1956 - There's Always a Price Tag (6 page)

'You should care. Patsy can handle it. This is important. You know as well as I do it would take you a month of hard grind to make five hundred in your business. I'm offering you that amount for a few days’ work.'

'Yeah, it sounds fine, but when do I get the dough?'

'If I pull this trick you'll get it. If I don't pull it, then we're both unlucky.'

'And in the meantime I've had to pay out for a trip to New York.'

'For the love of mike! If that's the way you feel about it, then let's skip it.'

He took a long pull from his glass.

'I don't like any of it. That sort of racket could land us both in jail.'

'What sort of racket?' I said, staring at him.

'You know what I mean. Don't pull a little Eva on me.'

'What are you worrying about? All I'm asking you to do is to supply me with some information. In return for the information I'll give you five C's, and your fare. You don't know why I want the information or where the five C's have come from. How can it get you into trouble?'

He turned this over in his mind. It seemed to soothe him. 'But what about you? You could…'

'I can look after myself. Are you going to handle the job or aren't you?'

He shrugged.

'Well, okay, I'll see what I can dig up. If I get you the information I don't want to know how you're going to use it. You've got to keep me out of trouble.'

'I'll do that. Will you get off tomorrow morning? I want this dope fast, and when I say fast, I mean fast.'

He finished his drink and got to his feet.

'You'll get it. I'll call you. What's your number?'

'No. I'll call you. I'll call you at nine o'clock on Friday morning at your apartment. Okay?'

'Yeah, but watch your step. I don't think you realize how serious this could be for you. I hope you know what you are doing.'

I grinned at him.

* * *

After Solly had gone, I had a quick supper and then took the bus back to the Desters' residence.

The Cadillac had gone. With Helen out of the way, I thought it might pay dividends to see how Dester was getting along.

He was lying in bed. A bottle of Scotch and a glass half-full of whisky stood on the night table. He was looking towards me, his face set, his eyes bloodshot. He had a .38 automatic in his hand. I saw it distinctly before he slid his hand and the gun out of sight under the sheet.

'What do you want?' he said, his voice harsh. 'Can't you knock before you come in?'

The sight of the gun rattled me, and I wondered if he knew Helen was waiting for him to die. Was he scared of her? Did he have the gun handy as a protection against attack?

'I'm sorry, sir,' I said, standing in the doorway. 'I thought you might be sleeping. I just wanted to know if you were going out tonight.'

I saw him relax. 'Come in, kid,' he said. 'I won't be going out tonight. I'm not feeling too well.'

I shut the door and moved to the foot of the bed. It gave me a queer feeling to look at this man who I knew, dead, was worth three-quarters of a million dollars.

'Has Mrs. Dester gone out?' he asked abruptly, reaching for his glass.

'Yes, sir; at least the Cadillac's gone.'

'She didn't say where she was going?'

'No, sir.'

He finished the whisky and splashed more into his glass. His hand was so unsteady he spilt some of the whisky on the sheet.

'I think you should know that Mrs. Dester doesn't want me here,' I went on. 'She has told me twice to go.'

He smiled: a hard, bitter smile. 'That doesn't surprise me, kid. You take your orders from me.'

'Yes, sir.'

'Pay no attention to what she says. I want you here; I want you to handle the Rolls.'

'Yes, sir.'

He lay back against the pillow, staring at me. 'Are you married, kid?'

'No, sir.'

'You're smart. Don't ever marry. I wouldn't be a goddamn drunk if I had kept clear of marriage.' He made a movement with his hand. 'She's lovely, isn't she? All a man could want. You wouldn't think a woman as beautiful as she is could be colder than an iceberg, would you? But she is. There is only one thing she ever thinks about and that's money. Are you interested in money?'

I had to lick my lips before saying, 'Who isn't?'

'Yes, but there are degrees of interest. I'm interested in money too, but I don't live for it. She does.' He drank some more whisky. 'She's waiting for me to die. She thinks she'll come into a lot of money when I'm dead.' He laughed; it wasn't a pleasant sound. 'But she's going to get a shock. All she's going to get is a parcel of debts. That's all. I'm going to see to that.'

I didn't say anything, but I was listening. I told myself this could only mean the premium was about due and he wasn't going to renew the policy.

Suddenly he seemed to realize what he had been saying. His face hardened and he shouted at me, 'Don't stand there staring at me! Go away! I want to be alone, and don't come in here without knocking again.'

Well, the visit to his room may not have paid off in dividends, but it certainly gave me something to think about.

* * *

Punctually at half past ten the next morning, Dester came from the house down to the car. He seemed comparatively sober, but his face was fine drawn, and there were dark circles around his eyes. He moved slowly as if he wasn't quite sure of his footing.

'I'm not going to the studios this morning,' he said as he climbed into the car. 'Take me to the airport. I'm catching the half past eleven plane to San Francisco.'

'Yes, sir,' I said.

Why was he going to San Francisco? I wondered as I drove to the airport. I remembered the Head Office of the National Fidelity Assurance Company was in San Francisco. I would have given a lot to have asked him right out what he was going to do, but that wouldn't have got me anything but the gate.

I pulled up outside the airport entrance, got out of the car and held the door open for him.

'I'll be at the studios around four o'clock, kid,' he said. 'Pick me up there.' He sat still looking at me, then he went on, 'How are you off for money?'

Although I was surprised, I said fast enough, 'Well, sir, I'm a little hard up right now. If you could…'

I stopped and let the rest of the sentence hang in the air.

He smiled. 'What did I say I'd pay you?'

'Fifty, sir.'

He took a chequebook from his pocket. Then he looked at me, his smile turning bitter.

'You'd better cash in, kid, while there's something left. It won't be long now before the rest of them are after it.' He wrote out a cheque and handed it to me. 'That's a year's salary. Don't walk out on me now, will you? Stick with me until the smash comes. It won't be long.'

I looked at the cheque, scarcely believing my eyes. He had made it out for two thousand, six hundred dollars.

'You'd better cash it fast,' he went on. 'Don't hang on to it. First come, first served. In a few days there won't be a nickel left.'

'Yes, sir,' I said, 'but I hope this doesn't mean…' I left it hanging because I didn't want a snub.

'It means exactly this,' he said, smiling at me. 'My contract runs out on Saturday, and it isn't going to be renewed. Don't you read the gossip columns? It's no secret. I'm washed-up. I'm a drunk, kid, and no one wants a drunk these days. That means on Saturday I stay home. I owe money everywhere. They'll sell me up. The house, the cars: everything will go. I'm up to my eyes in debts. So long as I remain chief producer of the Pacific Picture Corporation, my creditors will hold off because they always hope for a miracle, but at the end of the week, when I've quit, they'll move in like a flock of vultures.' He got out of the car and stood staring up at the blue sky, feeling the sun on his face. 'What do I care? I've had fun. I've travelled. I've owned a Rolls. I've married the loveliest woman in Hollywood. What more can a guy want? Now it's time to pay up: that's okay. I'll pay what I can, and they'll have to whistle for the rest of it.' He put his hand on my shoulder and gently rocked me to and fro, not looking at me, but beyond me, his mouth in a hard, bitter smile. 'And she's going to be one of them who'll have to whistle. That's the only way I can get even with her for leading me the life she has led me. Even now I would get down on hands and knees and lick her shoes for one kind word from her.' He shifted his eyes so he looked right at me. 'Corny dialogue, isn't it, kid? Right out of a B picture. Listen, I've never struck a spark from her: not once. What was it Hemingway said? The earth never moved for us. Know what I mean? Loving her was as sordid and as horrifying as loving a dead body.' He turned abruptly and walked into the reception hall.

I got back into the car, lit a cigarette and drove slowly down the drive-in and on to the highway. To get his tragic, hopeless face out of my mind I forced myself to think of the three hundred and fifty grand I might pick up if he died. But somehow I didn't get a bang out of it as I should have done.

I had snapped out of my mood by the time I got into town. At least I now had something for my trouble. Two thousand six hundred dollars wasn't a bad start. I parked the car and took out his cheque and looked to see where his bank was. I was going to take his advice and cash the cheque right now.

The teller at Dester's bank looked surprised when I pushed the cheque across the counter. He went away to the back and I saw him checking a ledger. Finally he convinced himself and he paid over the money.

I took it to a bank across the way and opened an account for myself. It was nice to own a chequebook again.

I drove back to the house, changed out of my uniform and, having nothing better to do, I got out the big power-mower and settled down to a long spell of lawn cutting.

It wasn't until after one o'clock when I decided I'd better dig up some lunch for myself that I saw Helen coming from the house.

She came to the edge of the lawn and waited. I manoeuvred the mower so that I should pass close to her and as I came up to her I cut the engine.

'Did you want me, madam?'

'I want you to take me to the Palm Grove Club tonight and then pick me up at one o'clock. Mr. Dester won't be going out.'

I met her eyes and I got a shock. The hostility I had expected to see wasn't there. Instead the green eyes were warm.

'I don't like driving at night,' she went on. 'You needn't wear your uniform, Nash. As you will have a long wait, you might care to take in a movie or something.'

I was so surprised I just stared at her.

'And, Nash, since you insist on staying here, it might be amusing for both of us if we become more amicable.'

The long, slow look she gave me could only mean one thing. I've kicked around long enough with all kinds of women not to recognize that look and the invitation that lay behind it.

'Yes, madam,' I said.

She suddenly smiled, and the smile made her look younger and even more lovely.

My heart was pounding as I watched her walk away towards the garage.

chapter four

I
have a way with women: some men have. It's a talent. You've either got it or you haven't, and you soon know if you have it. I found I had it when I was a kid of fifteen. I'm thirty-three now, and during those eighteen years I may not have been a ball of fire in anything else I did, but I did have a lot of success with women.

So this sudden change in Helen's attitude didn't come as a complete surprise: it had just come quicker than I thought it was going to come, but I had had no doubt that sooner or later it would come. My confidence was based on experience. It was because other women, some as hostile as Helen, had suddenly capitulated at the most unexpected time, that I wasn't suspicious of this move of Helen's as I might have been.

Around three o'clock I took the Rolls down town and parked it, then I went to an outfitters who were showing some reasonably priced, but well-cut suits and got myself a complete outfit. I'm easy to fit, and the pin-head grey I finally selected could have been made for me. I bought a white nylon shirt, a snappy tie, socks and a pair of reverse calf shoes. While the stuff was being parcelled, I went over to my bank, drew out enough to cover the bill and went back to the outfitters and settled up.

I put the parcel in the boot of the Rolls. By that time it was coming up for four. I drove over to the studios for Dester.

He wasn't as drunk as I hoped he would be, although he was drunk enough. But there was no chance to get at the insurance policy.

'Come in, kid,' he said as I knocked on the door that stood open. 'There's some stuff I want you to put in the car.'

In a corner were a couple of suitcases and tied up with string were the fifteen empty leather folders.

As I went over to them, he turned to the filing cabinet, opened the second drawer and took out the policy. I watched him out of the corner of my eye as he looked at it, then he put it in the inside pocket of his jacket.

That was that. He would probably lock it up in the wall safe I had noticed in his bedroom. I had had my chance when I had first looked at it. It didn't seem as if I would get another chance to examine it.

I put the suitcases in the boot alongside my parcel and returned to the office.

'Is that the lot, sir?'

'For the time being,' he said and opened the big wall closet. There were about three dozen full bottles of whisky standing on one of the shelves: the rest of the shelves were lined with empty bottles. At a guess there would be close on a hundred of them. 'I'll take the full ones on Friday,' he went on. 'I'll leave the empty ones. They can be my epitaph. Let's go.'

'I understand you won't be needing me tonight, sir,' I said as I opened the car door. 'Mrs. Dester asked me to drive her to the Palm Grove.'

'Did she?' He stared at me. 'How odd. I wonder why. She likes to drive herself. Now I wonder why she wants you to take her to the Palm Grove?'

I wondered too. 'She said something about not caring to drive in the dark,' I said.

'Did she say that? Well, well, but never mind. What does it matter? No, I won't want you tonight. I have some writing to do.'