Now, lying on the bed, the cigarette smouldering between my fingers, I reviewed the situation. It looked good to me. I had dropped into a situation I hadn’t thought possible. I was inside the fort whereas all those creeps in Wicksteed, thirsting to get their fingers on some of Marshall’s money, were strictly on the outside. Now, I told myself, I would have to play my cards carefully. She had twice warned me not to underestimate this fat drunk. Well, okay, I was warned. So first I must probe. I wanted to satisfy myself she knew what she was saying and I hoped she didn’t.
I spent the next half hour thinking about the situation, then I heaved myself off the bed and went along the corridor to the bathroom. Showered and shaved, I returned to the bedroom and dressed, then I went down and into the living room.
The smell of grilling bacon reminded me I was hungry. I walked into the kitchen.
Beth was by the stove, the grill on, the bacon spitting, eggs in the frying pan.
We looked at each other and she gave me her remote smile.
‘Did you sleep well, Mr. Devery?’ The red light was on.
‘Fine, thank you. That smells good.’
‘How do you like your eggs?’
‘As they come.’
She had such a hook in me that I longed to grab her and let my hands slide down that long, beautiful back until I cupped her buttocks, but her remote eyes warned me off.
‘Hi Keith!’
Startled, I turned.
Marshall was standing in the kitchen doorway. Considering the state he had been in the previous night, he looked pretty good. He laid a heavy hand on my arm.
‘While we eat, let’s talk.’ He beamed at Beth. ‘Ready soon?’
‘Coming up.’
I went with him into the dining room. The table was laid, coffee in a percolator was ready. There was toast and as we sat down, she came in and put plates of eggs and bacon before us.
‘I told you,’ he said, grinning at me. ‘Look at this! My wife’s reliable.’
I didn’t say anything.
‘I have a job to do in the garden, Frank,’ she said in her deep, sexy voice. ‘Enjoy your breakfast,’ and she went away.
‘She never stops working in the garden,’ he said pouring coffee. ‘Well, Keith, are you throwing in with me?’
‘I’d be stupid if I didn’t, wouldn’t I?’
He regarded me, then began spreading butter on his toast. ‘That’s for sure. Okay. I want you to drive me to the station, I’ve got business in Frisco this morning, but I’ll be back on the 12.30 express. Meet me. We’ll have lunch and then I’ve got to talk to Olson.’
‘Okay, and I’ll have to talk to Ryder.’
He dismissed this with an airy wave of his hand. He was already acting as a millionaire.
‘You have all the morning.’
I began my probe.
‘An idea struck me this morning, Frank,’ I said. ‘Would you be interested in buying Ryder out? From what I’ve seen of his business, it’s sound and could make you a decent profit. If you like the idea, I could get figures and we could talk about it tonight.’
He shovelled eggs and bacon into his mouth.
‘Not interested. Now, listen, Keith, I’m going big. Ryder’s pissy little business doesn’t interest me.’
I nodded.
‘Then there’s another proposition, Frank. The Planning committee...’
‘You heard about that?’ He grinned. ‘Their pissy amusement park? They can shove that. I don’t want anything to do with Wicksteed... that’s strictly out.’
Don’t underestimate him.
‘I just thought you might be interested.’
‘Sure. I want you to feed me ideas, but Wicksteed is out.’
‘Well, it’s your money, Frank.’ I paused to sip my coffee, then went on, ‘This amusement park could turn into a hell of a good investment. I’ve swung deals like this before when I was with Barton Sharman.’
‘Okay, so it could be a hell of a little investment, but I’m not interested.’ He bit into his toast. ‘I’ve been around, Keith. Real estate is my business. I know what a million dollars can produce. Repeat... I don’t want anything to do with Wicksteed.’
As she had said, he was going to be difficult to handle. Again the thought came into my mind: Do me a favour... drop dead.
‘You’re the boss, Frank.’
‘That’s it.’ He shoved back his chair. ‘Let’s get going. I’ve a hell of a day ahead.’
Without seeing Beth again, I drove him to the station, then I drove to the Driving school. Although it was only 8.45, Bert was already at his desk.
I explained the situation. I said Marshall wanted me to be his chauffeur and he was offering me seven hundred and wanted me to grow with him. I put the cards on the table because I liked Bert and didn’t want to play tricky.
‘Bert, you know my situation. Frank knows about it (a lie) and this is a chance I should take.’
He looked at me, his eyes showing his disappointment.
‘I understand, Keith. Well...’ He lifted his hands. ‘Tom will handle the driving lessons. I guess I won’t retire now for a while.’ He shook his head. ‘We all have to plough our own furrow. If that’s what you want, I understand.’
‘I told you, Bert, I’m footloose.’
He nodded and that was that.
Maisie shook my hand and Tom Lucas patted my shoulder. I was half-sorry to quit: these were decent people.
As I started towards the car, I suddenly realized it was no longer mine to use. I was standing there, wondering what to do when Tom Mason pulled up in his dusty Ford.
‘Hi Keith! You look as if you have a problem.’
I walked over and leaned against his car.
‘No problem, Tom. How are you?’
‘Me? I can’t grumble. Do you want to go someplace?’
‘Not right now.’ I went around and slid into the passenger’s seat, ‘but I want a word with you.’
‘Say on.’ He looked inquiringly at me.
I gave it to him straight. I told him Marshall had hired me to be his chauffeur, that as soon as he got his inheritance, he planned to quit Wicksteed, that I had suggested he could do a lot worse than to invest some of his money in the amusement park and how he had reacted.
‘So there it is, Tom,’ I concluded. ‘Maybe I can do something later... talk sense into him, but right now, it looks bad.’
His face expressed his disappointment.
‘But would you want to be his chauffeur, Keith? I understand that Bert has offered you a partnership.’
‘That’s right, but I’m footloose. I’ll go along with Marshall for a while. It could be interesting.’ I opened the car door. ‘I wanted you to know. Tell Joe and Mr. Olson.’
I left him and walked down the street to the cab rank, aware everyone on the street was watching me. I told the cabby to drive me back to Marshall’s home.
Beth was in the garden, cutting roses as the cab pulled up. I paid off the cabby and waited in the hot sun until he had driven away. By this time she had gone into the house.
I found her stripping off in my bedroom. I was out of my clothes as she dropped across the bed.
We grabbed each other and her wild cry ran through the silent house.
I parked Marshall’s Plymouth in the station yard a few minutes to 12.30. He hadn’t bothered to get the car fixed since he had had the accident. It had a crumpled wing and a smashed headlight, but it still ran.
As I was getting out of the car, Deputy Sheriff Ross materialized. He surveyed the car, then looked me over, his little cop’s eyes bleak, his mouth still puffy.
‘That’s not fit to be on the road,’ he said, pointing to the bust wing.
‘You take it up with Mr. Marshall, this town’s millionaire,’ I said. ‘I’m just the hired hand,’ and moving around him, I walked up the slope to the railroad station.
‘Hey, Mac!’