‘I’ll give them to him.’ He took the envelope and put it in his pocket. ‘So you’re leaving. Why not stay in Wicksteed, Devery? You could do a lot worse. Bert was talking about you last night. He still wants you to be his partner.’
I shook my head.
‘I guess I’m footloose, Sheriff. I want to try my luck in a big city.’
‘Any news of Mrs. Marshall?’
‘Not a thing. Mr. Bernstein is handling her affairs. He sacked me.’ I gave what I hoped was a rueful smile. ‘The house is sold. I guess that’s it.’
‘Yeah. It doesn’t look as if Mrs. Marshall will help with our scheme?’
‘I wouldn’t know, Sheriff. Joe could have a word with Mr. Bernstein.’
‘Yeah.’ He started his engine. ‘Well, okay, Devery. I wish you luck. Don’t forget Bert still wants you as a partner. He thinks a lot of you.’
‘I won’t forget.’
I shook hands with him and then with Allison, then I got back into my car. I drove on to the highway, leaving them looking after me.
I arrived at the restaurant-cum-motel a little after 15.00. Parking the car, I walked into the restaurant, paused to look around, then picked a corner table near the bar. The lunch rush was over and the place was empty. After a minute or so, Mario came from the kitchen and wandered over to me. When he reached my table, he recognized me and his fat face lit up with a smile.
‘It’s Beth’s friend,’ he said and offered his hand.
I shook hands with him.
‘Have a beer with me if you’re not busy,’ I said.
He laughed.
‘Does it look as if I’m busy?’ He waved to the empty room. ‘I won’t get busy now for a couple of hours.’ He went away, poured two beers, returned and sat at the table. ‘Devery... that’s the name, isn’t it?’
‘You have a good memory.’
‘Yeah. It helps to have a good memory in my business. People like to be recognized. Yeah... you were teaching her to drive... a joke.’ He laughed.
I stared directly at him.
‘She made a good screw.’
He nodded.
‘I’m sure. I never got there myself, being happily married.’ He grimaced. ‘I don’t need women like Beth.’
‘You heard about her husband... Frank Marshall?’
He sipped his beer, screwing up his eyes as he regarded me.
‘What about him?’
‘He’s dead.’
Putting down his beer, Mario crossed himself.
‘God rest his soul. It will come to all of us.’ He drank some beer, then went on, ‘From what I’ve heard he wasn’t much... a lush, wasn’t he?’
‘You can say that again.’
‘I heard he owned a big house. Did she get that?’
‘That and some money.’
He laughed and slapped his fat thigh.
‘Trust Beth. She was always on to a winner. So she has the house and some money.’ He leaned forward as he asked, ‘How much?’
As if I would tell him.
‘I wouldn’t know... some money.’
‘Well, that’s nice. Now she can keep her fancy cop in cigarettes and beer.’
The cold dead finger crept up my spine. Somehow I managed to keep my face expressionless.
‘Cop? What cop?’
‘You wouldn’t know him: a deputy at Wicksteed: one of those jerks who is always looking for trouble... name of Ross. She was crazy about him and I guess still is. On his day off, he would come here when she was running this joint. She would leave everything to me to handle and shack up with him in one of our cabins.’ He paused and winked at me. ‘The way you and she shacked up when she brought you here. Every week, he came and screwed her. To see her with him was something. She couldn’t keep her eyes nor her hands off him. In my time, I’ve seen women besotted with men, but nothing like this. Well, if she had money now, he’ll get it. He had a hook in her and, believe me, it’s a hook that’ll stay in.’
I sat staring at him. What he had said hit me like a punch in the belly. I felt bile rush into my mouth. Getting up I ran to the men’s room, somehow reached a loo, then threw up.
Ten minutes later, I got hold of myself. I washed my face, drank some water, then bracing myself, I returned to the restaurant. My heartbeat was sluggish. I was sweating and my mind only half working.
Mario had finished his beer and stared at me as I joined him at the table.
‘Something wrong?’ he asked as I dropped into my chair.
‘It’s okay now. Something I ate last night. I had to throw up. Let’s have a shot of whisky.’
His face brightened.
‘I don’t often drink whisky, but why not?’
I had myself under control by the time he came back with a bottle of Old Roses and two shot glasses. He poured. We drank.
‘What did you eat last night?’ he asked sympathetically.
‘Clams... never again.’
‘That’s it. They are either right or they are poison. Are you okay now, Mr. Devery?’
I finished my drink, poured another and shoved the bottle his way.
‘I’m fine. You were telling me about Ross. I met him. I once had a job in Wicksteed. I hear he has resigned from the police force and is in some security job here.’
‘Is that right?’ Mario shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t know.’
‘Have you seen Beth since I was last here?’
‘No.’ He grimaced, sipped his drink, then added, ‘I’m not sorry. She always finds fault. Do you think she is in Frisco?’
‘I know she is.’
‘Then maybe she’ll look in.’ He finished his drink. ‘No skin off my nose if she doesn’t.’
‘From what she told me, she always wanted to settle here.’ I poured him another drink.
‘That’s right. She was born here. Her father left her a little house on Orchard Avenue. He called the house Apple Trees. She once told me there wasn’t an apple on the place. She told me she had an offer to sell, but she wouldn’t. She said the house was part of her background.’
I had all I wanted to know. Finishing my drink, I dropped a five dollar bill on the table and stood up.
‘Well, I guess I’m on my way,’ I said. ‘It’s been nice talking to you.’
He stared up at me.
‘Is there something wrong?’
‘Keep the change.’
I walked out of the restaurant and to my car.
I booked into a cheap motel and shut myself in the small cabin. I needed to be on my own, to sit still and to think. I told the elderly reception clerk I had been driving all night and wanted to rest up for a while. He couldn’t have been less interested. I asked him if he had a street guide of Frisco. He found one after searching through a drawer.
Shut up in the shabby air conditioned room, I lit a cigarette and took stock.
It was as if I had been blindfolded and now Mario’s information had whipped off the blinder and I could see just what a sucker I had been.
With the cigarette burning between my fingers, I thought back. I recalled the first time I had met Ross. I could see him clearly: tall, thin, young — around twenty-nine — small hard cop eyes and a thin mouth. Beth’s lover! A man, according to Mario, with whom Beth was besotted. By sheer chance he had investigated me and had found I had been in jail. He must have, discussed me with Beth. I was a stranger in town with a criminal record. To them, I must have seemed a gift from the gods to be used as their cat’s paw. Ross had been at the railroad station when Marshall had arrived, drunk. I was sure now this had been a deliberate set-up. I had fallen for it by driving Marshall home and he had fallen for it by hiring me to act as his chauffeur. Probably Beth had persuaded him he must have someone to drive him. The rest had been too easy. All she had to do was to get me on the bed. The rest of the grave I had dug for myself. Then I remembered the time when I had driven Marshall back from Frisco and had found Ross with Beth. He had probably been screwing her, thinking Marshall would be away for three or four days. They must have had a hell of a fright, but they had played it so cool, they had fooled me. I now could understand why Ross had said Marshall’s death was an open and shut case. The last thing either of them would want was a murder investigation and McQueen and Luke Brewer had fallen for it.