dreamed of making.
“You’re lying,” I said.
“Sit down. We haven’t much time, but enough for me to explain the set-up to you. Go on,
Johnny, sit down and listen.”
I sat down. She sat a few yards from me, the gun in her lap, the moonlight on her face, and
in spite of her dishevelled hair and the streak of blood down the side of her nose, she still
looked lovely.
Speaking rapidly, she told me the dead man was Paul Wertham, a big-time gambler, the
owner of three casinos.
“He’s the head of an organization worth millions,” she said. “The moment it’s known he’s
dead, the vultures will move in and grab. He has a manager for each casino. They’d grab
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everything and leave me to whistle for my share. But so long as they think he’s alive,” it can
be handled. That’s the set-up. I can’t handle it on my own. I can handle it with your help. The
take is half a million, and you’ll get half of it: two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. It’s
easy. All you want is nerve, and if you do what I tell you, we can’t go wrong.”
That was my cue to say no: when I should have walked away and taken the chance of
getting a slug in the back; when I should have remembered what Tom Roche had said about
big and sudden money leading to trouble.
But I didn’t say no. I suddenly realized she was deadly serious. She actually meant half a
million, and I started to think what that much money could buy.
“How can you keep his death quiet?” I asked. “How long do you think it’ll be before they
find out?”
Then she smiled and relaxed because she knew I was on the hook and all she had to do was
to hit the line to sink the barb in too deep for me to jump off.
“We have only to keep it quiet for three or four days: not longer; and the money’s ours. It’s
as easy as that.” “Go on; keep talking.”
“Each casino has a large cash reserve in case there’s a run on the bank. The casino at
Lincoln Beach caters for millionaires. The reserve there is half a million in cash. Each casino
is in charge of a manager. Jack Ricca runs the Los Angeles place. Nick Reisner takes care of
Lincoln Beach, and Pete Levinsky, the Paris end.” She was leaning forward, speaking fast
and softly, and I didn’t miss a word of what she was saying. “Paul was going to Paris when
he was tipped that Reisner was dipping into the reserve to cover his own gambling losses. He
had to act fast. The Paris trip was important so he arranged for Ricca to go to Lincoln Beach.
He phoned Reisner and told him Ricca was on his way and was to have access to the books.
But at the last moment Ricca went on a drinking jag. Every so often he gets the urge and
hides himself away with a crate of whisky, and that’s all anyone knows about him until he
reappears again. Paul had to cancel his Paris trip. There was no time to tell Reisner he was
coming in Ricca’s place. He and I were on our way when we stopped at Pelotta to watch the
fights.” She reached out and put her hand on my knee. “Reisner doesn’t know Paul was
coming in place of Ricca, and Reisner has never seen Ricca. You’re going to be Ricca for just
as long as it takes us to collect that reserve. That’s the set-up. How do you like it?”
I sat looking at her.
“And my cut will be a quarter of a million?”
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“Yes, Johnny, word of honour. There can be no blowback to this. I’ve as much right to it as
Reisner has. I have more right to it. Every nickel of it belongs to Paul. If he had made a will
he would have left it to me.”
“Can we get away with it?”
“Yes. It just needs nerve.”
