Vin’s eyes narrowed.
‘Double cross? What the hell do you mean?’
‘Don’t let’s waste time. Get the name of the buyer. I’ll give you a thousand dollars for Judy. Get the name tonight then you and I will go to Larrimore’s house and get the stamps, but I’m going to deal with the buyer.’
For a long moment, Vin stood staring at Elliot. This was so unexpected, his brain couldn’t cope with it. Controlling his fury, and realizing he would have to give himself time to think, he shrugged.
‘Okay, okay, no one’s asking you to trust me. I’ll get the buyer’s name, but you don’t come with me, buster. This is a job for experts and I don’t work with amateurs.’
‘Get the name,’ Elliot said quietly, ‘then we’ll talk about the rest of it.’
Vin looked at Cindy.
‘Are you going to tell me the number, baby?’
Cindy shook her head.
Vin grinned evilly at her.
‘Sure? You’d better be sure. You could be sorry later.’
She stared at him unflinchingly.
‘I’m sure.’
‘Okay.’
He turned and walked out of the bungalow and down to his car.
‘We’d better tell him,’ Joey said fearfully. ‘He could do something to Cindy.’
‘We don’t have to tell him,’ Cindy said and opened her bag. ‘I’ve got the stamps.’
Seven
There was a long moment of silence as Elliot and Joey watched Cindy take a plastic envelope from her bag and lay it on the table.
‘These are the stamps, aren’t they?’
His heart beating fast, his breathing uneven, Elliot looked at the eight stamps through their plastic cover. He recognized them immediately from the photocopy that Kendrick had shown him.
‘Yes.’ His voice was husky. He straightened and looked at Cindy. ‘Why did you take them, you crazy kid? As soon as Larrimore finds they are missing, he’ll call the police. They’ll come here! We wrote to him and he knows this address! What were you thinking of?’
‘I don’t think he will call the police,’ Cindy said.
‘Why do you say that?’
She sat down abruptly and looked so pale, Joey rushed to the liquor cabinet and began to pour a brandy.
‘No, daddy... I don’t want it,’ she protested. ‘I’m all right.’ Joey regarded her, stared at the brandy in the glass and then swallowed it himself.
‘Why do you say he won’t tell the police?’ Elliot repeated, sitting at the table and facing her.
‘There was a letter in the drawer with the stamps,’ Cindy told him. ‘It was from the Central Intelligence Agency, Washington. It said it was an offence to have these stamps and the owner would be prosecuted if he didn’t notify the C.I.A. if he had them. The letter was dated two months ago. They said the maximum sentence would be three years and a fine of thirty thousand dollars. When I read that I saw Mr. Larrimore couldn’t complain to the police without getting into trouble... so I took them.’
‘The C.I.A.?’ Elliot’s voice shot up a note.
‘Yes.’
‘Suppose you tell us just what happened, Cindy.’
She drew in a deep breath, then said, ‘I arrived at the house and Mr. Larrimore took me into the stamp room. He was nice and kind. He told me to sit down and he looked through the stamp album. The only stamps that interested him were the ones dad had bought. He said they might be worth three hundred dollars. Then just as I was wondering how I could get the index from him, he took it from his pocket and looked at it. Then he took me over to one of the drawers and showed me other stamps in the same series as the ones in the album. He left the book on his desk. It was so easy. He asked me if I would leave the stamp album with him. I got a little behind him, opened my bag and gave you the signal. Then you phoned. He excused himself and left me in the room. I found the drawer number in the index. I could hear him talking to you so I went to the drawer and found the stamps. Then I saw the letter. He was still talking to you so I read it. It seemed to me that if I took the stamps he couldn’t call the police... so I took them.’
‘For Pete’s sake!’ Elliot leaned forward and took her hand. ‘That was quick thinking, but he could tell the police.’
‘I don’t think he will,’ Cindy said. ‘Anyway, it’s worth the risk. Now, you don’t have to break in.’
‘You shouldn’t have done it,’ Joey said, his voice quavering. ‘You should have left it to Don and Vin.’
‘We have them,’ Cindy said.
‘We can’t keep them here.’ Elliot paused to think. ‘Joey take them right away to the Chase National Bank. Buy an envelope, write your name on it and put the stamps in it. Rent a safe deposit box. Get going, Joey! If the police come here and find them we’re sunk.’
Joey nodded. Picking up the plastic envelope he put it in his pocket.
‘What shall I do with the key?’
‘Bring it back here. We’ll hide it some place.’
When Joey had gone, Elliot regarded Cindy.
‘You shouldn’t have done it, Cindy.’
She smiled at him.
‘I just couldn’t bear the thought of you going with Vin into that house. Vin’s dangerous. Once he got the stamps, he might have done something to you.’
‘But why is the CIA. interested?’ Elliot said. ‘Was it a personal letter to Larrimore?’
‘It was a circular letter addressed to philatelists.’
‘And it said it was an offence to hold the stamps?’
‘Yes.’
Elliot didn’t like this.
‘I don’t understand it, but it looks as if the temptation to keep such rare stamps was too much for Larrimore.’ He thought, then nodded. ‘Yes, I think you’re right. He would be asking for trouble if he complained to the police.’ He stared uneasily at Cindy. ‘But why the C.I.A.?’
‘Perhaps we’d better not try to sell them,’ Cindy said.
‘They’re safe for the moment. Let’s find out who the buyer is before we make up our minds. And not a word about this to Vin.’ Elliot got up and coining around the table, he put his arms around her. ‘You’ve done a marvellous job, Cindy.’
She put her head against his shoulder and clung to him.
Barney had been talking now non-stop, apart from eating and drinking, for the past two hours. The time was after 23.00 and the Neptune bar was now lined with fishermen, noisy in their demands for beer and Sam, the barman, was being kept busy.
Barney paused to regard the backs of the men as they leaned on the bar and his fat face wore an expression of disapproval.
‘Fishermen!’ he said scornfully. ‘No good riff-raff. You take my word for it, Mr. Campbell. They spend all their nights drinking when they should be home keeping their wives and children company.’
I asked him if he was married.
‘I know better, mister,’ he said. ‘The thing I object to about marriage is a guy never gets a chance to talk and if there’s one thing I like — excluding beer — it’s talking.’
I said I could understand that.
‘Yeah.’ He paused to wave his empty glass in Sam’s direction. ‘You take these men over there. All they think about is money, women and drinking. I’ve never been mercenary. If you offered me a million dollars I wouldn’t take it. I wouldn’t know what to do with it. What the hell does a man want with a million dollars?’
I could have told him, but I got the impression he wouldn’t be interested. He paused while Sam rushed a beer to his table, then went on, ‘But this Vin Pinna I’m telling you about had the itch to get his hands on this million Judy Larrimore had told him about. He had the itch the same way as a dog gets the itch for a lady dog every now and again if you’ll excuse the comparison. Now Vin had been brought up in a tough world. I don’t say he didn’t know better, but knowing better and doing better are two different things... right, Mr. Campbell?’