The Complete Crime Stories by James M. Cain Read Free Book Online Page B

give a damn.
    But all he did was blink.
    â€œWhat’re you after?” I asked him again.
    â€œDough, Mister. Just dough.”
    â€œHow much?”
    â€œHow much you got?”
    I took out my wallet, squeezed it to show how thick it was, and began dealing out tens, dropping them on the cocktail table. When I’d let eight bills fall, I stopped. “That’ll do it,” I said.
    â€œHey,” he said, “you got more.”
    â€œI think you’ll settle for this.”
    â€œAnd what gives you that idea?”
    â€œWell,” I said, taking my time, “I figure you for tinhorn chiselers, a pair that’ll sell out cheap. It’s worth a hundred—this eighty and the twenty I already gave her, when I’m sure she’ll tell you about—to get you out of here. I’ll just charge it to lessons in life. But for more, I’d just as soon crack it open. You want this money or not?”
    It wasn’t all just talk. From Maria’s eyes as she watched the bills, I knew that for some reason they worried her. She looked at them a second, and then said to me, “Will you please bring me my uniform, Mr. Hull? Like a nice fellow?”
    I didn’t know why I was being got rid of, but when I went into the bedroom and had a peep through the crack in the door, Maria was down on her knees at the table, holding my tens to the light, looking for the punctures that are sometimes put on marked money. Bill was grumbling at her, but she grumbled back, and I heard her say, “Mademoiselle Zita.”
    When I heard Zita’s name, I saw red. I made up my mind I’d get to the bottom of this if I had to take the place apart piece by piece. The big problem was how. I sat down on the edge of the bed, and the more I thought about it the madder I got. I glared down at Maria’s uniform lying there on the bed beside me, and called her a few choice names under my breath. And then, still glaring at the uniform, I suddenly knew I had it. That uniform was going to be good for something besides showing off Maria’s legs.
    I grabbed the uniform off the bed, went to the window and threw it out. Then I went back to the sitting room. Maria was still on her knees at the table.
    â€œLady,” I said, “if you want a uniform, you tell Mademoiselle Zita to bring it up here. Call her, and make it quick. Somebody else won’t do. I want to talk to her .”
    â€œOh,” I said. “That.”
    â€œGive it to me!” she said. “You took it. You—”
    â€œWell, no, Maria, I didn’t,” I said. “Not that I wouldn’t have taken it. Not that you misjudge my character. I’m just that greedy. And just that mean. I didn’t remember it, that’s all.”
    â€œAh!” she said. “Ah!” She was standing with her feet spread apart and her hands on her hips. I’d never seen a nude woman so completely unconscious of her body as this one was.
    Bill came over from the window and slapper her—to make her pipe down with the racket, I suppose—and suddenly I realized I’d pulled a damn good stunt. It was now a question of who was trapped. All three of us were, of course, except that I didn’t care any more if the cops barged in or not. I didn’t care, but they did.
    â€œGet on that phone,” I told Maria, “because you don’t get out till Zita comes—unless you go with the cops.”
    â€œCall,” Bill told her. “You got to.”
    He went to the phone in the foyer, put in the call, and gave Maria the receiver. She talked a long time in Hungarian, and then she hung up and came back into the living room. “She’ll be here,” she said. “She’ll bring me something to wear. And now, Mr. Hull, give me that money you threw out with my—”
    I clipped her on the jaw, and I didn’t pull the punch. Bill caught her as she fell, which was his big mistake. I