Kept Women Can’t Quit

I sat on the floor and studied the cards and the books. I couldn’t make heads or tails of them. All I knew for sure was that they dealt in large sums of money, but there were no names, no words of any sort; just combinations of figures. Over in the right-hand column there would be figures: 20-50-IC-2C-5C-7C-2G-1G-.

Apparently the C’s represented hundreds and the G’s thousands — that much I felt I could use as a starter.

Then there were cards. These cards each contained a number at the top and a series of notations.

I selected one at random. It read 0051 364. Below these numbers was 4-5-59-10-1-; 8-5-59-4-1+.

I studied several of the cards. The number at the top quite frequently ended 364. The numbers on the lower part of the cards were always separated by minus signs but the end would sometimes be plus, sometimes minus.

I pulled everything out of the trunk and started looking it over.

It was quite a while before I found the false-bottom compartment.

I wouldn’t have found it then if I hadn’t turned the thing up and tapped around with my knuckles.

A movable board was held in place by concealed screws. This board slid out after I had removed those small screws, so carefully concealed that it was almost impossible to find them. The heads had been covered with cloth of exactly the same pattern as the lining of the trunk.

The compartment below was filled with thousand-dollar bills.

I counted them. There were exactly fifty-two one-thousand-dollar bills. I counted twice to make sure, then I took out fifty of the bills, carefully replaced the remaining two in the secret compartment, slid the board back into place and replaced the screws.

Then I carefully replaced the blankets in the trunk. I ran a handkerchief over the things I had touched to be sure I left no fingerprints on the inside of the trunk.

I went down to the cashier’s office. “I’m Mr. Lam,” I said. “I have to check out. My bill is paid.”

She looked it up, said, “But you checked in only a short time ago, Mr. Lam.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I had to change my plans.”

She frowned. “Did you wish a refund?”

“Heavens, no. I’ve used the room. That’s all right. I just wanted to have the records straight.”

She gave me a receipt and a smile.

“All right. You’re checked out. I’m sorry you couldn’t stay longer.”

“So am I. I’ll be back, however.”

I walked over to the mail desk.

“A message for George Biggs Gridley?” I asked, showing the key to Gridley’s room.

“No messages, Mr. Gridley.”

I frowned. “Please check again.”

She did. There were no messages. That bothered me a lot. By right Gridley’s phone should have been hot by this time.

I went back to the trunk, took out the books and cards, put them in a heavy pasteboard carton, sent them by express to myself in Los Angeles, then drove to the Happy Daze Camera Company.

I went inside. It was run by a Japanese. He came to meet me, bowing and scraping.

“I want to see a good used camera,” I said. “And I want a box of double-weight five by seven enlarging paper.”

He got the paper first.

I opened the box of paper while he was getting out the cameras to show me. I slipped out about fifteen sheets of photographic paper, kicked these sheets under the counter and slipped the fifty one-thousand-dollar bills in where the photographic paper had been.

The man who was waiting on me was evidently the manager of the place. There was another Japanese who was older and who had been watching me curiously, but an attractive woman came in and occupied his attention up at the new camera counter at the front end of the store.

I noticed her out of the corner of my eye but kept my attention on the manager, who was scurrying around trying to clinch the sale.

I picked out one of the cameras he brought over. “How about a case for this?” I asked.

He bowed and smiled and scurried away again.

I made sure that the fifty thousand dollars in bills fitted snugly into the package of enlarging paper and put the black paper wrappings back around the paper, and the cover back on the box.

When the manager came back with the case for the camera I haggled for a few minutes about price, then said, “All right, I’ll take it. Now then, I want all this shipped at once.”

“Shipped?”

“Shipped.”

“Where to, please?”

I gave him one of my cards. “I want this sent to my personal attention at Los Angeles and I want it sent at once by air express. I want someone to get in a cab and personally take it to the air express office. Mark the package ‘Rush and Special Handling.’ ”

I pulled out a wallet and started counting out money.

“Yes, yes,” he said. “Very good. Right away.”

“You’ll send a special messenger down to the airport?”

“Right away,” he promised. “I call a cab, right away.”

“Pack it up nicely,” I said, “in excelsior so it won’t be damaged in transit.”

“Oh, yes. Yes, of course.”

“I mean immediately, right now. I want that camera in Los Angeles by evening. It has to be sent down with special handling charges. You understand?”

“Will do. Very good.”