“I’m not trying to tell you anything. All this is yours and mine until they find out he’s dead.
That’s a fact, isn’t it, Johnny?”
“Yeah, I guess that’s right, but there’s still the half million. You make it sound as if that
was nothing. It’ll buy something, won’t it?”
“Do you think it could buy the casino and all that goes with it?”
“I guess not, but it could buy this car and a lot of other things.”
“Have you thought how long a quarter of a million would last you, Johnny?”
“I’d invest it. It’d pay off a respectable income. What are you getting at?”
“You wouldn’t have a lot left to invest by the time you had bought a car, a house and a
wardrobe. I know I wouldn’t.”
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“What’s on your mind?” I asked, sure now she was preparing the ground for something. “I
thought all you wanted was the half million.”
“Turn right at the gates and then follow the main road,” she said, and leaned forward to
wave to the guards who were opening the gates. “Nothing’s on my mind - yet. I’m wondering
how we’ll feel in a year or so, knowing Reisner’s the boss of Lincoln Beach, and you and I
have only a lump sum that’ll melt like snow in the sun, and not a chance of making any
more.”
“Now, wait a minute,” I said. “We’re talking about half a million. That’s not going to melt
all that fast. You’re exaggerating, and besides, we haven’t even got that yet.”
“That’s right, Johnny.”
I couldn’t figure out what she was getting at, but I didn’t like her tone nor the hard look in
her eyes.
“We’re going to Bay Street,” she said, opening her bag for a cigarette. “Ever heard of Bay
Street?”
“No. What’s special about it?”
“Paul built every brick of it. They call it the Kasbah of Florida. I don’t know what the take
is, but I do know Paul collects fifteen per cent, and it’s free of tax.”
“This husband of yours must have been quite a guy.”
“He was. None of the others have the magic touch Paul had.”
Eventually we arrived at Bay Street: a misnomer to call it a street. Actually it was no better
than an alley, about a hundred yards long and scarcely wide enough to take two cars - but
what an alley!
I had thought the honky-tonk district of Pittsburgh was an eye-opener, but it had nothing on
Bay Street. Packed shoulder to shoulder, amid blatant signs that left nothing to the imagination, were burlesque bars, saloons, palaces of peel, gambling-dens, brothels, a couple of
dubious looking hotels, restaurants and gin dives.
“Pull over to the parking-lot,” Della said. “We’ll walk.”
“You mean Wertham owns this as well as the casino?” I asked, as I drove into the lot and
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cut the engine.
“He leases it to a syndicate with a controlling interest. He knew sooner or later the
millionaires, their wives and girl friends would get tired of the luxury of the casino. So he
created Bay Street where they could work off their repressions, and he could still make
money out of them. Handled properly, vice pays dividends, and nowhere is it better handled
than here.”
We walked across the street to a large building plastered with neon lights and crude, life-size pictures of half- dressed showgirls.
“Liberty Inn,” Della said. “It’s run by Zoe Eisner. She’s big people in Bay Street. You’d
better come in and meet her. And, Johnny, remember you’re big people, too. Ricca is well
