1972 - You're Dead Without Money (18 page)

He would have four bodies to get rid of . . . one was tricky enough . . . but four!

Then he remembered the deserted cove Judy had taken him to the first time they had met. Burying bodies in sand wasn’t hard work. Hard work never had appealed to Vin. But he couldn’t believe no one ever went to the cove and sooner or later some kid would dig or the sea would wash up and then there would be trouble.

He thought some more and finally decided that the cove was too dangerous. Then he remembered seeing a bulldozer at work on swampland a few miles outside the City. He remembered hearing a barman talking about a big reclaiming scheme and another luxury hotel going up there. This might be a hiding place for bodies.

So Vin drove out to the swamp right away. He found three bulldozers working, tearing up mangrove trees and leveling the ground and a twenty-foot high cement mixer grinding out cement which was being used to cover the masses of rubble trucks were unloading.

Vin sat in the car and watched the cement mixer at work. He noted there was a perpendicular steel ladder going to the top. After a while, he convinced himself that he could carry a body up there and tip it into the mouth of the machine. What better method of getting rid of a body?

Once Vin convinced himself that he could get rid of the bodies without trace, he drove away from the swamp feeling pretty pleased with himself. The first move would be to get Judy to part with the buyer’s name. He would fix that when he met her this evening. He wondered now how he could kill her quickly, silently and without mess. This was important if he was going to knock her off at the Blue Heaven motel.

As he drove through the shade of the palm trees that lined the highway, he considered the various methods he had heard about while in jail and while fraternizing with various criminals in New York. A gun or a knife were out: there must be no blood. He considered a crushing blow at the back of the head, but that still might produce blood. He had read somewhere that there was an artery in the neck which, if pressed hard enough, would produce the required effect, but as he had no idea where the artery was located he passed that one over.

Then he remembered a Mafia button man he had once met who was a garrote artist. His garrote had been a dog lead so if the cops ever searched him and found it, he had an explanation ready. The lead whipped over the head, the hands crossed, a knee driven into the back did the trick in a few seconds.

‘Why not?’ Vin said aloud.

On his way back to the bungalow he stopped at a pet store and bought a leather dog lead.

The pansy assistant asked him if he would like the name of his dog stamped on the lead.

‘You may not believe it,’ the assistant said, regarding Vin with serious eyes, ‘but doggies do know and they do care. It won’t take a tiny moment and it will be only three dollars extra.’

Vin told him to get stuffed.

In the meantime, Joey got back to, the bungalow. As soon as he came into the back garden, Elliot saw he was worried. He and Cindy had been waiting for Joey’s return and as he joined them, Elliot said a little anxiously, ‘All okay, Joey?’

‘Yes.’ Joey sat down. ‘I rented a safe and here’s the key.’

He handed Elliot a safe deposit key. ‘But we’re being tailed, Don. I didn’t spot the tailers, but I get a feeling and it’s never wrong. I was picked up as soon as I left here. As soon as I got the feeling, I shook the tailer off . . . I lost him. It was tricky. He was good, but I lost him.’

‘What’s going on?’ Elliot was puzzled. ‘That’s the second time you think you were followed.’ Then he remembered that the C.I.A. were interested in the stamps. Could the C.I.A. be following Joey? He decided he wouldn’t start a scare without more information so he said nothing. ‘You’re sure you lost them?’

‘I’m sure,’ Joey said.

Elliot got to his feet.

‘Suppose we hide the key that’s an idea?’

Joey agreed.

They went together into the gardening toolshed and hid the key under a can of weed killer.

‘Now if anything happens we know where it is,’ Elliot said.

Joey looked sharply at him.

‘What does that mean?’

Elliot grinned.

‘Probably nothing. Tell Cindy where it’s hidden.’

Later, Vin returned to the bungalow. Joey and Cindy had gone for a walk and Vin found Elliot on his own in the garden.

‘Give me a thousand bucks,’ Vin said, ‘and I’ll get the buyer’s name tonight.’

Elliot studied him.

‘Okay . . . you are sure she will tell you?’

‘Yeah.’

‘She could be conning you.’

Vin moved impatiently.

‘We’ve gone over all that jazz. She shows me the letter her old man had from the buyer.’

‘And you will show it to me?’

‘Sure . . . if she’ll part with it.’

‘Look, Vin, no offence, but I don’t trust you. I have to be sure the name of the man you give me is the buyer. Get me his name and I’ll call him. If he says he’ll buy, I’ll give you the number of the drawer, but not before.’

Vin restrained his temper with an effort.

‘Get me the money and stop acting like a goddamn movie star.’

‘Just so long as you know,’ Elliot said and went into the bungalow.

Vin stared after him, his eyes vicious.

* * *

Orson was alerted by Nisson around 21.00 that Pinna in the Jaguar was heading his way. He immediately alerted the six men Lessing had stationed around Larrimore’s house: three of them in the garden, two in a parked car and one patrolling the road.

‘This could be it,’ he said. ‘Pinna’s on his way. Let him get into the house, then grab him as he comes out. Watch it! He could be armed!’

His mind totally occupied in how he was going to force Judy to tell him the name of the buyer, Vin completely forgot Elliot’s warning to watch out that he wasn’t being tailed. He was oblivious that Ross was driving ahead of him and Nisson behind him. When he reached Larrimore’s house, he pulled up, lit a cigarette and waited for Judy to show.

He would have to be careful not to arouse her suspicions, he told himself. He would take her to the Low-Life Club, give her dinner, then take her to the Blue Heaven motel. Once in the cabin, he would ask her for the buyer’s name, then if she didn’t come across, he would knock her cold, gag and bind her and see what a few lighted cigarettes applied to her legs would do to get her talking. When she had parted with the name, he would call this guy and ask him if he were interested in buying the stamps. If he was and agreed the price, then Judy would cease to exist.

Although tense, he managed a wide grin as Judy got into the car.

‘How about the Low-Life Club, baby?’ he asked, shifting into gear, ‘then we can go to the Blue Heaven. Okay with you?’

‘Fine.’ She regarded him. ‘How are your plans working out, Superman? Any nearer to the stamps?’

‘Yeah. Let’s talk about that at the motel,’ Vin said. ‘Pleasure before business, huh?’

‘You mean you’ve found out where he keeps them?’

‘I didn’t say that, but I’m getting nearer.’

‘You sound cagey.’

He grinned at her. ‘That makes two of us, doesn’t it?’

‘Is that girl who came to see my old man this morning hooked up with you?’

Vin stiffened and gaped, then realizing she was watching him and he had given himself away, he said, ‘That’s right. You saw her then?’

‘I saw her. What’s she to you?’

‘Me? She’s just a kid . . . nothing.’

‘She didn’t look such a kid to me. Why did the old bastard see her?’

‘Okay,’ Vin said. ‘We’ll go to the motel first. I’ll tell you and you tell me.’

‘What’s that mean?’

‘You’ll see.’

He turned off the highway on to a side road that led to the motel.

‘Have you become a dog lover, Superman?’ she asked suddenly.

Vin twisted his head to stare at her.

‘Dog lover?’ Then he stiffened as he saw she was holding the dog lead he had bought and which had been in his pocket.

‘Oh that . . .’ He felt sweat break out on his face.

‘Where’s the dog?’ she asked, staring at him.

‘I don’t take it around. I’ve left him in my flat.’

‘And little miss prissy looks after him?’

‘Nothing like that, baby. He’s an old dog. He likes being alone.’

‘What kind of dog?’

Vin had no idea what kind of dogs there were since he never bothered about dogs. He shrugged.

‘Oh, a dog . . . big, floppy . . . a dog.’

‘What’s his name?’

Vin drew in a slow breath of exasperation.

‘How the hell . . . its name? Joe.’

‘That’s a funny name for a dog.’

‘That’s what I call him . . . you interested in dogs?’

‘No.’ Again she looked steadily at him as she handled the lead. ‘I’m just curious why you should have a dog lead in your pocket.’

‘I was late . . . didn’t want to keep you waiting. I guess I forgot it was in my pocket.’ Vin slowed to drive through the archway leading into the motel.

‘When I saw this hanging out of your pocket, I got the idea you might be kinky and wanted to beat me with it.’

Vin pulled into a parking bay.

‘Would you like that?’

‘I’ve never tried it. Maybe.’

He took the lead from her and stuffed it into his pocket.

‘I don’t dig for that stuff.’ His voice was husky. ‘Still, if you want to try . . .’

She laughed.

‘I’ll survive without it. Check in, Superman. Let’s talk business. I’m hungry.’

By now the fat Negro in charge of the office had come to know Vin. He had never seen Judy as she always remained in the car while Vin checked in. Seeing Vin come into the office, the Negro glanced through the window, saw the Jaguar and then grinned at Vin.

‘Evening, sir.’ He pushed the register towards Vin. ‘Nice seeing you again. I’ve got your usual cabin free.’

‘Fine.’ Vin signed the register as Steve Hamish. ‘We won’t be long, Jerry. Just a couple of hours.’

‘You stay as long or as short as you like, Mr. Hamish.’

Vin gave him a five-dollar bill, then taking the key the Negro offered him, he returned to the Jaguar.

‘All set . . . the usual,’ he said, opening the car door.

They walked together to the cabin and as soon as they were inside, Vin shot the bolt.

Judy wandered over to the bed and sat on it.

‘So you sent the girl to find the stamps,’ she said. ‘Did she find them?’

Vin went to the refrigerator. He felt in need of a drink.

‘Scotch?’

‘Yes . . . did she find them?’

He poured the Scotch into two glasses, then turned.

‘You give and then I’ll give,’ he said and carried the drink over to her. ‘What’s the name of the buyer?’ He offered the glass and stood over her. ‘You tell me that and I’ll tell you if she found the stamps.’

She took the glass and smiled up at him.

‘When you have the stamps and when you have shown them to me I’ll tell you the name of the buyer. We’ve gone over this routine before . . . remember? But in case you are suffering from amnesia, I take the stamps to the buyer, collect the money and pay you off . . . remember? We have also gone over that routine before.’

Vin took a long pull at his glass. So he would have to take action, he thought. Well, okay, she couldn’t say she hadn’t asked for it. He would have to get her off her guard, then slam a punch at her jaw. He mustn’t make a mistake. He would have to knock her cold with the first punch or else the bitch would start yelling her head off.

‘She knows where he keeps them,’ he said, moving away from the bed. He sat down in a nearby chair. ‘I can get them. I’ll try tomorrow night.’

‘How did she do it?’

He shrugged.

‘Don’t worry about that . . . she did it and I’ll get them tomorrow night.’

She sipped her drink, regarding him over the rim of the glass.

‘Do you read gangster stories, Superman?’

He gaped at her. She was always asking unexpected questions that threw him.

‘No . . . I watch TV. I don’t read books.’

‘I read a gangster book the other night,’ she said. ‘It was about a brainless moron who was hired to kill people. Guess how he killed them?’

Vin put his glass down on the occasional table. Her steady, probing stare brought him out into a sweat.

‘Who the hell cares? Let’s talk business.’

‘I thought you might have read the book. It’s called, Dollars are for Dames’

‘I don’t read books.’

‘That’s right . . . you told me. Well, this moron carried a dog lead around with him. He strangled people with it.’

Suddenly Vin could smell his own sweat A quick jump across to her, his fingers on her throat to throttle back her scream, then a slam on the jaw. Once he had got her gagged and bound, he would teach her to act tricky with him. He braced himself. One quick jump. He could hear yells and gunfire from the TV in the next cabin. Even if she did yell before he could shut her mouth, no one would pay any attention.

‘Are you married, Superman?’ Judy asked, nursing her drink.

This question so surprised Vin’s slow working mind that he paused as he prepared himself for his spring forward.

‘Married?’ He gaped at her. ‘No . . . why the hell do you keep asking stupid questions?’

‘Are you sure you haven’t a jealous wife?’ Her eyes were mocking now.

‘What’s with it?’ He got to his feet and began to move casually towards her. ‘I haven’t a goddamn wife.’ Three more steps and he would be within range.

‘Then why are these two men following us?’ Judy asked. ‘I thought they were private dicks after divorce evidence.’

Vin felt as if he had walked into a wall. A wave of cold blood rushed up his spine. It was only at this moment that he remembered Elliot’s warning to watch out that he wasn’t followed. He remembered that Joey and Cindy had said they had been tailed.

‘Following us?’ His voice was strangled. ‘What do you mean?’

His expression of fear, vicious frustration and alarm seemed to amuse her. She giggled. ‘They followed us last night and they followed us tonight.’ She put her head on one side and looked cute. ‘Didn’t you spot them, Superman?’

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ he snarled.