.

aBut I hadn't even reached Lincoln Beach before the crash,a I said. aWe were only a few miles outside Pelotta, on our way to Lincoln Beach, when that car hit us!a aDon't bother your brains about it,a he said, getting his bedside smile hitched to his face. aIt'll straighten out in a few days.a And when he left me, I lay there, feeling cold, wondering if the bang on the head had affected my brain, wondering if I were going crazy. I began to long for Riskin to come and see me. Every time anyone came into the ward, I raised my head and looked eagerly to see if it were him. I got so my heart pounded every time that door opened.

The next morning they moved me out of the ward.

aWhat's the idea?a I asked the nurses as they pushed the bed along a corridor. aWhere are you taking me?a aDoctor thought you'd like to have a room to yourself,a the fat nurse said. aHe wants you to rest more than you're doing.a That wasn't the reason, I told myself. Maybe they thought I was nuts and wouldn't be safe with the others. I began to get excited.

aI don't want to be alone!a I said. aTake me back! I'm fine as I am. I don't want a room to myself!a The doctor appeared from nowhere.

aThere's nothing to get excited about,a he said. aYou'll like this room. It's got a wonderful view.a I thought if I made too much commotion they'd put me in a strait-jacket: that's the kind of state I had worked myself into.

It was a nice room, and the view was swell, but I hated it. I had a feeling I had been put in there for a purpose, and I wanted to know what that purpose was.

In the evening, around six, when I was lying there alone, looking out of the window at the ocean and the pleasure boats and people surf riding, the door pushed open and Riskin came in.

ah.e.l.lo, boy,a he said, easing the door shut, ahow are you coming?a aWhy have they put me in here?a I said, trying to sit up. aWhat's the idea?a He tiptoed across the room to the bed.

aHey, hey, what's biting you? Don't you know a room like this costs dough?a aThen what's the idea?a He reached for a chair and sat down.

aI don't think that doc likes his other patients to see me coming in here,a he said. aMaybe it's that. He's a nice guy, that doc. Maybe it occurred to him it might be embarra.s.sing for you to have policemen asking questions with everyone in the ward trying to listen in. That might be an idea, too.a I looked at him for a long moment, then I drew in a deep breath, and ran my fingers over my face, feeling it was damp and hot.

aThat angle didn't strike me. Know what? I was beginning to think I was going nuts, and that's why they had taken me out of the ward.a He produced a packet of cigarettes.

aLike a smoke, boy?a he said. aYou don't want to get those ideas into your head.a He struck a match and lit the cigarette for me. Then he lit one for himself. aI bet if the nurse catches us she'll raise blue murder,a he went on. aStill, that's what nurses are for, aren't they?a I grinned at him. I was feeling much, much better.

aI wish you had come before. I was getting worried.a aI've been busy.a He examined the end of his cigarette, then his pale, sharp eyes looked right into mine. aI've got a little shock for you. Think you can take it?a I drew on the cigarette, aware my heart was beginning to pound. aI guess so. What is it?a aThat car wasn't a Bentley; it was a Buick convertible: a black job, with red-leather upholstery, disc wheels and built-in head and fog lamps. You were found in the driving seat. She was found wedged down in the back seat. They had to cut the front seats away to get her out. There was no third person found. There was no other car, either. I've been over the ground myself. I've seen all the photographs. I've seen the Buick. I've talked to the cop who found you.a I lay still and stared at him. I wanted to tell him he was lying, but the words wouldn't come. I felt the blood leave my face. The cigarette slipped out of my fingers and dropped on to the floor.

He bent and picked it up.

aTake it easy, boy,a he said. aI warned you it'd be a shock. There's nothing to worry about. You don't have to look so scared.a aYou're lying !a I said in a voice I didn't know was my own. aHere, take your cigarette,a he said. aRelax. Let's go over this thing together and see if we can make some sense of it.a I wouldn't take the cigarette. I was feeling sick. I had a sudden urge to jump out of bed and run before they could put me in a padded cell. I didn't believe he was lying: and yet I had to believe it.

aYou told me this car hit you on the night of July 29th,a he went on mildly. aThe smash you were in took place on the night of September 6th. I've seen the cop's notebook. The hospital records say the same thing. Well, now, what do you make of that?a aI don't make anything of it. All I know is we hit that car after my fight with the Miami Kid, and that was on July 29th. I'm telling you the truth!a aYou think you are. I'm sure of that, but it didn't happen that way. I told you I've been busy. I have. I think I've got the key to this business. I've talked it over with the doc. He thinks I'm on the right track. Maybe it's going to be difficult for you to accept the explanation, but let me put it to you. The doc says it may take weeks for you to get your memory back. You've had a brain injury, and until things settle down you are likely to get all kinds of odd ideas into your head. You mustn't worry about them. The doc says so, and he knows what he's talking about. Now will you try to accept what I'm going to tell you? Get your mind in a receptive mood if you can. It'll make things easier for us both. Think you can?a I licked my dry lips.

aGo ahead and tell me.a aThere was a car smash on the night of July 29th, a few miles outside Pelotta. Two cars going in opposite directions and travelling at high speed nudged each other and both turned over. One of them was a black Bentley which caught fire. The driver of this car was a guy named Johnny Farrar, a boxer. He was killed.a That really got me going. I struggled up.