My chance would come if I was patient, and when it did, nothing would stop me grabbing it. I would have to be tougher, harder, more ruthless, more determined, more unethical and more amoral than any of them.
If that was what I had to be, then that was what I was going to be!
Mrs. Hansen tapped on the door and brought in my breakfast. She asked if I had slept well and would I like fried chicken for dinner. I said that would be fine. When she had gone, I sat down to buckwheat pancakes and two eggs on grilled ham.
I told myself that when I got my first million, I would send Mrs. Hansen a big, anonymous donation. She was stealing herself blind.
‘How did it go, Keith?’ Bert asked as I came into his office for the lunch hour break. ‘Any problems?’
‘No problems. These kids are certainly keen. It’s my bet they have been practising on their father’s cars. They can’t be as good as this first time.’
He chuckled.
‘I guess that’s right. Anyway, you like the work?’
‘If you can call it work, I like it,’ I said. ‘I guess I’ll go grab me a hamburger. See you at two.’
‘Oh, Keith, use the car. It’s no use to me. I’ve never learned to drive, and I’m too old to start now. So long as you pay for the gas, it’s yours.’
‘Why thanks, Bert.’
‘Mrs. Hansen has a garage at the back. It’ll save you a bus fare.’
‘Nice idea.’ I underlined the word ‘nice’ and grinned at him.
‘You’re catching on. Want a snort before you go?’
‘Thanks, no. No hard stuff during working hours.’
He nodded his approval.
I went over to the café across the street, ordered a hamburger and a Coke.
So far the job seemed dead easy. As I had told Bert, the kids were crazy to get their driving permits so they could take off in some old buggy they had saved for, and they were eager to learn. I seemed to have the knack of getting along with young people. I had mixed enough with them in Vietnam and I knew their thing. But, I told myself, I mustn’t let myself get sucked into this easy way of life. It was fine for a month or so, but no longer. At the end of the month, unless some opportunity turned up — the big opportunity I was waiting for — then I would have to move on. I would take a look at Frisco. Surely in a city of that size the opportunity would be waiting.
When I returned to the Driving school a few minutes before two, I found Hank Sobers waiting. Remembering Maisie’s warning, I looked him over. He was a tall, gangling youth of around eighteen with a crop of pimples, hair down to his shoulders, wearing a T-shirt on which was printed: Don’t Look Further Than Me, Babe.
‘This is Hank Sobers,’ Maisie said. ‘The boy wonder,’ and she went back to her typing.
‘Hurry it up, dad,’ Hank said to me. ‘I ain’t got all day.’
I moved up and loomed over him. This had to be handled fast and right.
‘Talking to me?’ I barked.
They teach you how to bark in the Army, and I hadn’t forgotten.
I startled him as I had meant to startle him. He took a step back and gaped at me.
‘Let’s get going,’ he said feebly. ‘I’m paying for these bloody lessons and I expect action.’
I looked at Maisie who had stopped typing and was watching, her eyes round.
‘Is he paying or is his father paying?’
‘His father is.’
‘Right.’ I turned back to Hank. ‘Now listen, son, from now on you call me Mr. Devery... understand? When you get into that car, you will do exactly what I say. You won’t voice your unwanted opinions. I’m going to teach you to drive. If you don’t like the way I do it, go elsewhere. Get all that?’
I knew from what Maisie had told me there was no other Driving school in Wicksteed so I had him where I wanted him.
He hesitated, then mumbled.
‘Oh, sure.’
‘Oh sure... what?’ Again the bark.
‘Oh sure, Mr. Devery.’
‘Let’s go.’ I took him out to the car. As soon as he got into the driving seat, started the engine and moved the car from the kerb, I could see he didn’t need lessons. It was my bet he had been driving his old man’s car without a permit for months. I told him to drive around, had him park, had him stop on a hill, had him U-turn. I couldn’t fault him.
‘Okay, pull up here.’
He parked and looked at me.
‘How’s your driving code, Hank?’
‘It’s okay.’
‘Go talk to Mr. Ryder. If he passes you, I’ll pass you. You don’t need lessons. You handle a car as well as I do.’
He suddenly grinned.
‘Gee! Thanks, Mr. Devery. I thought you’d screw me around just to get my old man’s money.’
‘That’s an idea.’ I regarded him. ‘Maybe you’d better have five more lessons.’
He looked alarmed.
‘Hey! I was only kidding.’
‘So was I. Drive me back and I’ll talk to Mr. Ryder.’
We returned to the Driving school. I talked to Bert and he had Hank in and tested him.
Ten minutes later, Hank came out of Bert’s office, a wide grin on his face.
‘I walked it!’ he said to me. ‘And thanks, Mr. Devery, you’ve been swell.’
‘You still have the official test to take,’ I reminded him. ‘So watch it.’
‘Sure will, Mr. Devery,’ and still grinning he took himself off.
‘You certainly have a way with you, Keith,’ Maisie said. She had been listening. ‘That voice! You scared me.’
‘An old Army trick,’ I said, but I was pleased with myself.
‘Who’s next on the list?’
I knocked off just after 18.00, looked in to say so long to Bert, then getting in the car, I started down Main street towards my hired room.
A police whistle made me stiffen. I looked to my right. A tall man in brown uniform, a fawn Stetson on his head, a gun on his hip, crooked a finger at me.
My heart skipped a beat. For the past ten months I had steered clear of the cops. I had even got into the habit of crossing the street or stepping into a shop if I saw one coming. Well, there was no skipping this one. I checked my driving mirror, saw the street was clear of traffic behind me and pulled to the kerb.
I sat still, my hands moist, my heart thumping while I watched in my wing mirror his casual approach. Like all cops when stopping a car, he wasn’t in a hurry — his way of waging a war of nerves — and finally, he came to rest beside me: a young guy, hatchet faced, small cop eyes, thin lips. The first non-nice person I had met in Wicksteed. He had a label on his shirt that read: Deputy Sheriff Abel Ross.
‘This your car, Mac?’ he demanded, movie tough.
‘No, and my name’s not Mac, it’s Devery.’
He narrowed his narrow eyes.
‘If it’s not your car what are you doing driving it?’
‘Going home, Deputy Sheriff Ross,’ I said quietly, and I could see I was fazing him a little.
‘Mr. Ryder know about it, Mac?’
‘The name’s Devery, Deputy Sheriff Ross,’ I said, ‘and he knows about it.’
‘Licence.’
He held out a hand as big as a ham.
I gave him my licence and he studied it.
‘You’ve renewed it. Why has it lapsed for five years?’
Now he was getting me fazed.
‘I gave up driving for five years.’
‘Why?’
‘I didn’t need a car.’
He cocked his head on one side, staring at me.
‘Why didn’t you need a car?’
‘For private reasons, Deputy Sheriff Ross. Why do you ask?’
After a long pause, he handed the licence back.
‘I haven’t seen you around before. What are you doing in this town?’
‘I am the new driving instructor,’ I told him. ‘If you want to check me out suppose you talk to Mr. Ryder?’