Table Of Content

Table of Contents CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE Do Me a Favour - Drop Dead James Hadley Chase 1976 CHAPTER ONE H e joined the Greyhound at Sacramento and settled his bulk on the outside seat, next to mine. He looked as if he had stepped straight out of the 19th century with his Mark Twain moustache, his string tie, his grey alpaca suit and his white Stetson. He was around sixty-five years of age and had a belly on him that could have been mistaken in the dark for a garbage can. He wore his hair long, Buffalo Bill style, and his red face signalled an inner contentment and a bonhomie that are rare these days. Once he had settled himself, taken a quick look around, he turned his attention to me. As the bus was moving off, he said, ‘Howdy. I’m Joe Pinner of Wicksteed.’ I was aware that his small brown eyes were taking in my shabby suit that had cost two hundred dollars six years ago and was past its best. The small brown eyes also took in the frayed cuffs of my shirt that was showing grime after the long stint in this bus. I said curtly, ‘Keith Devery of New York.’ He puffed out his fat cheeks, took off his Stetson, wiped his forehead, put on the Stetson, then said in a mild voice, ‘New York? You’ve come a long way. Me . . . I’ve seen New York: not my neck of the woods.’ ‘Not mine either.’ The bus jolted us together. His shoulder hit mine. His was all muscle and hard fat. Mine took the shock. ‘You know Wicksteed, Mr. Devery?’ he asked. ‘No.’ I wasn’t interested. I wanted quiet, but I could see I wasn’t going to get it. ‘Finest little town on the Pacific coast,’ he told me. ‘Only fifty miles from Frisco. Has the finest little hospital, the most prosperous commercial trading, the best self-service store between L.A. and Frisco, even though I say it who owns it.’ He gave a rumbling laugh. ‘You should stop off, Mr. Devery and take a look.’ ‘I’m heading for Frisco.’ ‘Is that right? I know Frisco: not my neck of the woods.’ He took out a well- worn cigar case and offered it. I shook my head. ‘For a young, energetic man, Wicksteed offers opportunities.’ He lit the cigar, puffed rich smelling smoke, then relaxed back in his seat. ‘Would you be looking for a job, Mr. Devery?’ ‘Right.’ I thought back on the past ten months which had been a series of jobs and what jobs! I was now worth fifty- nine dollars and seven cents. Once that was spent, nothing remained. Yes, I was looking for a job . . . any job. I couldn’t get lower than my last job: dish washing in a crummy wayside cafe . . . or couldn’t I? Pinner puffed at his cigar. ‘You could do worse taking a look at Wicksteed,’ he said. ‘It’s a friendly little town . . . it likes to help people.’ That last remark made me sore. ‘Do you think I need help?’ I asked, a snap in my voice. He removed his cigar, eyed it, before saying, ‘I guess everyone at some time in their lives can do with a little help.’ ‘That’s not what I asked.’ I half turned to glare at him. ‘Well, Mr. Devery, I get the impression you could do with some friendly help,’ he said mildly, ‘but if I’m wrong, excuse me and forget it.’ I turned away and stared out of the dusty window. Over my shoulder, I growled, ‘I don’t ask favours nor expect them.’ He didn’t say anything to this and I kept staring out of the window, and after a while I heard him snoring gently. I turned to look at him. He was asleep, his cigar held between two thick fingers, his Stetson pushed down over his eyes. It is just on ninety miles from Sacramento to Frisco. I’d be lucky to get there in three and a half hours. I hadn’t had any breakfast and I had a thirst on me that would have slain a camel. I had used up my last cigarette. I was now regretting I had refused his cigar. I sat there, watching the scenery, feeling pretty low, wondering if I had made the right decision to leave the Atlantic seaboard for the Pacific seaboard. I reminded myself that I still had a few friends in and around New York, and although they couldn’t help me get a job, if things got really rough, I could have screwed them for a loan. The Pacific seaboard was an unknown quantity and no friends to screw.