David Goodis: Five Noir Novels of the 1940s and '50s (Library of America)

by David Goodis

  “I didn’t see any car.”

  “Tell me or I’ll shoot you above the knee. I’ll keep on shooting until I tear your leg off.”

  “There wasn’t any car,” Arbogast said.

  “There had to be a car. And it had to be a certain kind of a car. You got a chance to walk away from here with both legs if you tell me what kind of a car it was and if it’s the same car I’m thinking of.”

  Arbogast looked at Parry’s face.

  Parry stood there waiting. He knew he had thrown everything into that one. That was the big one. That was the big bluff.

  Arbogast looked at the gun.

  “I don’t have a thing to lose,” Parry said.

  Arbogast took a lot of air in his mouth and swallowed it.

  “I can see it’s no use,” Parry said. “You won’t tell me. And if you do tell me you won’t be telling the truth. You’ve tried to make things miserable for her and for me and now I’m going to make things miserable for you.”

  “I’ll tell you,” Arbogast said.

  “Tell me and make it good the first time, because there won’t be a second time.”

  “It was a roadster,” Arbogast said. “It had a canvas top and it was a bright color. I think it was orange.”

  “Bright orange,” Parry said.

  “A bright orange roadster,” Arbogast said.

  “And who was in it?”

  “I couldn’t see.”

  “All right,” Parry said. “I guess that doesn’t matter. I guess I got everything I need now.”

  “What happens to me?”

  “That’s not my worry.”

  “What are you going to do with me?”

  “Nothing. I’m going to leave you here. What do I need you for? You’re out of it now.”

  “If I’m out of it, let me go.”

  “Sure,” Parry said. “You can go. Just turn around and start walking.”

  “Let me take my car.”

  “No,” Parry said. “I’m taking that.”

  “You can’t take my car.”

  “And you didn’t think I could take your gun either but I took it.”

  “You won’t get away.”

  “I’m not trying to get away,” Parry said. “Not any more. I’ve got the big lead now. You handed it to me on a silver platter. You followed me and kept on following me until finally you gave me exactly what I needed. Maybe that’s the way things are arranged. I don’t know, do you?”

  “I’m not out of it yet,” Arbogast said.

  “Maybe it’s got to be that things always turn out this way,” Parry said. “Maybe there’s a certain arrangement to things and even if it takes a long time it finally has to work itself out.”

  “You’re not taking that car.”

  “You can’t tell me what I can take and what I can’t take. All you can do is stand there and tell yourself you’ve lost a couple hundred thousand dollars. You know it’s wonderful when guys like you lose out. It makes guys like me believe maybe we got a chance in this world.”

  “I tell you I’m not out of it yet.”

  “Take a walk, mister. Turn around and take a walk.”

  “I’m not through yet,” Arbogast said. “I started out to get something and I’m gonna get it.”

  And he came leaping at Parry. And Parry lifted the gun and fired in the air hoping to scare Arbogast but Arbogast was beyond scaring and came slamming into Parry and they went down together with Arbogast trying for the gun. Parry stretched his arm back to get the gun away from Arbogast’s hand. The weight of Arbogast was heavy on Parry and Arbogast went sliding forward to get the gun and Parry tried to slide away and Arbogast kept on sliding forward. Parry twisted and rolled but Arbogast was there now with the gun and trying with both hands to get the gun out of Parry’s hand. Parry held onto the gun. Arbogast used his knees to keep Parry down and he was still going forward and making noises down in his throat as he tried to get the gun out of Parry’s hand. Parry wouldn’t let go of the gun and Arbogast kept going forward until he got a knee against Parry’s throat and when he knew he had the knee there he pressed with the knee. Parry’s head went back as the knee went jamming against his throat and hurting and blocking the air and the knee pressed harder and already it was bad and then it was very bad and it was getting worse but he wouldn’t let go of the gun. And he had a feeling that his hand had become part of the gun and it was impossible for anything to get the gun away from his hand and he had a feeling that Arbogast knew that also because now the knee was taking everything away from him because the knee was so heavy and fierce against his throat and taking everything away from him and now the pain in his throat was a long tube of pain that went out from both ends, went up to his eyes and down to his stomach and twirled itself and kept twirling as the knee pressed harder. And he wouldn’t let go of the gun as the pain went driving into him and going up and down the tube and in his stomach the tube was glossy and purple and in his brain the tube was black and burning and somewhere in the middle the tube was clear and it was a glass tube and he could see into it and know that Arbogast was no longer trying hard for the gun but trying hard to kill him with the knee in the throat. He could see it in the glassy clear middle of the tube, Arbogast burying him here and then going back to her and getting sixty thousand from her and going away and getting twenty more thousand from her and going away and coming back and getting thirty more thousand, forty more thousand, going away, coming back, going away and coming back and he could see her giving the money to Arbogast and he could get the sound of her asking Arbogast where he was and what had happened to him and Arbogast telling her he was somewhere around and what difference did it make where he was and what he was doing as long as she gave the money when she was asked for it. And the pain came slashing into his throat and pouring into the tube, going up and down, going fast now and it was killing him. Outside the pain he felt something on his hand, like a little warm breeze warmer than the warm yellow air, and he knew it was the breath of Arbogast, coming from the face of Arbogast close to his hand as Arbogast kept jamming the knee into his throat. He twisted his hand and, bringing it up as he twisted it, bringing the gun up, far outside the tube of pain he heard the scream of Arbogast and then he pulled the trigger.

  18

  ALL OF the tube was black and it was thick now, filling his throat, and in his head it was a big ball of black nothing. He could feel it up there and he knew it was getting bigger and he wondered if it was going to get too big. He could hear the sound of his dragging breath, and it was as if his breath was cinders grinding across more cinders.

  Then it began to go away, the black and the cinders. He had his eyes closed as he reached up and loosened his tie and unbuttoned his collar. Now the air was going in smoother and faster and the tube was getting thin and then it was melting and then it was gone.

  He opened his eyes. He saw dark brown branches and bright green leaves against the heavy hot yellow. He closed his eyes and told himself it would be nice to sleep for a while.

  Gliding into sleep was very nice, and staying in sleep was soft and light and proper, because it was not a full sleep and he sensed the comfort of it as he rested there with his eyes closed, taking in the air and getting rid of the shock and the hurt.

  Then when he opened his eyes again he knew he had slept there for a couple of hours at least and he knew he was much better now and he could get up. He got up slowly. He wondered if he could stand without leaning against anything. He could stand all right. He could move his legs. He felt his throat and it seemed to feel swollen but there was no pain now, only a heaviness on the outside. He turned and looked at Arbogast.

  He saw Arbogast resting face down. The back of the head bulged out.

  He went over and rolled the body face up. He looked at the face.

  The eyes were open and wrenched loose, and there was blood where the flesh was split. The nose was torn apart and the hole was big and black and green and yellow, going up and going deep and going throug
h the head and making the bulge. There was blood all over the mouth and all over the chin. There was dried blood in the ears and clotted blood on the coat and the shirtfront.

  There was blood all over the gun where it rested near the body.

  Without sound the body said, “I started out to get something.”

  Without sound Parry said, “You got it.”

  He stooped to pick up the gun and he saw the sticky blood all over his hand. He took out a handkerchief and wiped off the blood. Then he examined himself for more blood. He couldn’t see any blood on his clothing and he knew the body had fallen away from him when the bullet went in.

  He picked up the gun, keeping the handkerchief between his hand and the gun so as not to stain his hand with more blood. Then he walked deeper into the woods and established a hole for the gun. He covered the hole and smoothed it carefully. Then he walked away several yards, made another hole and buried the blood-stained handkerchief. Then he came back to the body and looked at it.

  Without thinking of it, he reached in a coat pocket, took out a pack of cigarettes and a book of matches. He put a cigarette in his mouth as he looked at the body. Standing there and looking at the body he lit the cigarette.

  He stood there smoking the cigarette and looking at the body.

  He was puzzled.

  He couldn’t understand why he felt no regret, why he felt no horror at the sight of this dead thing on the ground, this thing he had killed. It had always seemed impossible that he would ever kill anyone, that he would ever have either the cause or the impulse.

  Wondering about it, he knew he wasn’t glad. At the same time he wasn’t sorry. It was something mechanical and as he stood there looking at the body he knew it was one of those logical patterns. It was geometry. He was alive and the thing on the ground was dead. It had to be that way and the pattern was expanding now, taking in Irene, because he knew now he had wanted to stay with Irene, and he knew now every time he had gone away from her he had wanted to go back. And each time he had managed to hurdle that want as it came rolling toward him. Now it was with him again, greater than ever before, and there was no need for hurdling it, because he knew the identity of the murderer. He knew how and why Gert and Fellsinger had been killed, and he knew what he had to do now. He was building the method, telling himself how he could prove the guilt of the other person, forcing the showdown that would display and clarify his own innocence. And the pattern kept expanding, showing him the simple and ordinary happiness he had always wanted, the happiness he had expected to find with Gert, the clean and decent happiness of a little guy who wasn’t important and had no special urge to be important and wanted nothing more than a daily job to do and someone to open a door for him at night and give him a smile.

  It kept expanding. It began to glow. He would get a confession from the murderer after showing the murderer the absence of any loophole. And then his girl would be waiting for him. He had tears in his eyes, knowing she was waiting for him even now, knowing she wouldn’t need to wait much longer. The happiness flowed from the pattern and flowed over him. A job in a war plant, and Sundays with his girl, and every morning and every night with his girl, his little girl.

  He was telling himself that everything was all right now.

  He walked away from the body. He walked through the woods, came out on the empty lot, walking slowly. He walked across the empty lot, slowly working on the cigarette as he told himself what he had to do. He crossed the road and got in the car and turned on the motor. Before he released the brake he turned his head and looked across the empty lot, across the yellow emptiness broken by the line of green woodland. And the woodland seemed very quiet and passive.

  Then the car was moving. He took it into a U-turn and started back toward the city. His wrist watch was still working and it showed him two forty-five.

  Coming into the city he parked the car on a narrow side street three blocks away from a busy section. He was feeling hungry and the pain of his throat had gone away completely. He told himself there was no reason why he shouldn’t eat something. He got out of the car and walked toward the busy section. Then he was in a restaurant and he had pork chops and vegetables, a cup of coffee and a piece of pie. He sat there with another cup of coffee and a cigarette. He had another cigarette and then he walked out of the restaurant and went down the street and stood on a corner waiting for a taxi. Three taxis went past without paying any attention to him. The fourth taxi picked him up.

  The taxi moved slowly through heavy traffic.

  Parry looked at his trousers, his sleeves. He looked all over and there was no blood. The taxi was making a turn. He lit another cigarette. The taxi was getting away from the center of town. He moved across the seat so he could see himself in the rear-view mirror. He arranged his tie and smoothed his hair. He leaned back and breathed the heat that gushed in through open windows. The taxi made another turn. It was going faster now.

  The taxi went up a steep street, then down, then up again. Then the taxi was going through a section devoted to apartment houses. The taxi came to a light and stopped and there was a drugstore on the corner.

  “I’ll get out here,” Parry said.

  “You said——”

  “I know, but I’ll get out here. It’s only a couple blocks away.”

  “You’re the doctor.”

  Parry paid his fare and walked into the drugstore. He picked up a telephone book and his forefinger ran down a line of names. He closed the book, went over to the counter and made change, getting two dimes and a nickel for a quarter. He went into a telephone booth and dialed a number.

  Someone said, “Hello.”

  “Mrs. Rapf?”

  “Yes?”

  “How are you, Madge?”

  “Who is this?”

  “A friend of your husband.”

  “I don’t have a husband. Anyway, I don’t live with him.”

  “I know, that’s why I’m calling.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I’d like to meet you.”

  “Say, what is this?”

  “Nothing very special, except I just started working here a few weeks ago and I don’t know many people. I met your husband and he told me about you. He gave you a nice build-up.”

  “Oh, he did, did he? What are you, a leper or something?”

  “I told him I’d like to meet you and he gave me your number. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “I think you got a lot of crust.”

  “May I see you?”

  “You may not.”

  “Look, Madge, I think you’d like me.”

  “Who gave you permission to call me Madge?”

  “When you see me you’ll give me permission.”

  “Oh, I will, will I?”

  “I think so. From what your husband said, I think you’re the type I like. And I’m sure I’m the type you like.”

  “I don’t like the fresh type.”

  “I’m not really fresh. Just sort of informal.”

  “What do you look like?”

  “I’m good looking.”

  “How tall are you?”

  “Average.”

  “Thin?”

  “Yes.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Thirty-six.”

  “How come you’re not married?”

  “I was. Twice. They weren’t the type I was looking for. I’m looking for a certain type.”

  “You don’t mince words, do you?”

  “What’s the use of mincing words?”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Allan.”

  “Allan what?”

  “Just call me Allan.”

  “What did my husband say?”

  “I’ll tell you when I see you.”

  “How do you know you’re going to see me?”

  “I don’t know, because that’s up to you. But if you’re at all curious, I’m right here in the neighborhood. I could drop in and say hello. When we see each o
ther we’ll know if it’s worthwhile getting started. And if it is we’ll have dinner tonight.”

  “I’d like to know what he said.”

  “I’ll tell you.”

  “Tell me now.”

  “I’d like to, but that might spoil my chances of seeing you.”

  “You putting a sword over my head?”

  “Not because I want to. But I’m very anxious to meet you.”

  “I’m not dressed. I was in the bathtub. It’s such a hot day.”

  “There’s no hurry.”

  “I’ll tell you what. I’ll slip something on. Be here in fifteen minutes, make it twenty.”

  “All right, twenty minutes,” he said, and he hung up. He walked out of the booth and went over to the counter and asked a clerk for a pack of cigarettes and the clerk handed them to him. Then he glanced at his wrist watch. The clerk asked him if there was anything else. He said he didn’t think so. Then he saw boxes of candy stacked in pyramid fashion and he asked the price and the clerk said two dollars and he asked the clerk if there was something more expensive. The clerk ducked under the counter and came up with a violet box with violet satin ribbons all around it and said four and a half. Parry said that was really expensive and it ought to be something special. The clerk said it was really something special, all right, it was continental style chocolates and there wasn’t much of that stuff around any more and this was the last box in the store and if he wanted something really special he ought to take this while the taking was good. He bought the box for four dollars and fifty cents plus tax and he told the clerk to wrap it up fancy and the clerk smiled knowingly and went to work on the box. Parry took the package and walked over to the magazine stand and stood there looking at the covers. A woman came in and bought a hot-water bottle. A little boy came in and bought a bar of candy. A man came in holding a hand to a swollen jaw with a prescription in the other hand. Parry glanced at his wrist watch. A young woman came in and asked for something and the clerk tried to make a date with her and she asked the clerk why wasn’t he wearing a discharge pin. He said he had a double hernia and he’d show her if she wanted to see and she walked out. The clerk came out from behind the counter and came over to Parry and said things like that burned him up. He opened his shirt and showed Parry an awful looking scar that ran from his chest down along his ribs and he said he got that at Kasserine Pass. Parry glanced at his wrist watch. The clerk said it burned him up the way people went around making remarks and he said he was good and fed up with people anyway. He was buttoning his shirt and saying one of these fine days he was going to haul off and punch somebody in the mouth. The owner of the store came out of a small side room and stood in the center of the store looking out through the open doorway at the black street turned yellow by the sun. A little girl came in and said she forgot what her mother sent her for and went out again. The owner of the store put his hand in front of an electric fan and shook his head and walked across the store and turned on another electric fan. A sailor came in and sat down at the soda fountain and asked for a peach ice-cream soda. The clerk said there wasn’t any peach. The sailor took strawberry and sat there mixing the ice cream with the soda and said that was the only way to enjoy an ice-cream soda. An old woman came in and bought a bottle of mineral oil and walked out. The sailor said it was sure a hot day and the clerk said it sure was and the sailor asked for another strawberry ice-cream soda. Parry glanced at his wrist watch and walked out of the store.