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

by David Goodis

  Gerardo was saying, “How far, mister? How far east of River Street?”

  “One block,” he said. “Make it the middle of the block. It’s a very narrow alley and it’s off a little side street.”

  Gerardo started to laugh. It wasn’t much of a sound, it was almost no sound at all.

  “Yes,” Gerardo said. And then he laughed just a bit louder. “Is very funny, you know?”

  “What’s funny?” Whitey murmured.

  “Is same alley,” Gerardo laughed. “Same policeman.”

  “What?” Whitey said. He blinked several times. “What are you talking about?”

  Gerardo didn’t answer. Now he was laughing loudly. The other Puerto Ricans had no idea why he was laughing and they looked at one another. A few were frowning puzzledly. And some were trying to get with it, grinning and looking foolish and uncertain. The ones who were fanatically loyal to Gerardo were imitating his laughter. Carlos was laughing the loudest and holding his sides and choking on his forced guffaws as he wondered what all this comedy was about.

  Suddenly Gerardo stopped laughing. Then all the laughing stopped and they waited for Gerardo to speak. He was in no hurry to speak, and for some moments all he did was run his finger along the edge of the bread knife in his hand.

  Whitey looked at the knife. He looked at the tattered and scraggly fabric of Gerardo’s camel’s-hair overcoat. He thought: It’s funny about the coat. And the knife is funny, too. Yes, everything here is very funny. It’s just as funny as rain coming down on a graveyard.

  Then Gerardo was saying, “You tell good story, mister. Very much truth in it. But not truth enough. Not hardly truth enough.”

  Whitey took a deep breath. He held it.

  “You no kill policeman,” Gerardo said.

  Oh, Whitey said without sound. Oh, God. God Almighty.

  “Because,” Gerardo said very slowly, “I know who kill policeman. Name of killer is Gerardo.”

  10

  THEN IT was quiet in the room and it was a thick quiet that came in layers, falling on Whitey and giving him the feeling that he was being smothered by it.

  He heard Gerardo saying, “You want to say something?”

  He shook his head.

  “Is very sensible,” Gerardo said. “You say nothing because there is nothing you can say.”

  “Gerardo—” It was Carlos. “You really kill the cop?”

  Gerardo nodded. His tone was matter-of-fact as he said, “It was during the riot. He grabbed me from the back. He not see what I hold in my hand. I think it was a hammer. Maybe a monkey-wrench. I no remember for sure. Only thing I remember is how I hit him. I hit him on head real hard.”

  “Good,” Carlos said. “I no like cops. Is with cops like cowboys in movie pictures say about Indians. Best policeman is dead policeman.”

  “This one was stupid policeman,” Gerardo said.

  “All policemen, they are stupid,” Carlos said.

  “No,” Gerardo murmured. “Not all.”

  “They are stupid like jackass,” Carlos insisted.

  Gerardo looked at him and said, “Your mouth, it is always busy. Why you have such a busy mouth?”

  “I only say—”

  “You say nothing.” Gerardo spoke very quietly. “You talk and talk and what comes out is nothing.”

  “All right,” Carlos said. “All right. All right.”

  Gerardo looked at the other Puerto Ricans. “Listen careful now. Is what I’m saying very important. I go out now with gringo. I take him for a walk. I come back in fifteen, twenty minutes, maybe half an hour. You wait here. You no go outside for any reason. You stay inside so outside it’s quiet, so me and gringo we go for nice quiet walk. You understand?”

  They nodded.

  Gerardo looked at Whitey. “Come on, mister. We go now. You walk in front of me.”

  Whitey moved slowly toward the door. One of the Puerto Ricans opened the door. Gerardo stepped in close behind Whitey and said, “I give you advice, mister. You try to run, I throw the knife. With throwing a knife I am first-rank expert. You don’t believe it, you try me out.”

  “I believe it,” Whitey said.

  They were approaching the doorway and Carlos came up to Gerardo and said, “Look, boss, I have idea. I think is best you throw him in river. No trace.”

  Gerardo smiled at Carlos. “Is that your idea?”

  Carlos nodded vigorously.

  “And you think it is good idea?”

  “Sure,” Carlos said. “Is best to throw him in river with something heavy tied to feet so he stays down. And then they no find him.”

  “But I want them to find him,” Gerardo said.

  “What?” Carlos said. “What you mean?”

  Gerardo smiled widely now. He was very much amused at Carlos. He said, “Is much luck for me when they find him. Is much luck for all of us.”

  Carlos frowned. “I do not understand.”

  “Because you are an idiot,” Gerardo said affectionately. He turned to the other Puerto Ricans. “You see what is my plan? You know why I want them to find him?”

  They stared blankly at Gerardo.

  “Well, then,” Gerardo said, “I explain, and maybe you learn something and you see how I use the brains.” He paused to make it impressive, and went on: “The police, they are wanting this man here they think is cop-killer. And while they look for him they no close the case. So in meantime is possible they get information somewhere and they find out cop-killer is Gerardo.”

  “Is bad if that happen,” someone said.

  “But it will not happen,” Gerardo said. “I make sure it will not happen. They will find dead body of cop-killer and then everything is all right. Case is closed.”

  “Bueno,” someone said with admiration. “Muy bueno.”

  “You clever, boss,” another one said. “You real clever.”

  “For sure,” Carlos said loudly. “Is nobody clever like Gerardo.”

  Some of the men were grinning to show their fondness and praise and worship for the leader. Gerardo winked at them and they winked back. But there were others who looked at one another with solemn disapproval of what was happening. Luis was looking at Whitey and his eyes were dismal, saying without sound, Is not fair, is goddamn shame.

  “Is time to go,” Gerardo said to Whitey. He gave him a gentle shove toward the doorway. Whitey walked out of the room and Gerardo stayed close behind him going down the hall to the stairs.

  They went down the stairs and through the rooms where the women and children and older people were sleeping on the floor. Gerardo opened the front door and they walked out together, Gerardo now moving close at his side so that their shoulders touched.

  “Slow and easy, now,” Gerardo said softly. “Is just a couple friends going out for a walk. So we walk nice and slow and peaceful. O.K.?”

  Whitey didn’t answer. He was looking down at Gerardo’s right arm. There was nothing in Gerardo’s hand, and he thought: Where’s he got the knife? But then he took a closer look and he saw the tip of the shiny blade projecting from the ragged sleeve of the camel’s-hair overcoat.

  They walked slowly through the labyrinth of winding alleys. It was very cold and the wind rushing down the alleys was a mean, wet wind that yowled like something alive and going berserk. He wanted to pull up the collar of his coat but he didn’t want to move his arms because maybe Gerardo would get the wrong idea. He kept his hands in his pockets and wished he could pull up the collar of his coat. He told himself it was too damn cold out here. Yeah, he said dryly to himself, you’re in a fine position to worry about the weather. Where you’re going, there ain’t gonna be no weather.

  But it would be nice if he could have a drink. One final drink. Anything at all, just so it had some sock in it. Maybe a shot of that goathead, that stuff manufactured by Jones Jarvis. That would taste real good right now. Well, no matter what it was, it would taste good. Even if it was antifreeze, it would taste good. He’d heard of them drinking antifreeze
and going blind or getting a fast ride to the morgue, but if some of it was offered to him now, he’d grab it. Sure he’d grab it, and drink it, and what would he have to lose? At least he’d get that one last jolt before the curtain came down.

  Goddamn, he said to himself, you’re sure a sucker for liquid refreshment. But you ain’t alone in that, you sure got plenty of company there. I wonder what Bones and Phillips are doing. They still sitting on the pavement in front of that flophouse? They sure were thirsty. That empty bottle wasn’t easy to look at. Well, maybe they put their heads together and figured something out, and got their hands on another bottle. That would be good news. Maybe someone dropped a dollar bill in the street and they picked it up. Yeah, sure. Fat chance. Like the chance you got now. All right, don’t start that routine. That ain’t gonna help. Well, as far as that’s concerned, nothing’s gonna help.

  Now they were away from the alleys and moving across the flat wide area on which were heaps of scrap metal. They were going toward the lumberyard and they were at the edge of the yard when Gerardo stopped and looked at him.

  He thought: Well, here it is. It happens now.

  But nothing happened just then. Gerardo was frowning slightly and saying aloud to himself, “No, this not the place. We go farther.”

  “Yeah,” Whitey said. “The farther, the better.”

  “Shut up,” Gerardo said. “I do some thinking. I choose the right spot.”

  “Let’s go to City Hall.”

  “I said shut up.”

  “Why should I?” Whitey asked. He wondered why he was doing this. He grinned at Gerardo and said, “Come on, let’s walk to City Hall. You can do it there. If you want them to find my body, they’re sure to find it in City Hall.”

  “Goddamn you,” Gerardo said. “You gonna shut up?”

  “Go to hell,” Whitey said. He told himself it was a silly thing to say. But he liked the sound of it. He knew he was grinning widely and he heard himself saying, “Go to hell, Gerardo.”

  “So?” Gerardo murmured thoughtfully. “So is gonna be like this?”

  Whitey shrugged. He sent the grin past Gerardo and he said to the empty air, “How’s about a drink? I could sure use a drink.”

  “What? What you say?”

  “A drink.” He went on grinning past Gerardo. “I need a drink.”

  Gerardo mixed a frown with a thin smile. “I think maybe Carlos was right. Maybe you really crazy.”

  “Let’s go somewhere and get a drink.”

  “All right,” Gerardo said, humoring him. “I take you somewhere and we have nice party.”

  “With girls?”

  “Sure. Plenty girls. Very pretty. Real angels.”

  Then Gerardo nudged him and they were walking again. They came out of the lumberyard and onto the vacant lot. They moved along the edge of the lot and he kept saying he needed a drink but now Gerardo didn’t answer. Gerardo was studying the terrain and not liking it. So then they continued along the north boundary of the lot, then went down along the west boundary and past the south boundary, entering a long alley that had no paving and consisted mostly of loose stones and thick mud.

  He remembered walking through this alley with Carlos and Luis, and he knew the next thing would be the narrow cobblestoned street. He recalled seeing a lamppost where the alley met the street, and even now he could see the dim glow far down there. He thought: That’s where it’s gonna happen. He’ll give it to you there, right there under that lamppost.

  Now Gerardo was walking behind him. He told himself this was a very long alley. He wished it were longer. He saw the glow of the street light coming closer. And then it was very close and he saw the glow reflected on the cobblestones of the narrow street.

  Thirty seconds, he estimated. We’ll be there in thirty seconds and then it’s all over.

  Or make it twenty seconds. Or fifteen. So right about now you can start counting them off and predict your future. You know just how long you’ve got to live. Fifteen seconds . . . fourteen . . . thirteen . . . You oughta be a fortuneteller, you’re really good at this. Eleven . . . ten . . . nine . . . eight . . . We’re almost there, just a few more steps, a few more seconds. Five . . . four . . . three . . .

  They were coming out of the alley.

  “All right,” Gerardo said. “Stop here.”

  He stopped. He was under the glow of the street light, standing there on the cobblestones with his back to Gerardo. In his brain he could see the knife emerging from the sleeve of the camel’s-hair overcoat, and Gerardo’s fingers getting a grip on the handle.

  He heard himself saying, “You can’t do it here.”

  “No?” Gerardo murmured. “Why not?”

  He turned very slowly and faced Gerardo and said, “You can’t do it anyplace. You just can’t do it, that’s all.”

  Gerardo was holding the knife with the blade pointed at Whitey’s stomach. He was waiting for Whitey to take a step backward or sideways.

  Whitey didn’t move. He said, “That’s a heavy overcoat you’re wearing. Another thing, it’s too big for you. It’s much too big.”

  “You think it makes me clumsy? Slows me down?”

  “No,” Whitey said. “That ain’t what I’m thinking. It’s just that I’m wondering about the coat. It ain’t no cheap article.”

  Gerardo smiled but it was an uncertain smile and his voice quivered slightly as he said, “Why you talk about coat now? You talking just to gain time?”

  “It’s camel’s-hair,” Whitey said. “Genuine camel’s-hair.”

  “So?” Gerardo was trying to see inside Whitey’s head. “So what is connection here? What is business with camel’s-hair?”

  Whitey didn’t say anything. He was looking at the overcoat.

  Gerardo blinked several times. He was impatient to get busy with the knife, but this matter of the overcoat made him very curious and somewhat worried. He was remembering the way Whitey had stared at the overcoat when they were in the room upstairs. He wondered why this little white-haired bum was able to stall him, to give him a feeling of indecision and confusion. He knew it showed in his eyes and he tried to get it out of his eyes but it stayed there.

  And Whitey saw it. Whitey said, “Let’s talk about the coat. Where’d you get it?”

  “Is make any difference?” Gerardo worked the words through his teeth, his lips stiff.

  “Someone give it to you?” Whitey asked.

  “Yes.” It was a hissing sound. “Yes. So what?”

  “Tell me something,” Whitey said conversationally. “Who gave it to you?”

  For an instant Gerardo’s eyes were wide and he was staring past Whitey. In the next instant Whitey kicked him in the groin.

  Gerardo let out a choked scream and as he fell backward he was trying to double up. Whitey came in close and kicked him again.

  The knife fell out of Gerardo’s hand. It hit the cobblestones and bounced and hit again and came down in some stagnant milky water in the gutter. Gerardo was on his knees, trying to hurl himself at the knife, but all he could do was crawl. Whitey moved in between Gerardo and the milky water, made a grab at the knife, and almost had it when Gerardo snatched blindly at his ankle, found him, held him, gripped him hard, and pulled him down. Then very quickly, forgetting the pain in the groin, Gerardo threw a clenched right hand at Whitey’s face and caught him on the jaw and Whitey fell over on his side. He told himself he’d been hit very hard and he wondered if he could get up. As he tried to get up, he saw Gerardo crawling again, making another try for the knife.

  He managed to get up. He leaped at Gerardo and his shoulder made contact with Gerardo’s ribs. They went down together and rolled over and kept rolling with Gerardo’s hands going for his throat. He butted Gerardo in the face and broke Gerardo’s nose. Gerardo went on grabbing for his throat and now they were rolling over and over in the milky water. It was slimy, greasy water and now it became streaked with red dripping from Gerardo’s smashed nose. Whitey told himself this party was gett
ing very sloppy. He was on his back now and he felt Gerardo’s fingers closing on his throat. He reached up and took a handful of Gerardo’s hair and started to rip the hair from Gerardo’s scalp. Gerardo gasped and groaned and let go of his throat. He held onto the handful of hair and kept on pulling and some blood streamed down Gerardo’s forehead. But Gerardo was still on top of him and again going for his throat and he knew the important thing was to get out from under. He wondered if he had the strength to roll them over again, told himself to stop wondering and start working, and then he let go of Gerardo’s hair and heaved very hard. They went over and for a moment he was on top of Gerardo but they kept rolling and then Gerardo was on top of him. He heaved again and they went on rolling and suddenly Gerardo pulled free and stood up. Gerardo aimed a kick at his face and missed and caught him in the chest. Gerardo circled him and aimed another kick. He rolled away and got to his knees and then got to his feet and now Gerardo came at him with fists.

  He slipped away from a roundhouse right hand trying for his head, ducked to avoid a short left hook, stepped back and them came inside another left hook and shot a short right to Gerardo’s belly. Gerardo was past feeling it and wouldn’t give ground and countered mechanically with another left hook that caught Whitey on the temple and staggered him. Gerardo moved in, completely mechanical now, measuring him very carefully with a right hand, then throwing the right, shooting it in a straight streaking path going from the shoulder. It hit Whitey’s chin and it was like falling a few hundred feet and landing on the chin, or something like that, or maybe like getting smashed on the chin with a crowbar. Well, he thought as he went down, it was a cute session while you were in it but you’re not in it now. He really made good with that one.