shock to me.
“Hello, handsome,” she said, and put her hand on my shoulder. “Remember me?”
She was wearing a pair of linen slacks and a halter. Her cute, pert little face was flushed,
and the whites of her eyes were bloodshot.
I got up. Ricca got up too. Della watched me, the way a cat watches a mouse. I had an idea
I was heading for trouble.
“Is there anything I can do?” I asked stiffly.
“Sure.” Her fingers gripped my coat to steady herself. “That’s why I’m here.”
“You know Mrs. Wertham?” I said. “This is Jack Ricca. Ricca, I’d like you to meet Miss
Harris Brown.”
Ricca bowed, but she ignored him.
“I thought you were Ricca,” she said.
“So I am. He’s my cousin, on my father’s side.”
“It surprises me a louse like you had a father,” she said.
The words hung in empty space. I didn’t say anything. Ricca didn’t say anything. Della lit a
cigarette.
“Hello, bastard,” Miss Harris Brown went on.
I was aware Ricca was watching me with interest. Della’s face had gone pale, but she
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didn’t make a move. They were my cards, and I had to play them.
“What do you want?” I said.
Della and Ricca weren’t the only two looking at me now. Everyone on the terrace was
looking.
She pushed her breasts out at me, and her red-painted lips curved into a smile that was as
vicious as her eyes.
“I want to know who the whore is you’re going around with,” she said. “The pretty little
trollop with red hair. The one you take to your rooms on Franklin Boulevard. The one you
slop over at Raul’s. Who is she?”
I went hot, then cold. My brain closed up. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out of it.
Ricca said, “She’s his sister by his mother’s side. Now go away, you drunken little fool.
Your eyes are watery, your nose is red, and you’ve got a stinking, rotten breath.”
Someone in the audience laughed.
Miss Harris Brown collapsed like a pricked balloon.
I watched her run across the terrace, down the steps and towards her cabin. Then I looked at
Ricca.
“It was easier for me to do it,” he said, “but if I spoke out of turn, I’m sorry.”
“Thanks,” I said. “She was drunk.”
Then I looked at Della.
“Where’s Raul’s Johnny?” she asked, smiling, but her eyes were like chips of ice. “Or
shouldn’t I ask?”
“You heard what I said: she was drunk.”
“We get them like that in Los Angeles,” Ricca said soothingly. “You don’t have to pay any
attention to them. They are kind of crazy in the head.”
Della got up.
“Jack and I are going over to Bay Street,” she said, without looking at me. “We’ll be seeing
you.”
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She walked down the steps towards her car.
Ricca patted my arm.
“Women are funny animals,” he said, “and she’s no exception.”
It might have been Reisner talking.
“Don’t let it bother you, Johnny.”
He went after her, and his smile was a mile wide.
VII
I sat at my desk, a cigarette smouldering between my fingers, my brain busy. The writing
was on the wall. I didn’t kid myself I could bluff Della. She was too smart. By tonight she
would have found out about Ginny, my apartment on Franklin Boulevard and Raul’s. Then
would come the show-down.
She wouldn’t have to give me away to Hame. She’d team up with Ricca and let him take
care of me. This was my out. I had to skip before it was too late.
I twisted around in my chair and looked at the safe. Behind that heavy steel door was a
bundle of money belonging to me. If I could get to it, I hadn’t a worry in the world. But I
hadn’t a hope of opening that door without the combination.
For nearly four weeks I had sat around hoping the combination would drop in my lap. I
now had three hours, possibly four, to get it if I was ever going to get it.
I wouldn’t get it from Della: I was sure of that. Then who else knew it beside Della? For
the first time I really began to bend
my brains on the problem. Reisner had known it, but he was dead. The firm who made the
safe would know it, but they wouldn’t part with the informarion. Would Louis know it? There
was a chance he might. I picked up the telephone and called his office.
“Louis? This is Ricca. I’ve got a problem. Mr. Van Etting is in my office. He wants to cash
a cheque in a hurry. Mrs. Wertham’s out. You wouldn’t know the combination of the safe?”
I did it well. My voice was business-like, but casual.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Ricca, but I do not know it,” Louis said, and from the sound of his voice he
would have told me if he had known it.
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“Aw, hell!” I said. “What am I going to do? This guy’s getting in a rage.”
“Maybe you could reach Mrs. Wertham,” Louis said. “She may be at Bay Street.”
“I’ve already tried. She’s not around. You haven’t three thousand bucks in your office,
have you?”
He said he never kept big sums in his office.
“Okay, forget it, Louis. Sorry to have bothered you. I guess Mr. Van Etting will have to get
into a rage.”
I wasn’t disappointed. It had been a hunch, and it hadn’t come off. I was about to replace
the receiver when he said, “If Miss Doering had been with us she could have told you.”
Miss Doering? I stared at the opposite wall. Reisner’s secretary ! Della had given her the
sack. She had been furious with her for calling Hame when Reisner hadn’t shown up.
I gripped the receiver until my hand ached.
“Did Miss Doering know the combination ?”
“Why, yes, Mr. Ricca. When Mr. Reisner was out she took care of the money.”
“Well, she isn’t here,” I said, making out I wasn’t interested any more. “Never mind.
Forget it, Louis, and thanks.”
I hung up and sat thinking for a moment or so, then I grabbed the telephone again and got
through to the staff supervisor.
“This is Ricca. Can you give me Miss Doering’s address?”
She asked me to hold on. The minute I had to wait seemed like an hour.
“247c Coral Boulevard.”
“Got her phone number?”
Another wait.
“Lincoln Beach 18577.”
“Thanks,” I said, broke the connection, paused long enough to wipe the sweat off my face,
then got on the phone again.
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“Get me Lincoln Beach 18577.”
I hadn’t had any previous dealings with Miss Doering. Della had handled her, and from
what she had told me, she had handled her pretty roughly. I had seen her, and she had seen
me. I had given her a smile now and then because she was a looker. I had no idea what she
thought of me, and I knew I couldn’t put this across over the telephone. I had to see her.
The line clicked and buzzed, then a woman said, “Hello?”
“Miss Doering?”
“I guess so.”
“This is Johnny Ricca. I want to see you. I could be with you in fifteen minutes. How about
it?”
There was a pause, then she said, “What about?”
“If I told you that I shouldn’t see you, and I want to see you. Okay for me to come over?”
“If that’s the way you feel about it.”
“I’m on my way.”
I walked out of the office, along the corridor to the elevator. I rode down to the ground
floor and tramped across the lobby to the terrace. Someone spoke to me, but I didn’t look to
see who it was. I kept right on. The Buick was waiting at the foot of the terrace. I got in and
drove down the carriageway. The guards opened the gates as soon as they saw me. I was
doing seventy before I hit the highway.
247 Coral Boulevard was a sprawling mansion that had been converted into apartments. I