‘That’s money.’ I now had confirmation that Tom Mason hadn’t been exaggerating and I decided to shift the conversation to Joe’s son, Sammy. As I was saying that Sammy would have to have a few more lessons, a big, bulky man came into the bar. I glanced at him, then stiffened. He was wearing the fawn shirt, the dark brown slacks and the fawn Stetson of a cop.
He paused at my side and shook hands with Joe.
‘Howdy, Sam,’ Joe said. ‘What’ll it be?’
‘A beer.’
The big man half turned and looked at me. He was around fifty-five with alert grey eyes, a droopy moustache, a jutting chin and a nose that looked as if someone had taken a poke at it at one time. On his shirt was a badge which read: Sheriff Sam McQueen.
‘Meet Mr. Devery, Sam,’ Joe said as he poured the beer. ‘Bert’s new driving instructor.’
‘Howdy.’ McQueen offered his hand.
We shook hands. There was a pause, then McQueen said, ‘I’ve been hearing about you, Mr. Devery. Let’s sit down. I’ve been on my feet all day.’ Carrying his beer, he walked over to a far table.
I hesitated, then looked at Joe.
‘A real nice guy,’ Joe whispered. ‘One of the best.’
I picked up my drink and joined McQueen at the table. He offered me a cigar.
‘Thanks, but I don’t smoke them,’ I said and lit a cigarette.
‘Welcome to Wicksteed.’ He paused to drink half his beer, sighed, slapped his paunch and set down his glass. ‘This is a nice little town.’ He lit his cigar, then went on, ‘I’ll tell you something. Our crime rate is the lowest on the Pacific coast.’
‘That’s something to sing about,’ I said.
‘I guess. Apart from some kids stealing from the store, a few drunks, kids borrowing other people’s cars from time to time is all. No serious crime, Mr. Devery. Makes me a little lazy, but I don’t mind being lazy. At my age, it’s nice not to have to race and chase.’
I nodded.
There was a long pause, then McQueen said quietly, ‘I hear you had a run-in with my young deputy.’
Here it comes, I thought and braced myself. Keeping my expression wooden, I said, ‘He thought I was stealing Mr. Ryder’s car.’
McQueen took another drink.
‘He’s a very ambitious boy. A mite too ambitious. I’m hoping to get him transferred to Frisco where the action is. Without my say-so he checked on you and gave me a report.’
I looked through the open doorway at the home going traffic crawling along in the hot sun. I felt a little chill run through me.
‘Having read the report, Mr. Devery, I thought I’d better check for myself.’ McQueen paused to blow smoke. ‘That’s my job. I talked to Ryder, Pinner and Mason. I also talked to Mrs. Hansen. I told them I wanted to know what they thought of you, you being a stranger here and as they know, strangers are my business. They all gave you a remarkably good report. From what they tell me you could become a useful citizen here. I hear you helped Mason get Marshall home. I hear you handled young Hank Sobers well, and I’ve had trouble with him in the past. I know he needs handling.’
I didn’t say anything. I waited.
He finished his beer.
‘I’ve got to move along. The wife’s got roast chicken for supper and I don’t want to be late. You’re welcome here. Pay no attention to Ross. I’ve told him not to bother you.’ He looked straight at me, his eyes twinkling. ‘The fact is, Mr. Devery, I believe in letting sleeping dogs lie. No one in this town is going to make trouble for you if you don’t make trouble for yourself. Fair enough?’
‘Fair enough, Sheriff,’ I said, my mouth a little dry.
He got to his feet, shook hands, waved to Joe and walked out on to the street.
As Joe had said: a real nice guy: one of the best, but I knew enough about cops to be sure, in spite of the welcome speech, he would keep an eye on me. He would be a fool if he didn’t, and one thing I was sure of: Sheriff McQueen was nobody’s fool.
Joe came over to pick up the empty beer glass.
‘The thing I like about Sam is his friendliness,’ he said as he wiped the table with a swab. ‘He’s been Sheriff here for close on twenty years. He makes a point of knowing everyone and getting on with them. Not like Deputy Ross who is looking for trouble all the time. I hear Ross is going to be transferred when there is a vacancy in Frisco... the sooner the better.’
‘Mr. Marshall not in tonight?’ I asked casually.
‘He doesn’t come here much and then only with Tom because he expects Tom to drive him home. No, Marshall does his drinking at home. He’s no fool. The last thing he wants is to lose his driving licence. He’d really be in a fix without a car, living where he does.’
Here was my chance.
‘Doesn’t his wife drive?’
Joe shrugged.
‘I wouldn’t know, Mr. Devery. I’ve never set eyes on her. She never comes into town.’
‘Is that right? Must be lonely for her out there.’
‘It’s a funny thing but some women like being on their own,’ Joe said. ‘You take my wife. She spends all her time either gardening or staring at the tube. She’s not sociable like me.’
Two men came in and Joe hurried to serve them. I finished my drink, then waving to him, I went out into the hot sun and to my car.
That evening, after dinner, I sat on the veranda and mulled over the information I had gained. It did look as if Marshall was to inherit a million dollars. The fact that his aunt had been left a million by her husband gave substance to both Mason’s and Joe’s gossip. But how was I to be absolutely certain that she was going to leave all this money to Marshall? I would have to get more solid information before I began to think seriously about the operation.
I thought too about the Sheriff. He now knew my record. This, I told myself, after thinking about it, was inevitable. Sooner or later, he would have found out and it seemed to me it was better sooner than later. If Marshall’s money suddenly disappeared and McQueen only then discovered there was an ex-jailbird in this town, his suspicions would naturally centre on me, but knowing my record long before I began my operation, his suspicions might not be so concentrated.
I was interested in the scrap of information Joe had given me about Marshall’s wife. So she was a loner. I would need to know more about her before I could make a plan.
I went to bed that night, satisfied I had begun well. As I settled to sleep, I told myself I had to be patient. A million dollars was worth waiting for.
I learned nothing new about Marshall during the next three days. I avoided asking questions when talking to Bert and Joe, Marshall’s name didn’t come up and although I was tempted, I didn’t bring it up myself.
On the fourth morning, when Mrs. Hansen came up with my breakfast, I got a break, although, at the time I didn’t know it.
‘Could I ask you a favour, Mr. Devery?’ she said as she put down the tray.
‘Why, of course.’
‘My sister with her husband lives on a farm and every so often she sends me farm produce. She is sending me two ducks by rail. I don’t trust the rail people to deliver at once. I wouldn’t want the birds to spoil in this hot weather. They’ll be on the six-twenty from Frisco. Could I ask you to be so kind as to collect them for me?’
‘Why sure. No problem.’
‘Just tell Mr. Haines, the stationmaster, you’re collecting them for me and many thanks, Mr. Devery.’
After the day’s work, I drove to the railroad station. Leaving the car in the parking lot, I walked into the station and found Mr. Haines, a bent, white-haired little man on the platform.
I introduced myself, telling him I was to collect a parcel for Mrs. Hansen. He squinted at me, nodded and shook hands.