David Goodis: Five Noir Novels of the 1940s and '50s (Library of America) (18 page)

A
LL 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 through 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 other 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.

He walked down the street, turned, went down another street, turned and he was on the street that was all apartment houses. He knew the street. He knew the apartment house, the white brick structure with the black iron gate and the black window frames. He lit a cigarette, crossed the street and went through the open gate. He glanced at his wrist watch as he entered the vestibule. Then he looked at the listing and he saw her name and he pressed the button. There was a buzzing response. He opened the door and went into the lobby.

In the elevator he dropped the cigarette and stepped on it. The elevator took him to the fifth floor. He walked down the hall. He remembered the hall, everything about it. He told himself there was a certain way he had to go about this, and what he ought to do was stand here a moment and itemize the things he had to say and the order in which they were to be said. Then he was thinking that it might not be a good idea to rehearse it this way because that would be mechanical and he had to avoid the mechanical now. He remembered the way he had pulled it out of Arbogast, the way he had hammered away
at the U-turns to get Arbogast’s mind back to that night and specific moments of that night, getting Arbogast to see it again, going back to the first U-turn, the waiting before the first U-turn, the waiting before the second U-turn, seeing that Arbogast wasn’t really back there yet and drilling the U-turns into Arbogast, keeping Arbogast there with the U-turns, keeping Arbogast on that street in those moments, then the first U-turn, and then the second U-turn, and the interval again between the first and second U-turn so that Arbogast would stay there and be there long enough to remember. He had not planned that and he knew that if he had planned something it would not have been the U-turns. And it was only because of the U-turns that he had managed to get it out of Arbogast. It was a spontaneous maneuver and there was nothing mechanical in it and there must be nothing mechanical in this.