Strictly For Cash Part 4

aAre you crazy?a I shouted. aI'm Farrar! I'm Johnny Farrar! What are you trying to do? Send me nuts or something?a He patted my arm.

aTake it easy, boy. You and me have got to work this out together. Give me a chance, will you? You'll see where I'm heading if you'll let me tell you without getting excited.a I dropped back on the pillow. I was sweating and scared and shaking.

aThe accident was fully reported in the local papers,a he went on. aThey gave every detail. You can see the report in a moment. It's obvious to me you must have read about that smash in the paper. It made an impression on your mind. Five weeks later you get into a smash yourself. You get concussion. You have a brain injury. Unconsciously you have identified yourself with Farrar. When you recovered consciousness you are sure you are Farrar. You're sure it was you who had the smash on July 29th. Do you get the idea? It'll take a few weeks for you to get over this delusion, but you will. The doc says so, and he ought to know. All you've got to do is to take it easy and rest. It'll come back the way it happened if you don't worry about it. But what you've got to get out of your mind is you're Farrar. You aren't. You weren't in that smash with the other car on July 29th. You're not a boxer, and you never fought the Miami Kid. Get that through your head and you're three-quarters home.a aDo you think for one moment I believe a yarn like that?a I said through clenched teeth. aI know I'm Farrar! I did fight the Kid! I've got friends who can prove it! There is a guy in Pelotta who knows me. Bring him here and let him identify me. His name is Tom Roche. He owns a caf.a aThat's right,a Riskin said. aI've talked to him. His name was in the paper. He and his wife, Alice, and a guy named Solly Brant, identified the body. Because you read about them, you're imagining they are your friends.a I clutched hold of his arm.

aIdentified what body?a aFarrar's body. Here, take a look at this. You'll find it all there, just as I told you.a He took a newspaper out of his pocket and gave it to me. It was all there, just as he had told me, but there was one thing he had missed out. It said in the paper that I had stolen the Bentley, and the owner hadn't come forward to claim it.

I threw the paper on the floor. I felt I was suffocating.

aI've tried to trace the Bentley,a he went on, abut the licence plates are phoney. I have traced the Buick.a aYou have! Who does it belong to?a I asked in a strangled voice.

aTo you, boy. Your name is John Ricca, and your address is 3945, Apartment 4, Franklin Boulevard, Lincoln Beach.a aYou're lying!a aI wish you'd take it easy,a he said. aI told you it'd take a little time for you to accept what I'm telling you. You've been identified.a It only needed that.

aWho identified me?a aYour cousin. That's why you're in this private room. As soon as he found out who you were, he arranged for you to have the very best treatment.a aI haven't a cousin, and my name's not Ricca!a I cried, pounding the sheet with my fist. aI don't know what you're talking about!a aHe's your cousin all right. He took a look at you last night when you were asleep. He identified you right away. The car's registration clinches it.a aI don't believe a word of it!a I was shouting at him. aI haven't a cousin, I tell you! Do you hear me! I'm Farrar!a He scratched his ear while he looked at me. There was that exasperated but kindly expression on his face people get when they are talking to lunatics.

aWell, look, boy, try to take it easy. Maybe you'd better see him. Maybe you'll know him when you see him.a My heart skipped a beat, then began to race.

aHim? Who do you mean? What are you talking about?a aYour cousin, Ricca. He's waiting outside.a

chapter ten.

He came into the room as silently as a ghost: a short, fat man with a potbelly and short, thick legs. His face was round and fat, and small, purple veins made an unsightly network over his skin. He had snake's eyes, flat and glittering and as lifeless as gla.s.s. He was going bald, and had taken pains to spread his thinning black hair over the bald patches without much success. His thick, red lips were set in a meaningless, perpetual smile.

One thing I was certain of: I'd never seen him before in my life.

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.

ah.e.l.lo, Johnny,a the fat man said. He had a soft, fruity voice as if it came from a throat well cus.h.i.+oned with fat.

I didn't say anything. I couldn't. It was as if I had been pitchforked into a horrible nightmare.

aHe looks fine, doesn't he?a the fat man went on, smiling at Riskin. aJeepers, Johnny, you gave me a scare. I've been looking all over for you. How do you feel?a aI don't know you,a I said, and my voice was husky. aGet out of here!a aTake it easy, boy,a Riskin said mildly. aGive 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.a aI tell you I don't know him!a The fat man put the carnations down on the bedside table. aYou've taken a pretty bad knock, Johnny,a he said. aThe doc thinks I can help you. I want to help you. You know that.a 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.

aI don't want to talk to you.a He puffed breath at me, and his diamond flashed in the sunlight coming through the open window.

aCome on, Johnny, let's try to get on top of this thing,a he said. aThere's Ginny to think of. You haven't forgotten Ginny? You can imagine how she is feeling. She wants to see you, Johnny.a Was there no end to this? I found myself clutching hold of the sheet again.

aI don't know what you're talking about! I don't want you in here. Get out !a aYou don't remember Ginny a" the girl you're going to marry?a He looked over at Riskin, raising his fat shoulders. aI can't believe that. Would you like to see her? Is that what you'd like?a I just lay there, staring at him while a cold wind blew through my mind.

aYou two get together,a Riskin said. aI gotta go. Take it easy, boy. It's going to work out all right, only you've got to be receptive.a I wanted to tell him to stay. I wanted to tell him to take this fat horror out of here, but no words came. He went off, scratching his ear and shaking his head.

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.

aYou get out, too,a I said.

Instead, he reached for a chair and sat down.

aKnow what they call that guy on the Force ?a he asked. aThey call him Foxy Riskin. He's made a hit with you, hasn't he, with his aboya this and his aboya 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.a I didn't know whether I was coming or going. I turned hot, then cold.

aIf it wasn't for me,a the fat man went on, resting his pudgy hands on his fat knees and staring at me, ayou'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.a aI won't listen to you,a I said. aGet out of here!a aThey don't know who she is. I could tell them, and once they know, you're sunk,a the fat man went on. aIt 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.a aI don't know what you're talking about. You're not my cousin! I've never seen you before in my life !a His smile widened.

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

aYou're mixing me up with someone else,a I said, trying to keep my voice steady. aI'm John Farrar. I'm not Ricca, and I'm not your cousin. Now will you please get out!a aI know you're Farrar. You're the guy who killed Wertham 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.a aYou know I'm Farrar?a I said, leaning forward to stare at him. aThen all this talk about me being Ricca is a lie?a aHe thinks you're Ricca,a the fat man said, aand so long as he thinks so I can swing it. Once he finds out you're Farrar, you're done for.a I put my head in my hands. I felt I was going crazy.

aSuppose we skip the comedy,a the fat man went on, and his smile oozed off his face like a fish sliding off a fishmonger's slab. aYou 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.a He thrust his head forward: he looked like a tortoise sitting there, his hands on his knees, his head forward, his eyes hooded. aWhere've you hidden the money?a 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.

aNow, look,a he said, ayou'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 blowback. You can walk out of here as free as the air. What do you say?a aI don't know what you're talking about,a I said, and was surprised how steady my voice was now.

He studied me.

aUse 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?a aIf 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.a aDon't get excited,a he said, his fat fingers drumming on his knees. aYou 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 d.a.m.n 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?a aI don't know,a I said. aAnd if I did know I wouldn't tell you. Now get out!a His fat face turned into a mask of snarling fury. He looked like a demon.

aYou fool!a he exclaimed, and his voice shook. aDo 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?a aGet out!a He got control of himself. The meaningless smile came back as he stood up.

aOkay, if that's the way you want to play it,a he said. aSuit 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 d.a.m.ned sure you won't talk yourself out of three.a He walked silently to the door.

aWant to change your mind?a he asked, pausing to look back at me.

aGet out!a I said.

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

chapter eleven.

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

aDid you enjoy your visitor?a she asked, smiling at me. aImagine him being your cousin. You're not a bit alike.a aCousins don't have to be,a I said, surprised I could say anything.

aI guess that's right. Did he leave these?a She picked up the carnations. aAren't they wonderful!a aYou have them. I don't care about flowers. I'll be glad if you'll take them away.a aWell, if you really mean that. Why, thanks. I think they're wonderful.a She picked them up and sniffed at them. aYour cousin must have a lot of money. That diamond he was wearing and his car!a aYeah, he doesn't starve.a aI'm beginning to suspect you're someone very important.a aWho me? I'm n.o.body. What gave you that idea?a aWell, those two policemen outside. They told me they were guarding you. I guess you must be important.a I kept a deadpan expression, but it was an effort.

aMy 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?a aOh, they've just arrived.a I was beginning to get the shakes again.

aTell me, nurse, what happened to my clothes?a aThey're in that closet; over there. Did you want something?a aNo, 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.a aWell, they're right in that closet. Is there anything I can get you?a aI guess not, thanks. I think I'll take a nap. Those two guys made me feel tired.a aThanks for the flowers. They really are something.a aYou're welcome.a 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 ident.i.ty 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 s.h.i.+rt, 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 s.h.i.+rt 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 tight, 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 pa.s.sage.

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 overmantel. 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.

aI'll take her down after I've seen the doc,a he said. aI've forgotten the mortician's certificate.a aOne of these days you'll forget your head, not that it would be a great loss,a the nurse said tartly, and turned away.

The attendant made a pa.s.s at her, but she antic.i.p.ated it and whisked her rear out of reach.

aAnd if you don't keep your paws . . .a aI know. I know,a the attendant said wearily. aYou'll tell the matron. Why don't you relax sometime?a 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.

By that time I was all in. I flopped down on the bed. I thought I was going to pa.s.s out. I was shaking like a leaf, and there was an awful swirling going on inside my head. I fought against it. It went away after a moment or so. I got a grip on myself. I didn't dare waste a moment. I got on the trolley and covered myself with the sheet. Then I took off my hat and lay down, pulling the sheet over my head.

I lay there, waiting. My head was beginning to ache now, and every now and then a s.h.i.+ver ran through me. I began to think I would be spotted before they even got me out of the room. I was in two minds whether to get up and hide in the bathroom when I heard the door open.

I turned to stone, holding my breath, trying to control the hammering of my heart. The trolley began to move. The guy pus.h.i.+ng it was whistling under his breath. He sounded as if he hadn't a care in the world.

That short ride down the corridor was the worst experience I've ever been through. Even lying in a foxhole with the scream of falling bombs in my ears was nothing to this.

aWhat have you got there, chum?a a voice asked.

I felt my blood congeal. I knew by the voice it could only be one of the cops.

aThis is just up your street,a the attendant said. aIt's a corpse.a aAw, h.e.l.l. Don't you cure 'em in this hospital?a aNot often. I guess the head doc draws a commission from the undertaker. He certainly keeps him busy.a aWhat is this? A man or woman?a aA woman. She died of peritonitis. I guess the doc left his glove in her or something. I've never known a guy as absentminded as he is.a The cop laughed and the trolley began to move again. It b.u.mped over a step, and then I heard the faint swish of closing doors. A moment later I felt a downward movement and guessed we were in an elevator.

The attendant continued to whistle under his breath. The elevator b.u.mped to a gentle standstill, the doors swished open and the trolley began to move again.

aHi, Joe,a a girl's voice said.

aHi, sugar, how's it coming?a The trolley stopped.

aWho's that?a aMrs. Ennismore. Room 44,a the attendant said. aYou're looking cute this evening.a aThat's opposite Ricca's room, isn't it?a aYeah. There're two cops up there, keeping an eye on him.a aThere are? I bet the matron had a fit, didn't she aRiskin handled her. That guy's smart. I wouldn't want him after me. He's got Ricca fooled. Ricca imagines he's getting away with this loss of memory stuff, but he isn't. I heard Foxy tell Doc Summers he'll be good and ready to slap a murder charge on him tomorrow. I'd like to see his face when they march in and pinch him.a aWho did he murder?a aSome dame. He must have been nuts. He nearly killed himself as well. Listen, sugar, how about going for a ride with me in the elevator? It might break down between floors if we're lucky.a aIf you're lucky, you mean.a aLemme get rid of this stiff and let's try it.a The trolley began to move again. aYou wait right here, sugar. This is going to be something to put in your diary.a The foot of the trolley b.u.mped against swing-doors. The attendant gave it a hard push and sent it forward to cannon against a wall.

I heard him say, aThe guy who invented elevators was a public benefactor. Hop in, and I'll show you for why.a Then there was silence. I lay there for a moment or so until I heard the elevator doors swish to, then I pulled off the sheet and sat up.

The room was windowless, and in darkness, but the light from the pa.s.sage, coming through the crack in the swing-doors, was enough for me to get a vague idea of the set-up. There were a number of trolleys covered with sheets standing against the walls. An overpowering smell of formaldehyde filled the air, and it was cold.

I slid off the trolley, again nearly forgetting my hat. I put it on. As my eyes became used to the semi-darkness, I spotted a door across the far end of the room. Faint daylight came from under it.

I went over to it, turned the handle and opened it a couple of inches. I looked into a narrow alley. Two big white motor ambulances were parked out there. The light was beginning to fade now, but it was still too light to be safe.

I opened the door and looked up the alley. Iron gates stood open at the far end. Beyond them I could see a main street. There was no one guarding the gates.

I started off down the alley towards the street. I had no idea where I was going or what I was going to do. I hadn't any !honey. There was nothing in my pockets, not even a handkerchief. But I didn't care. At least I was getting away from Riskin, the hospital and Ricca. That would do to get on with.

chapter twelve.

A big yellow moon threw amber light over the sea. There was a car parked on the sand, its lights out. The man and the girl, on either side of the car, began to undress. I was near enough to hear their voices, but not what they were saying.

This part of the beach was lonely and deserted but for these two and the car. I had lain hidden in the mangroves for the past three hours, then suddenly the car had arrived. It came just when I was giving up hope.

I watched the two of them run down to the sea and splash in. As soon as they were swimming I moved out of my hiding-place and headed for the car. I found his coat. My fingers closed around a wallet in his inside pocket. I hauled it out, and went around to the back of the car where they couldn't see me if they looked this way. The wallet was stuffed with money. I could scarcely believe my luck. I took a hundred and fifty dollars in small bills. That still left him enough to buy her a slap-up supper. I slid the wallet into the pocket and tossed the coat into the car, then I ran back to the darkness of the mangroves.

During the three hours I had remained hidden I had made a plan. Riskin would expect me to clear out of Miami as fast as I could. I had told him I had a talent for hitchhiking. He'd probably cover every truck and car going out of town, and watch every road. I had decided my safest bet was to remain in Miami, and hole up somewhere. I had to find myself a quiet hotel, spin them a yarn I was waiting for my baggage, and hope they'd give me a room.

There should be dozens of suitable hotels if I could only find them. I'd have to be careful. My description was bound to be out now, and every patrolman would be looking for me: Ricca would probably be looking for me too.

I started off towards the bright lights of the waterfront. I moved slowly. I was tired. I had walked miles since I had left the hospital. My head ached too. While I had been hiding I had taken off the bandages. They had shaved my head, but from the feel of it the wound was healed.