I Would Rather Stay Poor
Read I Would Rather Stay Poor Online
Authors: James Hadley Chase
ittsvill
e’s deputy sheriff, sat in his aging Packard, chewing gum, his mind clouded with the frustrating prospects of his future.
had an aggressive jaw, grey in
telligent eyes and a burning ambition to gain a position in life that would enable him to marry, raise children and have a decent home of his own.
the bank. You never know. Some
one might get ideas and there’s Miss Craig waiting for the fellow from head office to take charge. I know Iris and you have a date, but this is an emergency. You’ll have plenty of time to meet each other weekends, so go to it.’
c
ar seat, he spotted a dusty Mercury with San Francisco number plates pass him and then slow down as it passed the bank. It drove on to the municipal parking lot. He watched a tall, heavil
y-b
uilt man get out of the car and come walking back towards the bank.
thlete, Travers told himself. H
e had an easy, long stride, his shoulders were broad and he had that springy step that could cover miles without fatigue. Travers had no time to form
a
further judge
ment for the man had started up the path that led to the bank doors. Travers got out of his car and moved forward.
a
minute!’
The big man turned and looked around, pausing. Travers joined him in five long strides.
‘The bank’s closed,’ he said and flipped back his lapel to show his badge. ‘You want something?’
‘Will this do? I see you people take good care of the bank when you have to.’
Travers studied the pass, then returned it.
Travers shrugged his shoulders.
going to get over it or not.’
a
spinsterish look. Although she was plain looking, her complexion was good. Her mouse-coloured hair was neat.
a
painful flush rising to her face. Calvin smiled at her. His wide, friendly confident smile coupled with his staring blue eyes generally made an impact on women. It seemed to be having a devastating impact on Alice Craig.
…
that’s all right,’ she stammered. ‘I
–
I didn’t expect
…
won’t you come in?’
n
other door facing him behind the counter. There was a wooden seat for waiting customers and a table on which stood magazines and a vase of flowers.
‘I’m sorry about Mr. Lamb,’ Calvin said. ‘It must have been a shock for you. I’m sure you want to get home. Suppose you give me the keys and then get off? There
’s
nothing we can do now until Monday.’
‘You don’t want to check?’
–
I don’t smoke.’ She came in reluctantly and perched herself on the arm of the chair, looking down at her slim, well-shaped hands.
as a
potato and she’s as sexless as a nun.
‘Well, now,’ he said, keeping his voice mild and friendly. ‘How about the keys?’
‘They’re in the top drawer on the left,’ she said, still not looking at him.
He opened the drawer and took out
a
set of keys. They were all neatly labelled.
‘What keys do you hold?’ he asked.
–
I have
a
key to the front entrance
as
you have and I have a key to the vault. There are two locks on the vault. You have
one key and I have the other.’
‘So I can’t rob the vault without your permission and you can’t without mine. Is that it?’
She gave a nervous little smile, but he could see the joke as such wasn’t appreciated.
There was a pause, then he asked, ‘Can you give me Mr. Lamb’s address?’
‘The Bungalow, Connaught Avenue. It’s the fourth turning on the right down the main street.’
She hesitated, then she said, ‘It’s very bad. The best and the most comfortable place is where I’m staying. Mrs. Loring’s rooming-house. The food is very good and it isn’t expensive.’
Calvin realised he had made a mistake by asking her such a question. He had no wish to live where she did, but now, it was impossible for him to turn down her suggestion.
‘It’s on Macklin Drive. The end house. It’s about a mile and a half off the Downside highway.’
‘I guess I’ll call on Mrs. Lamb
now, then I’ll come on to Macklin Drive.’ He looked curiously at her. ‘How come you don’t live
with
your parents?’
‘I haven’t any,’ she said. ‘They died in a road accident five years ago.’
ed himself. He seemed to be ask
ing all the wrong questions. He moved to the door. ‘You lock up. We’ll talk business on Monday. I’m sure we are going to get along fine together.’
He drove to Connaught Avenue and pulled up outside Joe Lamb’s bungalow. It was made of brick and timber, showing signs of wear.
Calvin sat in the car for seve
ral minutes, looking at the bun
galow. This was bank property and his possible inheritance. If Lamb died, he would have to move into this depressing box of a place.
He got out of the car, opened the wooden gate and walked up the path. An elderly woman opened the door. She was bemused and tearful. She stared stupidly at him as he introduced himself.
Back in the car again, Calvin drove slowly to the highway. He stopped just outside the town at a bar and asked for a double Scotch. It was not yet six o’clock and at this time the bar was empty. He sat on a stool up at the bar and rested his fleshy face between his hands, staring down at the tiny bubbles in his glass.
Months! he thought. He c
ould be stuck in this dreary hole for months and if Lamb died, he could be permanently stuck here. He and Alice Craig would grow grey together. Even when she was fifty, she would still blush when a man looked at her. A fifteen-year jail sentence might be easier to bear. He drank the whisky, nodded to the barman and went out into the gathering darkness.
Macklin Drive was a mile further on at the cross roads. When he finally reached the roaming-house he was pleasantly surprised. This was a compact, three-storey house set in a well-kept garden with a view of the distant hills. Lights showed at the windows. The house looked solid and cheerful and completely unlike the other cheap little houses and bungalows he had seen in the town.
