What`s Better Than Money?

CHAPTER FOUR

I

Dr. Weinborg was a tall, stoop-shouldered man with a big hooked nose, a sensitive mouth and the dark, limpid eyes of a Jew who has known suffering.

As soon as I told the nurse at the reception desk my name, she had taken me immediately to Dr.

Weinborg’s office. Now I was sitting, facing him and listening to his guttural voice as he said, ‘It’s a matter of time, Mr. Halliday. I have done everything possible for your wife – anyway, for the immediate present. It was unfortunate that you were away when she was admitted. For twelve hours or so she was conscious and she was asking for you. She is now unconscious. It depends on a number of factors if she will regain consciousness. This is something I want to discuss with you. She has severe injuries to the brain. There is one good man who specialises in this kind of operation. It is dangerous and very difficult, but he has had a lot of success. I think he would give her a fifty-fifty chance. Dr. Goodyear’s fee would be three thousand dollars. There would, of course, be other expenses. You would have to reckon on at least five thousand dollars, and there would be no guarantee of success.’

‘I don’t care what it costs,’ I said. ‘Get Goodyear. Spend anything you like.’

He picked up the telephone receiver and called Goodyear’s residence.

It took some minutes to get a connection and some further minutes for Dr. Weinborg to convince Goodyear’s receptionist of the urgency of the case. It chilled my blood to hear him explain Sarita’s injuries. Half of what he said I didn’t understand, but some of it I did and that told me as nothing else could how bad she was.

The receptionist said she would call him back and he hung up.

‘It’ll be all right, Mr. Halliday. He has never refused an urgent appeal. He’ll come.’

‘Could I see her?’

‘There’s not much point. She’s unconscious.’

‘All the same I want to see her.’

He studied me, then nodded.

‘Come with me.’ He led me down corridors, through swing doors, up a flight of stairs to a door where a thick-set man sat on a chair, smoking.

The man, every inch a cop, looked at me without interest, but to Weinborg, he said, ‘As soon as she comes out of it, I want to talk to her. We can’t hold this punk for ever.’

‘It’ll be some time,’ Weinborg said, turned the door handle and opened the door.

I stood at the foot of the bed, looking down at Sarita. Her head was bandaged. The sheet was drawn up to her chin. She looked small and so white and waxy, she could have been dead.

There was a nurse sitting by the bed. She got to her feet and looked at Weinborg. She shook her head slightly at him: the secret signs between nurse and doctor.

This was the worst moment in my life. I stood there looking down at her and I had an instinctive feeling she would never speak to me again, never look at me again and never hold me in her arms again.

When I got to my apartment, and as I opened the front door, I heard the telephone bell ringing.

I picked up the receiver.

It was Mayor Mathison.

‘Jeff? I’ve been trying to get you. Jack told me you had gone to the hospital. How is she?’

‘The same. They are getting a brain specialist. There’s to be an operation.’

‘Hilda and I keep thinking of you. Is there anything we can do?’

In a flat, toneless voice I thanked him and said there was nothing he could do. I said it all depended now on the brain specialist.

‘You’ll want money, Jeff. I’ve already talked to the committee. They are advancing half your fee right away. You’ll have thirty thousand dollars in your bank by tomorrow. We’ve got to save her! She’s the sweetest, nicest…’

I couldn’t take much more of this.

‘Thank you,’ I said, breaking in on him and I hung up.

I began to pace up and down. I was still at it when I heard the front door bell ring.

It was Jack.

‘Well? What news?’

I told him about the brain specialist.

He dropped into an armchair and rubbed his fingers across his eyes.

‘You know how I feel about this. I don’t have to tell you. Now listen, let’s talk business for a moment. Hers, yours and my future depends on building this goddam bridge. Here’s what I suggest. I’ve found a young guy, just out of college, who can handle your work. You’ve set it up and he can follow it out. You’ll want to stay close to the hospital. This guy and I can cope with the office for at least a month. That will give you time to get your bearings and to be with Sarita. Okay?’

‘Yes, if you’re sure he can handle it.’

‘For a month, he can do it, but after that you’ll have to take over again. By the way, Jeff, if you want any money call on me.’

‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘I can manage.’

‘Well, I just looked in.’ He got to his feet. ‘I have a whale of a lot of work to do still. Don’t worry too much. She’s young. You see: she’ll pull out of this. Anything I can do?’

‘No, thanks, Jack. I’ll be here if you want me. I told them I’d be waiting here. There seemed no point in waiting at the hospital.’

‘That’s right. Well…’ I could see he wanted to get off. Although the important thing in my life was Sarita, the important thing in his life was the bridge. I understood, but right at that moment I didn’t give a damn if the bridge was ever built. ‘Take it easy, Jeff.’ He started for the door, paused to look at me.

‘Did that other little trouble clear up? Anything I can do there?’

‘That’s under control.’

He nodded and went away. I heard his heavy steps pounding on the stairs. He moved like a man in a hurry.

I lit a cigarette, but after two puffs I stubbed it out.

In eight days’ time I had to pay Rima another ten thousand. Thirty days after that, I would have to pay her thirty thousand. I was sure she wouldn’t stop there. She would go on and on and on, bleeding me white. With the doctors’ and hospital bills ahead of me, I didn’t dare part with any more money and yet I didn’t dare not pay her. She was crazy enough to set the police on me, and I’d find myself in a cell when Sarita needed me most.

I paced to and fro, wondering what to do. I couldn’t go to Santa Barba now Sarita was so dangerously ill, but I had to do something.

Finally, I decided to ask Rima for time to pay.

I wrote to her. I explained about Sarita’s accident. I said until I knew what my expenses were, I couldn’t pay out any more money to her, but later I would give her something.

I don’t know why. I imagined she would be merciful. Maybe I was so upset and scared, I wasn’t in my right mind. If I had thought for a moment and remembered who I was writing to, I wouldn’t have sent the letter, but I wasn’t in the state for clear thinking.

I got the janitor to send the letter by fast night rate. She would get it the day after tomorrow if the Los Angeles bank forwarded it right away.

Around eight o’clock the hospital called and said Dr. Goodyear had arrived and would I come over right away?

Dr. Goodyear was a short, fat man with a bald head and a curt manner.

He said he intended to operate right away.

‘I don’t want you to be under any illusion, Mr. Halliday,’ he said. ‘Your wife is in a dangerous state.

The operation is a difficult one. Frankly, the odds are against her, but I will do my best. I think you should stay here.’

The next three hours were the longest and most horrible I have ever lived through. Around ten o’clock Jack came into the waiting-room and sat with me. We didn’t say anything to each other. A little later Mayor Mathison and his wife came in. Mrs. Mathison touched my shoulder as she passed me, and they sat down to share the wait with me.

At twelve thirty-five, a nurse came to the door and beckoned to me.

No one said anything, but as I got to my feet and crossed the room I knew they were praying for Sarita.

In the corridor I saw Clara sitting on an upright chair, a handkerchief pressed to her eyes. Leaning against the wall, looking embarrassed, was the foreman and four of the guys who ran the bulldozers.

They had come along to share my wait, and I could see how anxious they were.

I followed the nurse to Dr. Weinberg’s office.

Dr. Goodyear, looking old and tired, was smoking, resting his fat hams on the edge of the desk, Dr.

Weinborg stood by the window.

‘Well, Mr. Halliday,’ Goodyear said, ‘the operation has been successful. Now, of course, it depends on how she rides the after effects. I think I can say she is going to live.’

But there was something in the tone of his voice and in the atmosphere that warned me that this was no time for rejoicing.

‘Well, go on… what else?’

My voice sounded thick and harsh.

‘The injuries to the brain are extensive,’ Goodyear said quietly. ‘Although I believe she will live, I regret to tell you she will always be an invalid.’ He paused, frowning, looking away from me. ‘I’m sure you would want the exact truth. At best she will have to live in a wheel chair. I suspect her speech may be impaired, and there seems a possibility that her memory will also be affected.’ He looked up then and I saw his eyes were defeated and sad. ‘I’m sorry. There’s nothing I can say to you that can give you any comfort, but at least, I am fairly confident she will live.’

I stood staring at him.

‘You call that success?’ I said. ‘She won’t walk again. She’ll have difficulty in talking and she won’t remember me? You call that success?’

‘It was a miracle that Dr. Goodyear saved her life,’ Dr. Weinborg said, turning from the window.

‘Her life? What kind of life? Wouldn’t she be better dead?’

I went out of the room and walked fast down the corridor.

Jack was standing in the doorway of the waiting-room. He caught hold of my arm, but I pulled free and kept on.

I walked out of the hospital into the dark night and kept walking.

I had some stupid idea that if I went on and on, I could walk away from this nightmare, out of the darkness, and into the light, and then come home and find Sarita there as she had always been there since our marriage, waiting for me.

Just a stupid idea.

II

During the next three days I lived in a vacuum. I remained at home, waiting for the telephone bell to ring.

Sarita hovered between unconscious life and death.

I was alone, not wanting anyone, scarcely bothering to eat, but smoking continuously, while I sat in an armchair and waited.

From time to time Jack looked in, but he only stayed a few minutes, realising I wanted to be alone.

No one telephoned, knowing that I waited for a call from the hospital and that a ring would be a knife stab if it wasn’t the hospital.

Around nine o’clock on the third night of waiting the telephone did ring.

I crossed the room and snatched up the receiver.

‘Yes? Halliday here.’

‘I want to talk to you.’

It was Rima: there was no mistaking her voice. I felt my heart give a lurch, then it began to beat violently.

‘Where are you?’

‘In the bar of the Aster Hotel. I’m waiting. How soon can you come over?’

‘Right away,’ I said, and hung up. I called the hospital and told the receptionist that I would be in the bar of the Aster Hotel, and if she had any news for me she would find me there.

It was raining.

I put on my raincoat, turned off the lights and went down to the street. I picked up a taxi and was driven across town to the Aster.

During the drive, a cold feeling of fear built up inside me. I was sure Rima wouldn’t have come all this way to see me unless she had something in mind, and that something would be of profit to her.

The Aster Hotel was the best hotel in Holland City. Already she was changing her way of life. She was making use of my money. I felt sure she had come to extract her pound of flesh.

I wouldn’t dare move beyond the reach of a telephone. She could dictate her terms and leave, and I couldn’t attempt to follow her: couldn’t track her down to some safe place where I could silence her.

Any moment I might get a call, telling me to come at once to the hospital. I was in a trap, and no doubt she guessed it, otherwise she wouldn’t have taken the risk of meeting me.

I walked into the Aster’s bar. At that hour it was nearly empty. There were three men leaning against the bar, talking in undertones and drinking Scotch. At a table in a corner, two middle-aged women were chatting over champagne cocktails. In another corner was a young, broad-shouldered, powerfully built man, wearing a cream-coloured sports coat, a red and white scarf knotted at his throat, a pair of bottle green slacks and nigger brown reverse calf shoes.

I noticed him because of his coarse, bovine handsomeness. He looked like a truck driver who has come into money. He was obviously ill at ease in the surroundings of a luxury hotel. He was holding a highball in a big, brown hand. His coarse featured face, handsome because of an animal sensuality, had a bewildered expression.

I glanced away from him, looking for Rima.

She sat in the middle of the bar, isolated by empty chairs and tables. I scarcely recognised her. She was wearing a black coat over a green dress and she had had her hair dyed the latest sable and grey style.

She looked as smart as paint, and as cold and as hard as polished granite.

She had certainly made use of my money.

I crossed the room, pulled up a chair and sat down opposite her.

As I did so, the big man, sitting in the corner, moved around slightly and stared fixedly at me. I knew then he was Rima’s bodyguard.

‘Hello,’ Rima said, and opening her lizard skin bag she took out my letter and tossed it across the table at me.

‘What’s this all about?’

I screwed up the letter and put it in my pocket.

‘You have had ten thousand. That will have to hold you. I can’t spare any more for the time being. I need all the money I have to save my wife’s life.’

She took out a flat, gold cigarette case from her bag, lifted out a cigarette and set it alight with a gold Dunhill lighter.

‘Looks like you and me are going to jail then,’ she said. ‘I told you: I don’t give a damn one way or the other. I should imagine you would want to be with your wife, but if you want to go to jail I can fix it for you.’

‘You can’t mean that,’ I said. ‘I need every dollar I have to take care of my wife. At the end of the month I’ll give you something. I don’t know how much, but it’ll be something. That’s the best I can do.’

She laughed.

‘You’ll do much better than that, Jeff. You’re going to give me a cheque for ten thousand right now, and on the first of the month another cheque for thirty thousand. Those are the terms. I need the money.

If I don’t get it, I’m ready to go to jail. If I go to jail, you’ll come with me. Please yourself.’

I stared at her. The burning desire that was in me to destroy her must have shown on my face, for she suddenly giggled.

‘Oh, I know. You would like to kill me, wouldn’t you? But don’t kid yourself,’ she said. ‘I’m much too smart. Do you see that poor ox, sitting over there in his finery? He’s in love with me. He doesn’t ask questions. He does what I tell him. He’s just a dumb, blind ox, but he’s tough. Don’t kid yourself you could tangle with him. He’s never more than ten feet away from me. You won’t be able to kill me even if you find me, and you won’t even be able to do that. So forget about it.’

‘You don’t seem to understand my position,’ I said, trying to speak calmly. ‘My wife has had a serious accident and she is dangerously ill. I have a lot of unexpected expenses coming up. All I’m asking is for time to pay you. I can’t give you any money now and still take care of the doctors’ bills.’

‘Can’t you?’ She leaned back in her chair, lifting her eyebrows. ‘Well, all right, then I must go to the police. I either get the money or you go to jail. Please yourself.’

‘Now, listen…’

‘You listen!’ She leaned forward and her expression was suddenly vicious. ‘You seem to have a short memory! A little scene like this took place eleven years ago! Maybe you’ve forgotten it, but I haven’t.

We sat side by side in a car. You said unless I gave you thirty dollars you would take me to the police.

Remember? You took my purse and everything I owned. You dictated to me! You told me I would have to work for you until the money was paid. I haven’t forgotten! I warned you I wouldn’t and I haven’t! I promised myself if ever I got you in the same spot, I’d have as much mercy on you as you had for me! I don’t give a damn about your wife! I don’t give a damn about you, so save your breath! I want ten thousand dollars from you right now, and if I don’t get it, I’m going to the police!’

Looking at her hard, degenerate face, I could see nothing I could say would light any spark of mercy in her. For a brief moment I was tempted to tell her to go to hell, but that was only for a brief moment.

She was a junky. Her mind was unpredictable. I didn’t dare call her bluff. She might go to the police, and if she did, I was sure they would come for me within a few hours of her giving them the information. There was no way out of this situation. She had me over a barrel. I would have to pay her.

I wrote the cheque and pushed it across the table to her.

‘There it is,’ I said, and I was surprised how steady my voice sounded. ‘Now I’ll give you a warning.

You are right that I plan to kill you. One of these days I will find and kill you. Remember that.’

She giggled.

‘Stop talking like a movie script, and don’t forget I want thirty thousand on the first of the month. If I don’t get it, you won’t hear from me, but you will hear from the cops.’

I got to my feet. Out of the corner of my eye I saw her boy friend had also stood up.

‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you,’ I said, and turning I crossed the bar to a row of telephone booths. I called the hospital and told the receptionist I was now on my way home.

‘Oh, Mr. Halliday, will you hold on a moment…?’

I was feeling pretty flat, but the sharp note in her voice brought me alert.

I heard her say something as if talking in an undertone to someone near by, then she said, ‘Mr.

Halliday? Dr. Weinborg would like you to come in. There’s nothing to be alarmed about, but he would like to see you as soon as possible.’

‘I’m coming,’ I said, and hung up.

I left the bar and in the street I waved to a cruising taxi. I told the driver to take me to the hospital fast.

As the cab drew away from the kerb, I caught sight of Rima and her boy friend walking towards the car park. She was looking up at him and smiling and he was staring hungrily down at her.

I reached the hospital in under seven minutes and I was shown straight into Dr. Weinborg’s office.

He came around his desk and shook hands with me.

‘Mr. Halliday, I’m not too satisfied with your wife’s progress,’ he said. ‘She should be showing some improvement by now, but frankly, she isn’t. Don’t misunderstand me. Her condition hasn’t deteriorated, but it hasn’t improved, and in a case like this we look for improvement within three or four days of the operation.’

I began to say something but found my lips so dry I couldn’t get the words out. I just stared at him, waiting.

‘I’ve talked to Dr. Goodyear. He suggests that Dr. Zimmerman should see your wife.’

‘What makes him imagine Dr. Zimmerman whoever he is can do anything better than he has done?’ I asked.

Weinberg moved a letter opener around on his desk.

‘Dr. Zimmerman is the most able specialist to do with the nerves of the brain, Mr. Halliday. He…’

‘I thought Goodyear was that.’

‘Dr. Goodyear is a brain surgeon,’ Weinborg said patiently. ‘He doesn’t handle post-operative cases.

Dr. Zimmerman usually takes over from him in complicated cases.’

‘One clearing up the other’s messes?’

Dr. Weinborg frowned.

‘I understand how you must be feeling, but that is scarcely a fair thing to say.’

‘I suppose it isn’t.’ I sat down abruptly. I was suddenly deadly tired and felt defeated. ‘Well, all right, let’s get Dr. Zimmerman.’

‘It’s a little more involved than just that,’ Weinborg said. ‘Dr. Zimmerman will only treat a patient if the patient is at his sanatorium out at Holland Heights. I’m afraid this will be an expensive business, Mr.

Halliday, but I have every confidence that if your wife went to Dr. Zimmerman’s place she would have the very best chance of recovery.’

‘Which is another way of saying if she remains here she doesn’t stand such a good chance.’

‘That is correct. Dr. Zimmerman…’

‘What will it cost?’

‘That’s something you will have to discuss with Dr. Zimmerman. At a guess about three hundred dollars a week. She would be under Dr. Zimmerman’s personal supervision.’

I lifted my hands despairingly. This thing seemed to be going on and on, making inroads into my money.

‘Okay, let Dr. Zimmerman see her,’ I said. ‘When he’s here I’ll talk to him.’

‘He’ll be here at eleven o’clock tomorrow morning.’

Before I returned home, I looked in on Sarita. She was still unconscious. I took away with me a picture of her that crushed me.

When I got home I made a check on my financial position. With more expense ahead of me, it would be impossible to pay Rima any more money. I had four weeks ahead of me to find and silence her. Even if it meant leaving Sarita for a few days, I would have to do it.

The next morning I met Dr. Zimmerman. He was a middle-aged man with a lean face and keen eyes and a quiet, confidential manner. I liked him on sight.

‘I’ve examined your wife, Mr. Halliday,’ he said. ‘There can be no question but she must come to my sanatorium. I am sure I can start good progress moving. The operation has been successful, but certain nerves have been damaged. However, these I think I can fix. In three or four months’ time, when she is stronger, I’m going to talk to Dr. Goodyear and I’m going to suggest another operation. I think between the two of us we can certainly save her memory and we might even get her walking again, but she must be moved to my place immediately.’

‘What’s it going to cost?’

‘Three hundred a week for a private room. There will be nursing fees: say three hundred and seventy a week?’

‘How about the second operation?’

‘I couldn’t say, Mr. Halliday. To be on the safe side, perhaps three thousand, possibly four.’

I was beyond caring now.

‘Go ahead,’ I said, paused and then went on, ‘I need to leave town for four or five days. When do you think my wife will be safe for me to leave?’

He looked a little surprised.

‘It’s too early for that. I’ll be better able to tell in a couple of weeks. She won’t he off the danger list until then.’

So I waited two weeks.

I went back to the office and slaved to get ahead with the work so when the all-clear came I would be free to go on my hunt for Rima.

Ted Weston, the new man Jack had found to work with me, was keen and reliable. I had no misgivings once I had set him a programme that he wouldn’t be able to carry it out.

Very slowly Sarita began to make progress. Each week I parted with three hundred and seventy dollars. My bank balance shrank. But I didn’t regret the money because I now felt if anyone could pull her through it would be Zimmerman.

Finally I got a telephone call.

Zimmerman himself came on the line.

‘You want to get off on business, Mr. Halliday? I think I can let you go now. There is a definite improvement in your wife’s condition. She is not conscious yet, but she is much stronger, and I think you can go without any need to worry. It would be wiser to let me know where I can contact you just in case of a setback. This I don’t anticipate, but it is well to be on the safe side.’

I said I would let him know how to reach me, then after a few more words I hung up.

I sat staring in front of me, my heart thumping, and there came a cold feeling of triumph rising in me.

At last after all these horrible, endless weeks, I could go after Rima.

I had thirteen days in which to find her before the thirty thousand had to be paid.

I was well ahead with my work. I could leave without throwing any extra work on Jack.

I caught a plane to Santa Barba the following morning.