Free Whiff Of Money by James Hadley Chase Page A

'His secretary had a letter from him yesterday. I know his handwriting and the stamp interested me. The Alpenhoff Hotel, Garmisch... that's where he is. When he left, he told me he would be away a month.' 'When did he leave, madame?' 'Last Monday.'
    'You are very kind... thank you, madame.' T hope you get your money, monsieur,' she said. 'He is not a nice gentleman.'
    Her old fat face crinkled into a grimace. 'He is mean.'
    Girland again thanked her and walked out onto the busy street. He glanced at his watch. It was 16.20 hrs. He decided to visit Sammy's Bar and talk to Jack Dodge, the second lead Benny had given him.
    He found Sammy's Bar on Rue Berry off Avenue des Champs Elysees: a typical, dimly lit bar like so many bars that grow like mushrooms around any tourist haunt. He pushed open the door and walked into a long narrow room, the bar to the left with the standard stools, to the right were banquettes and tables. At this hour the place was empty except for the barman who was browsing over a racing sheet, Biro in hand, a look of concentration on bis handsome face.
    As soon as Girland saw him, he guessed he must be Jack Dodge. This man with his sandy-coloured hair, his sun lamp complexion, his bulky shoulders and the shadow of dissipation under his close-set eyes looked the part of a stallion: a sensual lump of muscle and flesh: whose brain and mind were as small as his sexuality was enormous.
    The barman glanced up, then pushed the racing sheet away. He gave Girland a smirking grin and placed big hands on the bar counter.
    'Yes, sir?' he said. 'What is your pleasure?'
    Girland hoisted himself on a stool.
    'Rye whisky and ginger ale.'
    'Yes, sir... a nice reviving drink.'
    'That's what I need. Have one with me.'
    I won't say no.' The barman made two drinks with a lot of unnecessary flourishes. 'First one today.'
    He placed one of the glasses before Girland and lifted the other.
    'Sante.'
    They drank, then Girland asked casually, 'Are you Jack Dodge?'
    The barman lifted a sandy eyebrow.
    'That's me. Can't say I've seen you before. I have a good memory for faces.'
    "That's good news. I want you to remember a girl'
    I get a lot of girls in here. I won't swear I can remember them all. It's the men I concentrate on.' He grinned slyly. 'They pick up the tab.'
    I understand. Well, never mind about the girl for the moment. Are you still happy working for Pierre Rosnold?' Girland asked, his dark eyes on Dodge's face.
    If he had leaned across the bar and punched Dodge in the eye, he wouldn't have got a bigger reaction.
    Dodge reared back. His close-set eyes went blank with shock. The blood moved out of his face leaving his skin blotchy under the sun lamp complexion, but he recovered quickly. For a brief moment, when Girland could almost hear his brain creaking, he stood motionless, then pulling himself together, he eyed Girland with sudden suspicion.
    I don't know him,' he said. 'Excuse me. I've things to do.'
    'Don't be so obvious,' Girland said. 'You have nothing to do except talk to me. I know what your side-line is, but that doesn't mean I'll make trouble for you. How would you like to pick up an easy hundred bucks?'
    'I told you, sir, I have things to do.' Dodge began to move away down the bar.
    'If you don't want my money, I can always call Inspector Dupuis of the vice squad and turn you in. Please yourself.'
    Dodge hesitated, then glared at Girland. 'Just who the hell are you?'
    'Look on me as your pal,' Girland said and smiled. He took ten ten-dollar bills from his wallet. These he had got by cashing some of his traveller's cheques at the American Express on his way to the bar. 'All yours, buddy, for a little information which won't go further. Don't look so anxious. I'm not after you. I want to find a girl who went through a performance with you before Rosnold's camera.'
    Dodge eyed the money, licked his full lips, took a drink, then looked at the money again.
    'You mean that's for me?'
    'That's right. No strings to it...