I unlocked the cabin door and we went in.
“This is pretty good,” Roy said, looking around. “Even a TV set.” He moved
to the window and looked across at the bungalow. “Is that where you are?”
“Where else do you think I’d be?”
“Yeah—your way with women.” He lit a cigarette, then dumping his bag on a
chair, he began to unpack. “This guy Jenson must have been nuts to have
walked out of here for a woman. I can’t figure it. Seems to me his wife has it
all—what more does he want?”
“It’s my guess he’s settled for some fat, comfortable woman of his own age,”
I said. “Lola is twenty years younger than he is, and she isn’t all that easy to
live with.”
Roy drew on his cigarette, sucked down smoke, then exhaled in a long,
steady stream.
“Why didn’t he get rid of her then and keep this place for himself?”
Roy was no fool. I could see he was puzzled by the set-up. I had to convince
him or he might begin to suspect the truth.
“That’s easier said than done,” I said. “You can’t just get rid of your wife
when you happen to feel like it.”
His dark, quizzing eyes searched my face.
“How long has he been gone?”
“Four or five weeks.”
“And she’s heard nothing from him?”
“No.”
“She doesn’t know for certain there is another woman?”
“She’s pretty sure.”
He shook his head.
“But he could walk in here at any moment and catch you in bed with her?”
“He’s not coming back, Roy.”
He looked sharply at me, then away.
“Does she know you’re in this fix, Chet?”
“Yes. I told her.”
He had emptied his bag by now. His things were scattered on the bed.
“This place must be quite a gold mine. What’s the weekly take?”
The take had been less than I had expected it would be. Jenson had made his
money from his scrap deals.
This I had discovered after the first week of his
death. Scrap was something I didn’t understand, nor did Lola. Since Jenson’s
hand had come off the wheel, the scrap trade had come to a standstill. Lola
and I had had to rely on what the lunch room, the gas pumps and the repair
shed brought in. This turned out to be a lot less than I had thought. We made
a net profit of around 200 dollars a week, and this we divided: half for her,
half for me.
With nothing to spend my share on, I had put it every in the safe to
accumulate with the rest of my savings. What she did with hers I didn’t ask.
“It’s not as good as you might think—around two hundred week.”
Roy pulled a face.
“You surprise me. I’d have thought it would be a lot more.” He crossed to the
window and looked out. “There must be ways of turning a set-up like this
into big money, Chet.”
“You’re wrong. It’s too off the beaten track.”
“But that’s the whole point.” He looked steadily at me. “This is just the place
for some kind of racket. You can see that, can’t you?”
“What do you mean?”
“You don’t want to stay here buried for the rest of your days. You and I have
always been after the big money. We could dream up something that would
turn this place into a gold mine.”
I sat on the bed, frowning at him.
“Dream up—what?”
“I’m just coasting, but how about the Mexican emigrants? You could land
them here at two hundred bucks a head. It’s the ideal place for them. Have
you thought of that?”
“If you had been in Farnworrh for a couple of months, Roy,” I said quietly,
“you wouldn’t talk this way.”
He ran his fingers through his hair and grinned uneasily at me.
“Yeah, I know how you feel. We handled that job wrong. We acted like a
couple of dopes. We should have watched that guy Cooper for at least a week. We should have found out what his habits really were. We handled that
job badly.”
“We shouldn’t have handled it at all. We asked for trouble and we got it—at least I did. Let’s get this straight, I’m through with rackets of any kind.”
“I understand that, but I’ve still got the money itch. Sooner or later I’ve got to
get my hands on a big slice of money. If I don’t get it soon, I’ll never get it.”
“You’re not going to get it here; make up your mind about that,” I said.
He shrugged, then grinned.
“Well, okay. So we’re through with rackets.” He went over to the chest of
drawers and pulled open a drawer. “Just so long as I know.” He dumped
some shirts into the drawer, then he looked at me. “Haven’t you the urge to
make big money any more, Chet?”
“No,” I said. “Farnworth cured me. If you had been there, it would have
cured you too.”
“Pretty tough, huh?” He took a collection of handkerchiefs and socks off the
bed, pulled open the second drawer and tumbled them in.
Then he said
sharply, “H*ell! What’s this?”
The tone of his voice made me stiffen.
“What’s what?”
He put his hand into the drawer and lifted out the .45 Colt that had shot
Jenson. I had forgotten I had put it into the drawer after Lola had killed
Jenson. I had forgotten it even existed.
The sight of the gun in Roy’s hand turned me cold. I made a movement to
snatch it from him, but just managed to control myself.
“That’s Jenson’s,” I said, trying to make my voice sound casual. “I found it
when he left.”
Roy was staring at the gun. He spun the cylinder, then he sniffed at the barrel.
“This has been fired recently,” he said. He drew out the empty cartridge case and dropped it on the bed. “Did you know that?” He looked searching at me.
“Who got killed, Chet?”
It was an effort for me to meet that stare, but I did it.
“No one got killed,” I said. “Jenson used to shoot at hawks. He must have
forgotten to clean the gun.”
“Shooting hawks with a .45?” Roy put the gun down on the top of the chest.
“He must have been some shot.”
“He never hit anything.” I went over and picked up the gun, shoving it into
my hip pocket. “Well, it’s getting late. I guess I’ll turn in. You got
everything?”
“Couldn’t be better.” There was a flat note in his voice made me uneasy.
“How about night work? What happens?”
“We’ll take it in turns. I’m on tonight. You can take tomorrow night.”
“Fine. Well, it’s been good—this talk. It’s wonderful to see you again, Chet. I
can’t believe my good luck.”
I slapped him on the shoulder.
“Nor can I.” I was now at the door. “Get a good sleep.”
“I sure will … and Chet …”
I paused.
He rubbed his jaw as he stared at me.
“Yeah?”
“Clean that gun. A dirty gun is a dangerous thing to leave leave lying around.”
I couldn’t meet his eyes.
“You’re right. Well … so long …”
“So long, pal.”
I went out of the cabin. Seeing no lights on in the lunch room, but a light on
in Lola’s bedroom, I walked over to the bungalow.
Lola was in her bra and panties, sitting on the bed. As I came in, she began to
strip off her stockings.
“Gee! I’m tired,” she said, yawning. “I like your friend, Chet.”
“Yes, he’s the best.” I took the gun from my hip pocket and put it in the top
drawer of the chest. Her back was to me and she didn’t see me do it. I told
myself I would clean the gun tomorrow. “We three will get along all right.
You know, it’s a funny thing, but Roy isn’t interested in women. It beats me,
but since he married and since she walked out on him, he has never looked at
another woman.”
Lola got up and took off the rest of her clothes. She reached for her
nightdress while I watched her.
As she slipped the nightdress on, she said, “Every man is interested in a
woman—it depends on the woman.”
“I’ve known him for thirty years,” I said. “There was only one woman—the
one he married, and he was sick of her in a couple of years.”
Lola got into bed.
“She couldn’t have been much.” She raised her arms above head, stretching
and yawning. “You’ll be in by one, Chet?”
“Yes.” I came over to her and kssed her. “Sleep well. I’ll try not to disturb
you.”
“You won’t. I feel dead.” She pulled the bedclothes up to her chin and smiled
at me. “I forgot to ask you—everything all right while I’ve been away?”
I felt a little kick under my heart. I had forgotten Ricks.
The excitement of
meeting Roy had put that thin vulture right out of my mind.
Lola saw my change of expression and she sat up abruptly.
“What is it, Chet?”
“Ricks was here this afternoon. He needled me into hitting him.”
“You hit him?”
Her voice shot up a note.
“I hit him. I had to.”
She gripped my arm.
“Tell me! What happened?”
I told her. She sat boll upright in bed, the bedclothes clutched to her, her
green eyes wide as she listened.
“I offered him ten bucks,” I concluded, “and he threw them at me. He said he
was going to talk to the cops.”
She dropped back on the pillow.
“He won’t,” she said. “Even if he did, they know what a scrounging rat he is.
They won’t listen to him.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“You were cr@zy to hit him, Chet.”
“I know. Well, we’ll see.”
“I’m sure they won’t listen to him.”
I bent and kssed her.
“Go to sleep. I’ll be in around one o’clock.”
“Tomorrow night we’ll go to bed early and let Roy look after the place.”
I ran my fingers through her silky hair.
“That’s a date,” I said.
***************
TO BE CONTINUED
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