II
On the following morning, while I was clearing up after the lunch-hour and
when Jenson was minding the pumps, I said to Lola, “Get me the number of
the safe. I’ve got to have it before I can handle it.”
She looked sideways at me out of her hard green eyes. “I’ll get it.”
Later in the day, when Jenson was out of the way, she gave me a slip of paper.
The safe number told me Jenson had been sold an obsolete model which was now off the market. It hadn’t been a success because when the safe door was
shut it locked automatically. Most safe users preferred to lock the door with a
key, and besides, this model had proved to be one of the easiest safes to break
into.
It suited me. It wouldn’t take me ten minutes to open, and time was an
important factor in this set-up.
On Thursday, when Jenson and I were working together in the garage, he said, “I’ve to go to Wentworth on Saturday night: there’s a Legion meeting
on. Lola is on night shift. I’ll be glad if you’ll keep an eye open just in case
she runs into a trucker who doesn’t know his manners.”
I got a tight feeling in my chest.
Jenson trusted me. He was leaving his wife here alone with me and he wanted
me to look after her in case some trucker got fresh. It didn’t cross his mind
that, being alone with her, I might get the same idea.
“I’ll watch it, Mr. Jenson” I said. “You don’t have to worry.”
He grinned at me.
“I know that, Jack. When it comes to men, I don’t make mistakes. You’re all
right.”
Friday was my day off. I asked Jenson if I could borrow the Mercury.
“I thought I’d take a look at Tropica Springs.”
“You go ahead: sure, take the car.”
“I could do with some money. Let me have a hundred, will you, Mr. Jenson?”
“I’ll get it right away.” I could see he was a little surprised. I was asking for
so much, and again I cursed myself for letting him handle my savings.
He went off to the bungalow, and after a while he came back with the money.
I asked him if there was anything I could get him in Tropica Springs. He said
no, and then gave me a nudge in the ribs.
“Keep away from the cat houses, Jack, and don’t come home drunk.”
As I drove off, I saw Lola watching me from the kitchen.
You would look a d@mn sight more sulky, you chippy, I thought; if you knew
what I was cooking up for you.
The road over the mountain was tricky with a lot of hairpin bends, and although I kept pressing, it took me close on four hours to reach Tropica
Springs, That worried me. It cut my escape time down.
I had my escape plan pretty well organised. I had decided against taking a
plane. The airport would be the first place the police would check, and
besides, it was unlikely there would be a plane to New York at that hour of the morning.
Parking the car, I went to a travel bureau and inquired the time of trains
leaving for New York. I was told there was one leaving Tropica Springs at
12.30 a.m.
As Jenson was leaving for Wentworth at seven, I could get the safe open and
the money packed by seven-thirty and could be on my way to Tropica Springs by seven-forty-five. It would only take me a few minutes to fix Lola.
That gave me three-quarters of an hour to get the train.
Leaving the travel bureau, I went to a nearby store and bought myself a pair
of fawn-coloured trousers and a sports coat in grey with big green pouch
pockets: the kind of coat you can see corning a half a mile off. I bought a
nigger brown straw hat with a red band and a pair of moccasin shoes.
I also bought a big suitcase in which I put the clothes. I locked the suitcase in the
trunk of the Mercury, then I went to a chemist shop and bought a pair of sun
goggles and a bottle of hair bleach. These, too, I locked in the trunk.
Lola would give a description of me to the police: she would tell them what I
was wearing and it was essential to have a complete change of clothing as
unlike what I would wear when I left point of No Return as possible, and to
make the change before I reached Tropica Springs.
Satisfied that I had taken ore of everything, I drove out of Tropica Springs
and headed for Point of No Return.
At the end of the mountain road just as I came out into the desert there was a
big patch of scrub and prickly cactus. I stopped the car by it, and taking the
suitcase from the trunk, I set it down in the middle of the scrub.
I could easily find it again, and the chances of anyone else finding it was
remote enough not to bother me.
I got back to Point of No Return soon after seven, in time to help with the
dinner hour. We served eighteen dinners, and we were all kept on the go until eleven o’clock.
It was my night shift, and Jenson went off to bed soon after eleven, leaving
me to look after the pumps and Lola to finish up in the kitchen.
Around eleven-thirty, as I sat in the basket chair by the pumps, smoking and
looking at the evening paper, Lola came over to me.
“What were you doing in Tropica Springs?” she asked, pausing by me.
“What do you imagine I was doing?” I said, staring at her. “I went out there
to book a seat on a plane for San Francisco.”
“Is that where you are going?”
“Why should you care where I’m going?”
She lifted her shoulders indifferently.
“I don’t: so long as you open the safe.”
“I’ll open it.”
“Yes, you’ll open it,” she said, and walked away towards the bungalow.
I leaned back in the chair and| looked the place over. One more day, and then
I would never see it again. I had grown to love it. I took as much pride in it as
Jenson did. I was going to miss him too.
For the rest of the night I sat and brooded. I felt depressed.
I wondered what I
would be doing in a week’s time. It was a joke to think I would have a
suitcase crammed full of money that didn’t belong to me, and which I was
determined to send back to Jenson. With that kind of money I could go anywhere and do anything. I could buy a place like this somewhere on the
Florida coast, get married and settle down in comfort and safety for the rest
of my days.
But I couldn’t do it to Jenson: Not after the way he had treated me. I had to
send the money back to him. I could never live with myself if I didn’t.
Around six o’clock on Saturday evening, Jenson came out of the lunch room and joined me in the garage where I was working on the outboard motor.
“Going to wash now, Jack. You okay?”
“All fixed, Mr. Jenson.”
“I don’t reckon I’ll get back much before two o’clock,” he said “These Legion shindigs get a little wild after the business end of it.” He winked at me. “Don’t tell Lola that.”
“You have a good time,” I said. I couldn’t dig up a smile for him, I was
feeling too bad. In an hour he would walk out of my life and I would never see him again.
When he had gone, I went over to the station wagon we used to collect anything too heavy for the Mercury and not heavy enough for the truck. I
made sure the gas tank was full and checked the oil. It was in the station wagon I was going to make my getaway.
For the next twenty minutes we had a stream of cars going through Tropica
Springs and I was kept busy. I didn’t encourage any of the drivers to stop off
for a meal. As soon as Jenson had gone, I wanted to get at the safe.
There was no sign of Lola, but I could hear her clattering dishes in the
kitchen. Around five minutes to seven, Jenson out of the bungalow. He was
wearing his best suit and he had cigar clenched between his teeth. He looked
pretty good. He went into the lunch room to say goodbye to Lola.
I was getting the jitters now. I wished he would go so I could tackle the safe.
This hanging around was tearing my nerves to shreds.
Finally, just after seven, he came out and I joined him in Mercury.
“Well, have a good time,” I said, looking at him and thinking this was the last
time I would see him.
“Take care of things here, Jack. I don’t really want to go, but you know how
it is.”
“Sure. You don’t have to worry your head. Mrs. Jenson and I will handle it”
“Yeah.” He got into the Mercury.
I would have liked to have shaken his hand. Instead, I could only give him a casual wave.
The evening sun was just beginning to sink behind the mountain: in another
half-hour it would be dark.
“So long, Jack.”
“So long, Mr. Jenson.”
I watched the Mercury drive off in a cloud of dust. I stood there until I had
lost sight of it as it entered the foothills, then I started towards the bungalow.
Lola was already there, waiting at the door. She looked pale and her eyes were glittering.
“Where is it?” I said as I joined her.
“In the sitting room behind the sofa.”
“You’d better stay by the pumps,” I said. “It’ll take me a couple of hours to
open.”
I saw suspicion jump into her eyes.
“As long as that?”
“I told you, these safes are tough. I haven’t the combination. It’ll take at least two hours. Get out there and take care of the pumps.”
I went into the sitting room and looked at the safe. It was a combination job
with no lock and key.
She stood in the doorway watching me.
“I’ll get some tools. Hadn’t we better shut the lunch room? You don’t want a
party coming in and yelling for food.”
“I’ve shut it,” she said.
I went past her and across to the garage. I collected some tools and put them
in a big canvas bag. The bag would do to carry the money when I got at it. As
I came out of the garage I saw a Packard coming fast along the desert road.
Lola saw it too, and she left the front entrance of the bungalow and went over
to the pumps. I started for the bungalow as the Packard pulled up.
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