Smart Guy – A Short Tale, free online read.

   Slim Chester smiled contentedly as he swung on to the crowded bus on a spring evening of 1949.  He’d just made it onto the bus, and that was a stroke of luck.

  It wouldn’t have done to be late this time, not after the way he’d kept Marge waiting last Friday.  He’d talked her round, of course, but even a smart fellow like himself couldn’t talk a girl like Marge round more than once.

  Marge wasn’t the kind of girl you kept waiting.  Sort of smart and uppity, you know the kind, but there was something about the set of her head and the look in her eyes that made Slim feel that the world was a pretty wonderful place.

  In less than ten minutes he’d be meeting her.  He’d give her a swell time tonight, too.  There was that two quid he’d won at the poker game, that ought to stand them a feed and a show, maybe a taxi, too.

  Whistling softly Slim stared at the other occupants of the bus.  He wondered idly why that tall skinny woman had to wear a hat like that.  It looked so flaming silly perched on top of her head, with the leathers bobbing against that little fat guy’s face.

  Suddenly Slim stiffened.  That little fat guy!  His beady eyes goggled as he stared at the thick wad of notes held in the podgy hands. The fellow was counting them, cool as a cucumber.

  With an effort, Slim looked away, staring unseeingly at the absurd hat.

  Cripes, there must be a hundred quid there, he reflected.  More than a hundred, most likely.

 Furtively he looked at the podgy hands again.  It was true all right.  The little fat guy had rolled up the notes and was stuffing them in his pocket.  An inside pocket.  Still that was nothing to a smart lad like Slim.

  Imagine that.  A wad of dough just asking to be taken.  Already the fertile brain was working.  It would be easy to make a quick getaway. The bus was crowded, the fat guy wouldn’t find it easy to make his way through the crowd. The whole thing was child’s play.

  As the bus jolted to a stop, he’d just lift the wallet and be out on the pavement in a jiffy.  Once clear of the bus he could grab a taxi and be with Marge before the victim realised the wallet was gone.

  It was then Slim noticed the policeman.  He was big and bulky, and his massive frame blocked the doorway. What’s more, he was staring at Slim in a ruminant sort of way, or maybe he was just staring at the advertisement above his head.

  Anyway, there was no sense in taking chances, he’d just have to bide his time.  Ten, 15 minutes sped by.  Marge would be furious.  Of course, she wouldn’t wait this long, but the cute present he’d be able to buy her would smooth things out.

  As the bus approached a busy section, Slim saw his chance.  The pavement was crowded, and the policeman’s attention seemed to be centred on his paper.

  Nerves tensed, Slim waited, his hands and legs ready for speedy action’.  Now for it!

  As the bus swung to the kerb and stopped with a jerk, he lightly lifted the wallet, and, swiftly transferring it to his own pocket, jumped to the pavement.

  But the policeman was hot on his trail.  The fellow must have eyes in the back of his flaming head, Slim reflected, as he darted through the crowd into a department store.  The policeman was following him, though, no doubt about it.

  The ground floor offered no shelter.  But there was a group of people waiting by the lift, which he could get into with a bit of luck, but the policeman’s heavy hand was already on his shoulder.

  He wasn’t cornered, though, not by a long shot. With a deft movement, Slim slid the roll of notes into the overcoat pocket of an unsuspecting shopper, and turned to face his captor.

  “I saw you as you left the bus,” the policeman boomed.

  So what? They couldn’t pin anything on him, Slim reflected.  He’d been a little bit too smart that time.

  The policeman opened his massive hand, and smilingly disclosed a cigarette-lighter. “Yes, it was lucky for you this was my stop, too. You dropped your lighter as you jumped off.”

  Slim stared open mouthed. It didn’t take him long to thank the policeman, just long enough for the lift to whirl the roll out of his sight.  And he hadn’t even noticed what overcoat he’d dropped it in.  Yes, he’d been pretty smart that time, a bit too smart.