highway that ran as straight as a foot rule alongside golden sands and the sun swept ocean.
At this hour, the road was fairly clear of traffic, and I coasted along at a steady sixty miles an hour until I saw ahead of me a forty foot hoarding whose blood red letters on a glittering white background made me snatch my foot off the gas pedal.
YOU ARE APPROACHING TAMPA CITY. SLOW DOWN OR SPEND A NIGHT IN OUR JAIL!
A mile further on I spotted two speed cops, sitting astride their motorcycles by the side of the road, their gauntlet covered hands resting on their handlebars as if they were itching to go into action: two beefy, red-faced men with eyes like sun baked pebbles. They both stared hard at me as I passed them at a sedate thirty-five miles an hour.
Another mile further on, the road dipped sharply and began to run downhill, and I had my first sight of Tampa City. It sprawled out around a sheltered bay: a white, glittering town of skyscrapers, beach huts, plushy looking hotels, gay sun umbrellas, tropical shrubs and trees. It looked as immaculate and as contented as a showgirl who has just been given a diamond bracelet.
A closer inspection, as I reached the long, busy main street, told me this was a rich man’s town. Rolls Royces, Bentleys, Cadillacs and Daimlers cluttered up the parking lots. Well fed, well-dressed men sat in the cars, drumming impatiently on the steering wheel while they waited for their wives to have done with their shopping, or sat at cafes, staring insolently at the lightly clad lovelies who displayed their charms with equal insolence.
I told myself Bernie would like this town. I didn’t dislike my first look of it myself. I spotted an empty place in one of the parking lots and swung the Buick into it, cut the engine and got out.
The sun beat down on me as I walked across to a drug store to ask the way to Havelock Drive where Don Bradley lived. The clerk told me as if he were doing me a favour. His sharp eyes appeared to have the facility of peeping into my wallet and counting my money. From his expression I gathered he didn’t think much of me, and it was obvious my arrival gave him no pleasure.
A tall girl in a backless blue swimsuit, doughnut sized sunglasses and a straw hat the size of a cartwheel drifted into the store as I was leaving. She had a bracelet of diamonds around her left ankle that must have set some sucker back a small fortune. The clerk went over to her with a deference that’s usually reserved for royalty. Money in Tampa City obviously talked. I went back to the car.
A cop who from the rear could have been mistaken for Primo Camera, leaned against the car and stared at me as I approached with a stolid, impersonal expression and with cold, unfriendly eyes.
‘This yours?’ he asked nodding at the car as if it were beneath his dignity even to notice it.
‘That’s right,’ I said mildly.
I didn’t know what his grouse was going to be, but I didn’t have to be psychic to see he had a grouse.
‘You’re in Tampa City now,’ he said, biting off each word. ‘We like cars parked straight here. Your rear wheels are over the white line.’
I looked over at the glittering Rolls Royce parked next to my car. Its offside wheels were over the white line by three feet, but after all it was a 1954 Rolls and not a 1940 Buick.
‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘I’m a stranger in town.’
He held out a hand that could have been mistaken for a bunch of bananas in a poor light.
‘Licence.’
I gave him my licence. He brooded over it as if he wasn’t too sure of the longer words, then took out a leather case containing a pad of forms and began to write laboriously.
‘Staying long?’ he growled at me without looking up.
‘I don’t imagine so. I doubt if I’ll be able to afford to.’
He let that one drift, ripped out the sheet he had written on and poked it at me.
‘Five bucks.’
I gave him the five dollars without blinking an eyelash and accepted the receipt. I had been
At this hour, the road was fairly clear of traffic, and I coasted along at a steady sixty miles an hour until I saw ahead of me a forty foot hoarding whose blood red letters on a glittering white background made me snatch my foot off the gas pedal.
YOU ARE APPROACHING TAMPA CITY. SLOW DOWN OR SPEND A NIGHT IN OUR JAIL!
A mile further on I spotted two speed cops, sitting astride their motorcycles by the side of the road, their gauntlet covered hands resting on their handlebars as if they were itching to go into action: two beefy, red-faced men with eyes like sun baked pebbles. They both stared hard at me as I passed them at a sedate thirty-five miles an hour.
Another mile further on, the road dipped sharply and began to run downhill, and I had my first sight of Tampa City. It sprawled out around a sheltered bay: a white, glittering town of skyscrapers, beach huts, plushy looking hotels, gay sun umbrellas, tropical shrubs and trees. It looked as immaculate and as contented as a showgirl who has just been given a diamond bracelet.
A closer inspection, as I reached the long, busy main street, told me this was a rich man’s town. Rolls Royces, Bentleys, Cadillacs and Daimlers cluttered up the parking lots. Well fed, well-dressed men sat in the cars, drumming impatiently on the steering wheel while they waited for their wives to have done with their shopping, or sat at cafes, staring insolently at the lightly clad lovelies who displayed their charms with equal insolence.
I told myself Bernie would like this town. I didn’t dislike my first look of it myself. I spotted an empty place in one of the parking lots and swung the Buick into it, cut the engine and got out.
The sun beat down on me as I walked across to a drug store to ask the way to Havelock Drive where Don Bradley lived. The clerk told me as if he were doing me a favour. His sharp eyes appeared to have the facility of peeping into my wallet and counting my money. From his expression I gathered he didn’t think much of me, and it was obvious my arrival gave him no pleasure.
A tall girl in a backless blue swimsuit, doughnut sized sunglasses and a straw hat the size of a cartwheel drifted into the store as I was leaving. She had a bracelet of diamonds around her left ankle that must have set some sucker back a small fortune. The clerk went over to her with a deference that’s usually reserved for royalty. Money in Tampa City obviously talked. I went back to the car.
A cop who from the rear could have been mistaken for Primo Camera, leaned against the car and stared at me as I approached with a stolid, impersonal expression and with cold, unfriendly eyes.
‘This yours?’ he asked nodding at the car as if it were beneath his dignity even to notice it.
‘That’s right,’ I said mildly.
I didn’t know what his grouse was going to be, but I didn’t have to be psychic to see he had a grouse.
‘You’re in Tampa City now,’ he said, biting off each word. ‘We like cars parked straight here. Your rear wheels are over the white line.’
I looked over at the glittering Rolls Royce parked next to my car. Its offside wheels were over the white line by three feet, but after all it was a 1954 Rolls and not a 1940 Buick.
‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘I’m a stranger in town.’
He held out a hand that could have been mistaken for a bunch of bananas in a poor light.
‘Licence.’
I gave him my licence. He brooded over it as if he wasn’t too sure of the longer words, then took out a leather case containing a pad of forms and began to write laboriously.
‘Staying long?’ he growled at me without looking up.
‘I don’t imagine so. I doubt if I’ll be able to afford to.’
He let that one drift, ripped out the sheet he had written on and poked it at me.
‘Five bucks.’
I gave him the five dollars without blinking an eyelash and accepted the receipt. I had been
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