by David Goodis
“The buses,” Gladden said. “I don’t think they’ll be watching the buses.”
“When they watch, they watch everything.”
“Don’t mind me,” Gladden said. “I’m new at this.”
“So am I.” He looked at the suitcase at the side of the bench.
“You scared?”
“Sure I’m scared.”
“We’ll get out of it.”
“But meanwhile, I’m scared. I don’t want to kid you. I’m really very scared.”
“I know what it is,” Gladden said.
He nodded slowly. “From last night on the Pike. From today, with Baylock.” He stiffened just a little. “One thing for certain. We didn’t do it. I wanted those three cops to live. I wanted Dohmer to live. I wanted Baylock to live. For Christ’s sake,” he said, and he saw her gesture, telling him to talk lower, “I never wanted anyone to die.” He stared ahead, at the people seated in the pavilion, the people on the boardwalk, and indicating them, he said, “I swear I have nothing against them. Not a thing. Look at them. All of them. I like them. I really like them, even though they hate my guts.” His voice went very low. “Yours too.”
“They don’t know we’re alive.”
“They’ll know it if we’re caught. That’s when it starts. When we get grabbed. When we’re locked up. That’s when they know. It tells them how good they are and how bad we are.”
“We’re not bad.”
“The hell we’re not bad.”
“Not real bad.” She looked closely at his eyes.
“We’re bad enough,” he said. “Plenty bad.”
“But not as bad as they’ll make us out to be. We’re not that bad.”
“Try to sell them that.”
“We don’t have to sell them anything.” She patted his wrist. “All we have to do is keep ourselves from getting caught. Because if we don’t get caught, they’ll never know.”
“But we know.”
“Listen, Nat. We know we didn’t do away with anybody. Not today, not last night, not ever. If they say we did, we know they’re wrong. That’s one thing we know.”
“We can’t prove it. But then, suppose we could—?”
“What if we could?” She was looking at him with puzzlement, with something that grew in her eyes and made her eyes wide.
“If we could,” he said, “it might be worth a try.”
“Nat, don’t give me riddles. Tell me what you’re talking about.”
“Giving ourselves up.”
“You really thinking about that?”
He nodded.
She said, “Why are you thinking about it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then stop.”
“I can’t,” he said. “It’s there, that’s all. I’m thinking about it.”
“You won’t go through with it.”
“I don’t know about that, either.”
“Please stop,” she said. “Please, you’re worrying me.”
“I can’t help it. I don’t want to worry you, but I just can’t help it. I’m thinking maybe we ought to do it.”
“No.”
He took her hands and pressed them between his palms. “Listen to me. I want to tell you something and I want you to listen very carefully.” He pressed tightly on her hands, not knowing how much pressure he was using. With a gesture of his chin he indicated the faces that passed in a thick stream going back and forth along the boardwalk. “Look at them. Look at the faces. You’d think they have trouble. Trouble? They don’t know what real trouble is. Look at them walking. When they take a walk, they take a walk, and that’s all. But you and I, when we take a walk it’s like crawling through a pitchblack tunnel, not knowing what’s in front, what’s in back. I want to get out of it, I want it to end, there’s no attraction and I want it to end.”
She had her eyes closed and she began to shake her head in long, slow swings, her eyes tightly closed. That was all she could do.
“Listen,” he said. “Like you listen when we talk plans. Listen that way. It’s really the same as a plan, except it’s more clear, it’s open, it’s got more to it than plans. So try to listen to me. We’ll go in. We’ll give ourselves up. We’ll give it to them, put it there in front of them. They’ll go for that. They won’t know what to make of it at first but I’m sure they’ll go for it. We’ll make it plain we could have skipped but instead of skipping and making them come after us we saved them the trouble, we came in. Nobody brought us in. We came in ourselves. We brought ourselves in. That’s like doing the work for them, saving them the headaches, solving it for them, clearing up the business on the Pike, and Baylock in the room. But especially with the Pike. That’s important, the Pike, because it’s always a rough deal when cops die, and other cops always itch to find out who and how and why. So here we’ll be giving it to them and they’ll know, and they’ll understand they’d never know if it wasn’t for us, coming in to tell them how it happened and who did it. And here’s the important thing, the emeralds. We’ll be giving back the emeralds. I know that’ll do some good. Maybe they’ll really go easy on us.”
“Maybe,” she said. “And maybe. And another maybe.”
“They will,” he insisted. “I know they’ll go easy on us.”
“Easy like a sledgehammer.”
“If we—”
“Now it’s if,” she cut in. “Before it was maybe and now it’s if.”
“There’s no guarantee. There’s never a guarantee. But coming in cold, bringing ourselves in, giving back the emeralds, that sort of thing goes over big. We’ll be out in no time.”
Gladden pulled away from him and regarded him quietly, as though looking down on him from a platform. “You say it, but you don’t believe it. You know how long we’ll be in.” And then, when he was unable to make a reply, she went on, “You say we but you really mean only yourself. I know what you’ll do. Because I know you. You’ll take the weight of the rap.”
He gave a little shrug. “I’ll get that anyway.”
“No you won’t. You’ll try to get it. You’ll make it as rough on yourself as you possibly can.” She leaned toward him. “To make it easier for me.” And then slowly, evenly, “That’s only one reason. But there’s another.”
He looked at her as though she was something frightening coming toward him, something that was not frightening when he had it covered up deep inside but which was very frightening when it came toward him from the outside.
“You want it,” she said. “You’re aching for it. You’ll be glad when they put you in. The longer they keep you in, the better you’ll like it.”
He turned his head away from her. “Quit talking like an idiot.”
“Nat, look at me.”
“Make sense and I’ll look at you.”
“You know it’s true. You know you want it.”
He tried to say something. The words formed a tight string and the string was broken in his throat.
“You want it,” she said. “You feel it’s coming to you. And you want it.”
Then it was like being in a game of tag and he knew she had tagged and there was no use trying to veer and dodge. He still didn’t know what to say. He turned to face her again and saw her wincing and knew it was the look in his eyes that caused her to wince. He tried to pull the look away but it stayed there. All his torture was in the look and it caused her to wince again.
“Please,” she said, “don’t go all to pieces. Try to think clearly.”
There was a moving of gears in his brain. “I’m thinking very clearly.” And then it came out, the flood of it, the burst of it, the seething. “I want it because I’m due for it. Overdue. I’m nothing but a no-good God damn thieving son of a bitch and I have it coming to me and I want it.”
“All right.” Her voice was soft, gentle. “If you want it that much, I want it too. I want whatever you want. We’ll get it together.”
He looked at her, waited and wondered what he was waiting for, and
gradually realized he was waiting for her to crack. But there was no sign of cracking. All she did was sigh. It was almost like a sigh of relief.
“Now,” he said. “We won’t wait. We’ll do it now.” He took her wrists, to help her up from the bench, but he saw she wasn’t looking at him. She was looking at something else, something behind the bench. He turned his head to see what she was looking at.
He saw the gun. And above the gun, the lips faintly smiling, the aquamarine eyes quietly satisfied, the face of Charley.
Chapter XIX
HARBIN TOLD himself it was just like sudden bad weather and the bad pattern of it followed the pattern of all the other things that had happened. He knew the aquamarine eyes had watched them as they came out of the hotel, had followed them along the boardwalk, had followed them here, had waited, and Charley had selected the moment. And this was the moment.
The gun showed only long enough to let them know it was there, then Charley put it underneath his jacket, the jacket bulging just a little where the muzzle pressed against the fabric. Charley was standing with his back to the rail of the pavilion and now he began to slide himself toward the stairs going down to the beach.
“Come along,” Charley said. “And don’t forget the suitcase.”
Harbin studied the tone of it, caught the trace of hysteria in the tone and knew there was nothing to do but take the suitcase and go along with Charley to the beach. Gladden looked up at him, to see what he wanted her to do. He smiled for her, then he shrugged, and carrying the suitcase he followed her toward the stairs, then down the stairs with Charley’s face in front of them as Charley backed his way down to the beach.
The three of them were on the beach. Charley moved around to get the gun pointed at their spines. Charley said, “Let’s take a walk. Let’s go look at the ocean.”
They were walking across the beach toward the ocean. The full moon splashed a blue-white glow against the black water. The glow seemed to melt and widen as it came into the beach. It floated onto the beach, a floating of a pale blue gauze that took shadow and weaved in and out in front of them as they walked toward the water.
The sand was soft and thick and moved in little hills under their feet. The sound of the ocean, a big sullen sound, blended with the hum and drone coming from the boardwalk. They moved toward the hard wet sand near the water. The boardwalk sound began to fade and as they came onto the damp sand it was all very far away from the boardwalk and away from everything.
“Turn around,” Charley said.
They faced Charley. They saw the shine on the barrel of the gun pointing at them.
Charley made a gesture with the gun. “Slide the suitcase over here.”
Harbin shoved the suitcase across the sand. Charley picked up the suitcase, felt the weight of it, nodded very slowly and shoved it back toward Harbin.
“Open it,” Charley said.
The gun moved closer to Harbin. He unstrapped the suitcase and opened the lid. He displayed the green flame of the stones and sensed the flame of Charley’s eyes looking at the stones. He heard Gladden’s breathing. He raised his head and saw the gun and then Charley’s face. There was something very unusual in Charley’s face. The features seemed completely out of balance.
“Now I got them,” Charley said. “Now you’re giving them to me.”
“All right, take them.”
“Not yet. That wouldn’t be proper. Just to make it fair all around I think I’ll give you something.”
“You use the gun,” Harbin told him, “and they’ll hear it on the boardwalk. You’ll have a thousand people on the beach and you’ll be hemmed in.”
Charley moved in closer and the moonlight was full on his twisted features. “The last time you gave me information, I took it. You pulled my mind away from the suitcase and you had me turning my back on it and walking out of the room. That was a pretty move, and you’re a classy engineer. So it means this, it means I can’t afford to let you louse me up again.”
“Look, you’ve got the haul. Why don’t you just take it and go away?”
Charley inclined his head so that it rested on his shoulder. His voice was mild. “You really want me to do that?”
“It’s the only thing you can do.”
“And what will you do?”
Harbin shrugged. “Nothing.”
“You sure?” Charley was smiling. “You really sure?”
Harbin shrugged again. “Examine it for yourself. We can’t afford to move against you. We’re too hot ourselves.”
Charley let out a mild laugh. “You’re real classy, you are. I get a kick from the way you evade an issue. I like the way—” The laugh became sort of wild. “You know what you want to do.” With the gun he indicated Gladden, his eyes staying on Harbin, his voice jagged. “You want to get rid of this girl and go back to Della. That’s what you want. And I got half a mind to let you do it. I’d like to be with you when you get back there to that room. I want to be there, watching you when you stand there. When you look at Della. I want to watch your face very close. I want to hear what you have to say. You’ll do all the talking because I’ll just be standing there, I won’t be saying a word. And I know Della won’t be talking.”
Harbin felt something slicing into him, felt part of himself being sliced away.
He heard Charley saying, “Maybe the thing Della liked about you was your class. Maybe that was it. She used to tell me I ought to have more class. She never liked when I talked loud and got excited. You don’t talk loud and you don’t get excited, so maybe that was what she went for. Whatever it was, she sure went for it. I mean all the way, completely, way up to the point where there I am coming back to the room and I find her sitting on the bed and you’re not there. So naturally I want to know what happened, and Della started giving me a story and I know she’s giving me a story from the way it’s coming out. I see she’s in very bad shape and then she started crying and she couldn’t talk anymore. So then I knew. I put it together and when I had it together it was too much, and something happened, and I put my hands around her throat. I choked her. I choked Della until she was dead.”
Charley was breathing hard, his face shining above the gun, and suddenly he kicked viciously at the suitcase, sent it over on its side so that the emeralds went flying out and made a green flash and glittered green on the sand.
“I don’t want them,” Charley said. He started to weep, loud wracking weeping. “I don’t care about them, you hear? Only one thing I ever really cared for. I cared for Della. I want her back, you hear?” The weeping was very loud. The heavy tears went running down Charley’s face. “Will I ever find another Della? No. Never. There was only one Della. Now she’s dead and I got nothing in my life. But I know this—” Charley lowered his head, his eyes trying to smash Harbin apart. “I know if it wasn’t for you—”
“No, don’t,” Harbin pleaded quietly.
“You—”
“Don’t.”
“Please don’t,” Gladden said. “Please, Charley, please—”
Charley laughed through the weeping and came moving in with the gun and Harbin saw the split taking place in Charley’s brain, saw the brain coming apart as the gun came up in a slanting path that ended when Charley shoved the gun very close. Charley’s eyes were opened wide, the white shining like white platters surrounding aquamarine. Then Charley had the gun pressing against Harbin’s chest, the finger getting hard on the trigger. Harbin saw it coming, felt it coming, but then it wasn’t coming because Gladden moved and brought her arm down on Charley’s arm, her weight against Charley, her other arm swinging hard against Charley’s face. Harbin was underneath the gun, slamming his shoulder into Charley’s groin, getting his shoulder in there solid, pushing and then heaving to knock Charley off his feet and go with Charley to the sand. He was on top of Charley and he reached out and grabbed Charley’s wrist and used his own arm as a lever to bend Charley’s wrist, bend it back and far back. He saw the gun in Charley’s hand, saw the fingers
coming loose and away from the gun, saw the gun falling away from the hand, bright blue and in the air, curving and going away and onto the sand. He reached for the gun. Charley hit him in the mouth. He made another try for the gun. Charley hit him again, sent a fist against the side of his head. He went on reaching for the gun. Charley put two hands around his throat and began to choke him.
He tried to pull his throat away from Charley’s hands. He could feel the thumb banging into his jugular vein. The pain was deep, and it went riding up into his eyes. He knew his eyes were starting to bulge. It was difficult to see anything. His mouth fell wide open and his tongue was hanging out. He tried to work his arms but there was no feeling in his arms. All the feeling was in his head now and it was the feeling of going up and back and around and down toward nothing. He could see the sky and the stars, the lights in the dark blue, the big dark blue that went sliding slowly, falling toward him but sliding away. And then he heard Gladden.
“Let go,” Gladden said. “Let go of him.”
He heard the grunt as Charley went on choking him. He felt his head going far to one side and it seemed that his head was being taken away from his body. Then he saw Gladden, and in the same moment he saw the face of Charley hovering over his own face. He saw the gun in Gladden’s hand, and all this was very close to his eyes and it blotted out the sky. He heard the shot, saw the flash, felt the choking, heard another shot, saw nothing, felt the choking, and then another shot and then another and Charley’s hands came away from his throat. He saw Charley’s face and saw Gladden standing there with the smoking gun. That was for just a moment, and after that the sand came up and pounded into his skull.
Chapter XX
GLADDEN HAD her hands under his arms. She spoke to him but he couldn’t make out what she was saying. The pain grew very bad and he didn’t think he would be able to get up. Gladden tried to get him up off the sand. His legs were liquid. He had his eyes closed and he was fighting to get up, trying to hear what Gladden was saying.
Then he could hear it as it went in past the pain. She was telling him that he had to get up. Even if he couldn’t get up, he had to get up.