Do Me a Favour Drop Dead

Chapter Four

Parking on Main Street was tight, but I spotted a man about to get into his car a few yards from Joe’s saloon. I flicked down my trafficator, braked and stopped. The driver of a car behind me hooted, then passed, giving me a frustrated glare. The parked car moved into the stream of traffic and I manoeuvred into the hole.

As I got out of the car, Deputy Sheriff Ross came stalking down the sidewalk. His small cop eyes were bleak, his lips swollen and there was a bruise on his jaw. Marshall had certainly belted him. You don’t get those puffed lips from a kiss. We both ignored each other.

Locking the car, I walked over to Joe’s saloon.

The reception committee was waiting: Joe Pinner, Yule Olson and Tom Mason. They were sitting at a corner table, away from the bar.

As I joined them the city clock struck six.

‘Hi, there, Keith!’ Pinner boomed, beaming at me. ‘What’ll you drink?’

The way I was feeling, I needed a treble whisky, but I wanted to continue to create a good impression, so, seeing they were all drinking beer, I said, ‘A beer would be fine, thanks,’ and I dropped into a chair beside him. Then looking at the other two, I said, ‘Gentlemen.’

‘Hi, Keith,’ Mason said, nodding and smiling.

More reserved, Olson said, ‘It is my pleasure, Mr. Devery.’

You three stuff shirt hypocrites! I thought as Pinner signalled to Joe. There was a pause while Joe opened a bottle, poured and came over. He set the beer in front of me as he said, ‘Hi, Mr. Devery.’

There were some half dozen men propping up the bar and they were all looking towards us, concentrating on me. I guessed the whole town knew by now that I had met the mysterious Mrs. Beth Marshall.

Unable to contain himself, Pinner said, ‘Well Keith, how did you find her?’

The three of them leaned forward expectantly.

How did I find her?

I wasn’t going to tell them that she was the best lay I had ever had, that I couldn’t wait until tomorrow, when we had arranged to meet again, for a repeat performance. I wasn’t going to tell them that, as we laid side by side in the cool little motel room, she had told me in that deep sexy voice of hers that the moment she had peered at me through the curtain when I had brought her husband back from the station I had set her on fire. Nor was I going to tell them that there was something about her that spooked me: that sent the feeling of a cold dead finger up my spine even when we were coupled together, and even when we had reached the top of the hill, exploded and slid down into sweating, dazed exhaustion. I wasn’t going to tell them any of that.

Instead, I sat back, frowning and appeared to hesitate, then I said, ‘A bit of a screwball. I guess you could call her an introvert. She scarcely spoke a word.’ I looked at Pinner with my most beguiling smile. ‘I tried to make contact... nothing so far.’

Their faces showed their disappointment.

‘So you got no idea how she reacts to our town?’ Pinner asked, tugging at his moustache.

I certainly had, but I wasn’t going to tell them what she had said about Wicksteed and everyone who lived in the town. Her scathing comments had even surprised me.

‘The opportunity didn’t come up,’ I lied. I drank some beer, then went on, ‘But it could...’ and let it hang.

The three sat forward.

‘Is that a fact?’ Mason asked.

Glancing over my shoulder, I shifted my chair forward, then lowering my voice, I said, ‘Strictly in confidence, I doubt if Mrs. Marshall will ever learn to drive. Some women are too scared to drive. Some women haven’t the concentration to drive. Some women have a blind spot when at the wheel of a car. From what I’ve seen of Mrs. Marshall’s efforts so far, I’d say the chances of her passing the test is more than remote.’

The three looked at each other.

Olson said, ‘So what is the position, Mr. Devery?’

‘I’ve been worrying about it, Mr. Olson. I want to be helpful. I realize how important it is to you to know how she reacts to Wicksteed.’ I paused and looked at the three of them, then went on, ‘It seems to me there are two alternatives.’

Pinner said sharply, ‘And what are they?’

‘Well, I guess, the honest thing to do is to tell Marshall that his wife is not capable of passing the test and so save him the cost of further lessons. If I tell him that I lose contact with Mrs. Marshall and I won’t be able to get the information you want.’ I paused to let that sink in, then went on, ‘The other alternative is for me to go on giving her lessons and hope she will unwind.’

Olson said, frowning, ‘Unwind? What does that mean?’

‘I mean for her to relax. Once she relaxes, I could ask her how she reacts to Wicksteed. I might even persuade her to confide in me about her future plans if her husband died.’ I looked straight at Pinner. ‘That’s the information you want, isn’t it?’

Pinner tugged at his moustache as he nodded.

‘That’s what we want, Keith,’ he said. ‘You go on giving her driving lessons. You do that.’

Olson shifted uneasily.

‘Just a moment. If Mr. Devery is so certain she won’t be able to drive...’ He paused and looked at Mason. ‘I’m not sure I approve of this. Frank is my client. If Mr. Devery is satisfied that Mrs. Marshall can’t pass the test, I think Frank should be told.’

Before Mason could express an opinion, I said, ‘Fine. I was only trying to be helpful. Okay, Mr. Olson, as soon as Frank gets home tonight I’ll telephone him and tell him how it is.’

‘Now wait a minute,’ Mason said hastily. ‘Don’t let us rush this. We want to know Mrs. Marshall’s attitude to our town. Let me ask you a question, Keith. Are you absolutely certain that Mrs. Marshall won’t pass the test?’

I nearly laughed. This was exactly what I was hoping he would say.

‘Can anyone be absolutely certain of anything. No — she just might, but I doubt it.’

‘So why don’t you give her a few more lessons and while you are with her, ask a few questions?’ Mason asked. ‘How’s about that?’

I looked at Olson.

‘I’m only too happy to help. You tell me what you want, and I’ll do it.’

Pinner slapped his hand down on the table, making the glasses jump.

‘Tom’s got the solution!’

Olson hesitated, then nodded.

‘There can be no harm in giving her a few more lessons. Yes, why not?’

Mason put his hand on my arm.

‘You go ahead, Keith. Suppose we all meet here Friday evening. That’ll give you three days. Then, if you are sure she won’t be able to drive, you tell Frank.’ He smiled at me, knowingly. ‘But in the meantime, try to get the information we want.’

‘You can rely on me, gentlemen.’ I finished my beer. ‘So here Friday at six.’

‘That’s it,’ Pinner said.

This is supposed to be my day off.’ I got to my feet. ‘I’m taking a swim if you’ll excuse me.’ I smiled at them. ‘Friday then.’ We shook hands all round, then waving to Joe at the bar, I walked out to my car.

The last thing I wanted was a swim. All I longed to do was to flop on my bed and hope my body would come together again.

Making love to Beth was like getting entangled in a cement mixer.

The following morning, still feeling rough, I arrived at the Driving school at 09.00 to be told by Maisie that I was booked solid for one hour driving lessons until 15.00.

I told Bert that I had spent half my day off giving Mrs. Marshall her first driving lesson. I could have saved my breath.

He already knew. The grapevine in this town was fierce.

‘That was mighty good of you, Keith,’ he said. ‘It’s good business. We can charge Marshall double time with you going up to his house and back.’ He looked inquiringly at me. ‘How does she shape?’

I didn’t tell him that her shape, when stripped off, was sensational. Instead, I said it was early days, but she didn’t shape up too well.

‘Never mind. It’s good money.’ He began to open his mail.

‘Did you think any more about my proposition, Keith?’

Proposition? I stared at him blankly, then remembered he had offered me a partnership.

‘Not yet, Bert. What with one thing and another...’

He looked sad, then shrugged.

‘There’s time. I just hoped you would have thought about it.’

‘I’m sorry, Bert. I will.’

‘Tom will be back tomorrow.’

Tom?

I pulled myself together. Marshall and his money plus Beth had blotted everything else from my mind.

Tom Lucas, I now remembered, was Bert’s driving instructor before I had arrived on the scene.

‘So he is coming back?’

‘That’s it, Keith. He’s okay now and he’ll ease the pressure.’

Maisie looked in to tell me my first pupil was waiting.

Although I kept busy, the morning dragged. At lunchtime, I went to a call booth, found Marshall’s home number and dialled.

‘He is staying the night at ’Frisco.’ A pause, then she said, ‘This is Mrs. Marshall speaking.’

‘I can’t be with you until five. When will he be back?’

‘He is staying the night at Frisco.’ A pause, then she said, ‘Do you want to spend the night with me?’

Did I want to? Did I want to grab Marshall’s million dollar inheritance? But the red light flashed up and this time I paid attention.

‘Let’s talk about it, Beth,’ and I hung up.

As I walked across to Joe’s saloon for a sandwich and a Coke, I decided that, much as I wanted to spend the night with Beth, it was too dangerous. How would I explain to Mrs. Hansen that I wasn’t sleeping this night in my room? I had already had a session with her, telling her that Mrs. Beth Marshall seemed a little odd, that she was unfriendly and that she scarcely said a word. Obviously disappointed, Mrs. Hansen had shaken her head as she said, ‘I don’t like the sound of her.’

Reluctantly, I decided I couldn’t spend the night with Beth. The grapevine was too fierce. It would have to be a quick screw and then au revoir.

Around 16.45, I drove up the dirt road and into Marshall’s garage. I closed the garage doors, then walked up the steps and as I was about to thumb the bell, the front door jerked open.

She was ready for action. She was naked under the see-through white wrap. Catching hold of my wrist, she pulled me up the broad stairway and into a bedroom: probably a guest room. Her fingers were already unbuttoning my shirt as I kicked the door shut.

It was a repeat performance. Only this time, she was at home. She had no inhibitions. When we reached the top of the hill, she gave a wild cry that echoed through the still, lonely house.

This time, the slide down the hill was slower, but the feeling of being fed through a cement mixer remained.

We dozed the way satiated lovers always doze. The room was cool, the light dim. The rustle of leaves in the breeze was the only sound to come through the open window.

After a while we surfaced. I found my pack of cigarettes, gave her one, took one myself and lit up for both of us.

‘You’re a marvellous lover,’ she said drowsily.

‘You are the best ever.’

Lying on the bed, inhaling smoke, my eyes closed, I wondered how many times these banal words had been said by other lovers.

‘Will you stay the night, Keith?’

That was what I wanted to do. She had thrown a hook in me. Sexually, she was the most exciting woman I had ever known, and, in the past I had known a lot of women. She had now such a hook in me that I hesitated before saying, ‘No. I want to, Beth, but it’s too dangerous. You may not know it, but the whole goddamn town is watching me. I am the first to contact you... you who are the second most important person to them. Everyone is watching me. Did you know that?’

She moved her long body on the crumpled sheet.

‘I could be the first most important person, not the second most important person,’ she said so quietly I scarcely heard her, but I did.

I looked at her.

She lay there, naked, a cigarette between her long, slim fingers, her eyes closed, her face as expressionless as a death mask.

‘Say that again.’ I raised myself up and looked down at her.

‘Nothing.’ She must have known I was leaning over her, but her eyes remained closed. ‘Women talk... nothing.’

She moved her hand. Hot ash fell on my chest.

‘When am I seeing you again, Keith?’

I brushed off the ash.

‘Do you know he is going to be worth a million dollars when his aunt dies?’

She moved her long legs, opening them, then bringing them together.

‘Know? Why else do you imagine I married him?’

I thought of Marshall: fat, a drunk and then looking at her: lean, long: a lioness.

‘Yes. There could be no other reason.’

‘And you?’ She half turned her head so she could look at me, her black eyes remote. ‘You are interested in his money, aren’t you Keith?’

This startled me, but I kept my face expressionless as I said, ‘I am interested in money... any money.’

She gave a malicious little laugh.

‘Well, he hasn’t got it yet. So no one, including you and including me, need to get interested.’

‘That’s where you’re wrong.’ I told her about the Planning committee and how I had become involved and that I was playing along with them and that I was seeing them on Friday evening.

She listened while she stared up at the ceiling.

‘By playing along with them,’ I went on, ‘it gives me a legitimate excuse to be with you if we are seen together. There are eyes everywhere, Beth.’

‘Hmmm.’ She stretched her long legs. ‘You can tell them Frank won’t give them a cent. He hates Wicksteed. If he died, I wouldn’t give them a cent either.’

‘I won’t tell them that. That’s not the way to handle it if we’re going to go on seeing each other.’

She shrugged her naked shoulders.

‘Tell them what you like, but you now know not one cent of old Mrs. Fremlin’s money will ever be spent on this stinking little town... that’s for real: neither by Frank nor by me.’

She rolled over to stub out her cigarette. She had a long, lean beautiful back right down to the cleft of her buttocks.

‘Keith... don’t underestimate Frank. No one... repeat no one... will get anything from him. He may be a drunk, but he still remains smart. Don’t make any plans.’

I stiffened, staring at her.

‘Plans?’

She didn’t look at me. Her eyes were half closed, her lips parted in a half smile.

‘I’m not with you, Beth. What do you mean... plans?’

‘There isn’t one man nor one woman in Wicksteed who isn’t hoping to grab some of the money when that old woman dies.’ Her smile twisted cynically. ‘And you are no exception.’

‘And neither are you,’ I said.

Again the malicious little laugh.

‘I’ll get the lot anyway if he dies. He is years older than I am and he is drinking himself to death. I can wait.’

‘Are you sure he is leaving the money to you?’

She nodded.

‘I’m sure. I have seen his will.’

‘He could change his mind.’

‘Not now... his mind isn’t capable of changing.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘He drinks. He has set ideas. He’s made a will. I’ve seen it. He won’t be bothered to make another. Why should he care anyway? He can’t use the money when he’s dead.’

‘What would you do if he died and you got all this money?’

She drew in a long slow breath. Her hands moved over her tiny breasts and caressed them.

‘Do? I would go back to Frisco where I was born. A woman with a million dollars can have a ball in Frisco.’

‘Alone?’

She looked at me, her black eyes suddenly glittering and she dropped her hand on mine.

‘You are never alone with a million dollars, but would you want to come along?’

Would I want to?

‘I would want to come along, Beth, without the million dollars.’

Her fingers tightened on mine.

‘That’s a pretty speech.’ She smiled at me, her eyes remote again. ‘But, Keith, no man on earth could take me away from Frank while he is alive.’

Somewhere below, a clock struck six.

I remembered where I was and that I had a half hour drive back to Wicksteed.

‘I must go. If I’m late for dinner there will be gossip.’ I swung off the bed and began to dress. ‘The same time tomorrow?’

‘Hmmm.’

We looked at each other, then I bent and kissed her. Her lips felt dry and they didn’t move undermine.

‘Then tomorrow...’

As I reached the door, she said quietly, ‘Keith...’

I paused and looked at her, lying flat on her back, naked, her long legs tightly together, her black silky hair spread on the pillow, her lips parted in a strange little smile.

‘Go on,’ I said.

‘Don’t make any plans without me.’

I stared at her, again feeling that spooky feeling.

‘Plans?’

‘You know. You want his money and so do I.’ She lifted her hair and resettled it on the pillow. ‘Both of us, Keith... both of us together.’

The clock chimed the quarter hour.

‘We’ll talk about it tomorrow,’ I said.

Leaving her, I walked down the stairway and to my car. As I drove down the dirt road, I thought of what she had said.

There was something about her that made me uneasy. There was something fatal about her. Fatal? An odd word, but the only word that seemed to fit her.

How had she guessed? Intuition?

You want his money.

Then she had said: ‘Don’t underestimate Frank. No one... repeat no one... is going to get the money when he gets it.’

A warning?

Then she had said: ‘Don’t make any plans without me.’

Unless I was reading her wrong, and I was sure I wasn’t, this was a plain invitation to join her in some plan to get his money.

As I edged into the traffic on the highway, I decided I would have to play it by ear. I had time, I told myself. The old lady was still alive. Tomorrow, I would talk again to Beth and there must be no more hints, no more hedging.

Leaving the car in Mrs. Hansen’s garage, I walked into the hall and started up the stairs to my room. Mrs. Hansen came out of the living room, a handkerchief in her hands, her eyes red from crying.

‘Oh, Mr. Devery, I do apologize... your dinner will be late.’

I paused, staring at her.

‘That’s okay, Mrs. Hansen. Has something happened?’

‘My dear friend... Mrs. Fremlin... passed away an hour ago.’

My heart skipped a beat, then began to race. Somehow, I forced the right expression on my face.

‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Thank you, Mr. Devery. It was inevitable, but it is still a great shock and a great loss to me.’

I said all the things one should say on such an occasion. I said not to bother about dinner. I would eat out. I even patted her shoulder.

As I walked back to the garage, all I could think of was that Marshall was now a millionaire and the time I had thought I had now had run out.

On the way down town, I stopped off at a call booth.

‘She’s dead,’ I said when Beth came on the line.

I heard her catch her breath.

‘Say that again!’

‘She died an hour ago. It’ll be all over the town by now.’

‘At last!’ The note of triumph in her voice gave me that spooky feeling again.

‘You are now the wife of a millionaire,’ I said.

She didn’t reply, but I could hear her quick breathing over the line.

‘I must talk to you, Beth... about plans. I’ll come up tonight when it is dark.’

She reacted immediately.

‘No! As soon as he knows, he’ll be back. He’s probably on his way now. No, you must keep away from me!’

Standing in the hot call booth, I suddenly realized that there would be no more driving lessons. Marshall could afford a chauffeur. There would be no more rolling in the hay with Beth. Marshall would give up his real estate business in Frisco and do his drinking at home.

‘When do we meet, Beth?’ I asked, suddenly anxious.

‘I don’t know.’ Her voice sounded remote. ‘I’ll arrange something. Keep away. I’ll call you.’

‘Now listen, Beth, this is important. We’ve got to meet somewhere and soon. We...’ I stopped talking, realizing she had hung up.

Slowly, I replaced the receiver, pushed open the booth door and walked back to my car.

This woman had really thrown a hook in me. As I sat in the car, staring through the dusty windshield, I realized that even if she hadn’t been the wife of a millionaire, even if she had been working in a restaurant, I would still want her. Closing my eyes, I could hear her wild cry as she had reached the top of the hill. No woman I had ever been with had reacted to my thrusts as she had and this truly hooked me. Now this sudden bleak outlook. It had, of course been too easy. I had stupidly imagined that I could drive up to that house every day with the pretext of teaching her to drive but instead, get her on the bed.

Well, she had said she would arrange something. I would have to wait. I had always been patient, but waiting for Beth was something else beside.

I started the motor and drove towards Wicksteed.

I returned to my room soon after 21.00. To avoid running into any of the Planning committee, I had eaten at a cheap restaurant off Main Street, but even there, everyone was talking about Mrs. Fremlin’s death.

I sat at a corner table and chewed through a tough steak and listened.

The conversation floated around me.

I bet old Frank will drink himself to death now he’s getting all that money.

It wouldn’t surprise me now he’s collecting that money that he left Wicksteed.

Joe Pinner had great hopes that Frank will put up some money. The amusement park idea is great. We’ll all benefit... and so on and so on.

A newcomer came in: a big, fat man, shabbily dressed, who joined the other six men at a table near mine.

‘I’ve just seen Frank,’ he said. ‘Just came off the train. He’s drunker than a skunk.’ He gave a bellow of laughter. ‘Tom Mason was there and drove him home. Tom’s no fool. He has his eye on Frank’s money.’

And he’s not the only one, I thought, paid my check and went out to my car.

Groups of people were standing around, talking. There was only one topic of conversation in Wicksteed this night.

Back in my room, I turned on the TV set and sat down. After three or four minutes, I got up, turned the set off and began to prowl around the room.

I had Beth on my mind.

Lust for her moved through me like a knife thrust.

When was I going to see her again?

She was in my blood now like a virus. I’ll arrange something. But what? How long would I have to wait? I thought of Marshall. Several times while Beth had talked she had said: When he dies: if he dies: when he is dead.

With Marshall out of the way, she would have his money.

Don’t make any plans without me, Keith.

Lighting a cigarette, I continued to prowl around the room. Death, I thought, solved so many problems. If Marshall died...

I paused to stare out at the moonlit beach.

I couldn’t walk up to him, tap him on his fat chest and say, ‘Do me a favour — drop dead.’ I couldn’t do that, but that was now my thinking. If he did drop dead, it would be more than a favour. I could have Beth and also his money.

A gentle tapping on my door snapped me out of this thinking. I opened up.

Mrs. Hansen said, ‘You are wanted on the telephone, Mr. Devery. It’s Mr. Marshall.’

I stared at her, feeling spooked.

‘Mr. Marshall?’

She nodded. Her eyes bright with excitement.

‘Thank you.’

I moved by her and went down the stairs.

‘Is that you, Keith?’ There was no mistaking Marshall’s booming voice. ‘Have you heard the news?’

‘Who hasn’t? My condolences and my congratulations.’

He laughed. I could tell by his laugh, he was pretty drunk.

‘It comes to us all, and it wasn’t too soon. Listen, Keith, suppose you come up here? I want to talk to you.’

This was so unexpected, I stared blankly at the wall for a long moment, then I said, ‘You mean right now?’

‘Why not? Let’s make a night of it. How’s about it?’

‘Fine... I’m on my way.’

‘I mean a night of it, Keith. Bring a toothbrush. We’ve plenty of spare beds,’ and he hung up.

Aware Mrs. Hansen was still hovering, I said, ‘He sounds a little drunk. He’s asking me to spend the night with him.’

Not giving her a chance to comment, I went up to my room, threw my shaving and wash kit into a holdall, added a clean shirt and pyjamas and then hurried down to the hall.

Mrs. Hansen was still hovering. I waved to her, knowing for sure, the moment she heard my car drive away, she would be on the telephone to her brother, spreading the news.

I had this feeling of fatality which I had had ever since I had met Beth. I now accepted the fact that she meant more to me than money. And now, for no reason I could think of, Marshall had invited me to spend the night in their house. Why? Again fatality?

Parking the car outside the house, I thumbed the bell push. Lights were on in the living room. As I stood in the moonlight, my heart beating unevenly, I heard heavy footfalls. The door jerked open and Marshall stood there, his fat, red, smiling face shiny with sweat.

‘Come on in and join the big shot,’ he said, lurched a little, grabbed hold of my arm and led me into the living room.

I looked quickly around. There was no sign of Beth.

‘Have a drink.’ He waved to a half empty bottle of Scotch. ‘There’s plenty more.’ Lurching by me, he poured a big drink, slopped in charge water, then thrust the glass into my hand. He then lurched to an armchair and collapsed into it. ‘I guess I’ve tied one on, Keith,’ he said. ‘Who wouldn’t? A million dollars! At last! Something to celebrate huh?’

I sat opposite him.

‘Congratulations, Frank.’

He squinted at me.

‘Yeah.’ He paused, screwing up his eyes then went on. ‘You know something, Keith? I like you. You are my kind of people. You’re not like these creeps who are after my money. I like you.’ He blew out his cheeks. ‘Don’t pay too much attention to what I’m saying... I guess I’m drunk, but I’m telling you for a fact, I like you.’

‘Thanks, Frank,’ I said. ‘People meet... people take to each other. It happens.’

He peered drunkenly at me.

‘Do you like me, Keith?’ There was a pleading, unhappy note in his voice.

Do me a favour... drop dead.

But I wasn’t going to say that to him. Instead, I lifted my glass in a salute.

‘You are my kind of people too, Frank.’

‘Yeah.’ He nodded. ‘I felt it. When you drove me back here and then walked all that way back, I told myself you were my people.’

I wondered how much longer this stupid, drunken talk could continue. I wondered where Beth was.

‘Coming back in the train, Keith, I got thinking,’ he went on, ‘I’m going to be busy. I’ve got to wind up my estate business. I’ve got all kinds of plans.’ He rubbed his hand over his sweating face and peered at me. ‘Tell me something, how did you get on with my wife... with Beth?’

This was so unexpected, I sat still, staring at him.

‘Huh?’ He frowned, trying to focus me. ‘How did you get on with her?’

‘Fine.’ My voice was husky, ‘but she isn’t easy to teach.’

He laughed: his great bellowing laugh.

‘Between you and me, Keith, she is conning you. I know she can handle a car as well as you can, but she doesn’t want to drive me.’ He lifted his heavy shoulders in a shrug. ‘I don’t blame her. I’m a drunk. These creeps in this town stare and yak.’ He closed his eyes, shook his head, opened his eyes as he said, ‘She is a very special woman, Keith. That’s why I married her.’ He blew out his cheeks, then went on, ‘I met her at a restaurant off the Frisco highway. I went in there for lunch and there she was. She hooked me. There was that something about her...’ He shook his head. ‘Something very special. I’ve screwed around in my day, but this woman... something very special, Keith.’

As if I didn’t know. I just sat there, listening.

‘I went in there every day for a week and the more I saw her the more I got hooked. She seemed to like me and when she told me she had had enough of the restaurant, it was my chance. So we got married. Then I found out she was a real loner.’ He grimaced. ‘Well, we all have our kinks. I don’t give a damn. She runs the house, cooks well, looks after the garden... so why the hell should I care?’ He pointed a shaking finger at me. ‘She’s reliable, Keith. That’s what I like about her. I know when I get back from work, she’ll have a good dinner for me. I know I’ll get a clean shirt when I want one. I know there’ll always be whisky in the house... that’s what she is... reliable.’

I continued to listen, watching him as he picked up his glass, stared at it, then finished the drink.

‘Now what was I saying?’ He frowned, shook his head, then peered at me. ‘Yeah. I was telling you... coming back in the train, I got thinking.’ He held out his glass. ‘Let’s have another, Keith.’

I got up, took his glass and fixed him a whisky and soda that would have knocked out a mule.

‘Thanks.’ He took the glass, drank, sighed, nodded, then went on, ‘How much is Ryder paying you?’

‘Two hundred.’

‘That’s not much. Look, Keith, I’m going to be busy. I can’t drive a car. I want someone to take me around.’ He leaned forward. ‘I thought of you. How would you like to be my chauffeur? How’s about it?’

Again this was so unexpected, I just sat there, staring at him.

He waved his glass at me, grinning.

‘How do you like the idea?’

I drew in a long, slow breath.

‘Just what would you want me to do, Frank?’

He nodded approvingly.

That’s a good question. You would have to live here, take me to the railroad station, meet me, take me around and maybe help around in the house.’ He raised his hand. ‘Now don’t think this is a pissy little job I’m offering you. Okay, maybe it looks like it, but it is only until I get the money and get my driving licence back. I’m asking you to help out until I’m fixed. As soon as I get the money, Keith, I’m getting out of this god-awful town. I’m planning to buy a house in Carmel. Have you ever been to Carmel? It’s a great little place. I’ve got my eye on a house that is coming into the market: really something with ten acres, a big swimming pool, you name it, it’s got it. Beth won’t be able to handle it, but you can. I would want you to handle the staff, look after the entertaining.’ He belched, shook his head, took a drink, then went on, ‘Money makes money. A guy worth a million bucks has to circulate. Now look, Keith, I’ll pay you right now seven hundred against Ryder’s two hundred, but when I’m fixed, you’ll get a damn sight more. What do you say? How’s about it?’

You would have to live here... maybe help around the house.

My heart began to race. If I took him up on this, I would be right next to Beth and that was what I wanted, but I warned myself not to appear too eager. I mustn’t let him suspect what Beth meant to me.

‘I appreciate this, Frank,’ I said, ‘but Ryder wants me to be his partner. I’ve been considering his offer. He wants me to have his business when he retires.’

Marshall squinted at me.

‘A one horse business in a one horse town. Use your head, Keith. You throw in with me and you’ll be hitching your wagon to a star. Okay, you start small with me, but you’ll grow as I am going to grow. Do you know anything about accountancy?’

For a long moment I hesitated, then I said, ‘Before I was drafted into the army, Frank, I worked with Barton Sharman.’

He gaped at me.

‘You mean the stockbrokers?’

‘Correct.’

‘You worked with them?’

‘I handled fifteen percent of their most important clients.’

His bleary eyes narrowed.

‘Well, for God’s sake... what are you doing teaching creeps to drive?’

‘That’s a good question.’ I smiled at him, my hands moist, my heart thumping. ‘Vietnam unsettled me. I spent two years killing Viets and sweating it out in the jungle. When I returned to my desk, I couldn’t settle. I found money didn’t mean much to me. I got the urge to go footloose... so I went footloose. It’s as simple as that.’

He brooded for so long I thought he had fallen asleep.

Finally, he came to the surface and said, ‘I could use your brains, Keith. Come on... forget Ryder. Seven hundred to start and we work together... how’s about it?’

I could see the drink I had made him was the finalizer.

‘Suppose we talk about it tomorrow, Frank?’

‘Huh?’

‘Let’s talk about it tomorrow.’

‘Yeah. A good idea.’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t seem able to keep my goddamn eyes open.’ He heaved himself to his feet. ‘Come on. Let’s go to bed.’

He lurched out of the room and up the stairs. He paused outside the room in which Beth and I had made love.

‘That’s yours. We’ll talk tomorrow.’ Moving slowly and heavily, he walked to the end of the corridor, opened a door, turned on the light, went in and closed the door.

I stood in the corridor, my hand on the doorknob and wondered where Beth was. My lust for her raged through me, but I told myself, it would be asking for trouble to tap on doors, trying to find her. Drunk as he was, Marshall might not be drunk enough.

I walked into the room and snapped on the light.

She was lying on the bed, her hands behind her head, her white see-through wrap scarcely concealing her nakedness.

We looked at each other, then I shut the door and turned the key in the lock.