David Goodis: Five Noir Novels of the 1940s and '50s (Library of America) (16 page)

Parry said, “I don’t want to go back to Portland. It’s bad enough the way it is now. I’m just about ready to crack. I almost cracked a year ago and if I crack now I’ll never get over it. And here’s another thing. My name’s not really Linnell. It’s a new name because I’m trying to make a new start. I’ll never make it if you take me in.”

“You working now?”

“I only checked in last night,” Parry said. “I’ll find work. I know investments backwards and forwards.”

The man folded his arms and watched the rain ripping down. He said, “What’s the offer?”

“A hundred.”

“Make it two.”

Parry took bills from his pocket and began counting off fifties. He put four fifties in the man’s hand.

The man studied the money and pocketed it and walked away.

Parry waited there for ten minutes. He saw an empty taxi, waved to it. The driver beckoned.

The taxi took him to Golden Gate Park, took him around the park and back to Civic Center. He went into a hotel lobby and bought a magazine and used up an hour. Then he went through the revolving door and stood under an awning and watched the rain weaken. When the rain had stopped altogether he walked down the street, kept walking until he came to a department store.

He bought a grip, a good-looking piece of yellow calf. He paid for it and told the salesman to hold it for him. Then he went over to the men’s furnishings department and bought a suit and a thin raincoat. He bought shirts and shorts and ties and socks. He bought another pair of shoes. He was enjoying himself. He went into the toilet goods department and bought a toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste. He bought a razor and a tube of brushless shaving cream.

When he came back to the luggage department he told the salesman he wanted to put his purchases in the grip. He said it would be easier to carry them that way. The salesman said that was all right, as long as he had the receipts.

As he was leaving the department store a man came up to him and politely asked him if he had made any purchases. He said yes, and he showed the receipts. The man thanked him politely and told him to come again. He said he would, and he walked out of the store.

He looked for a hotel. He selected the Ruxton, a small place that wasn’t fancy but was clean and trim. They gave him a room on the fourth floor. He was registered as Allan Linnell, and his address was Portland.

The room was small and very clean and neat. He gave the bellhop a quarter and when he was alone in the room he opened the grip, took out the packages and began to unwrap them.

The phone rang.

He looked at the phone.

The phone rang again.

He decided to let it ring.

It kept on ringing.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and stared at the phone.

The phone kept ringing and ringing.

He got up and walked across the room and picked up the phone.

He said, “Yes?”

“Room 417?”

“Yes?”

“Mr. Linnell?”

“Yes?”

“
There’s someone here to see you. May I send him up?”

It was a him. Then it had to be the detective. It had to be more money. The detective had trailed him, so it had to be more money or else the detective had changed his mind about taking the money and was going to take him in. He turned and saw three doors. One was a closet door, one was for the bathroom, one was for the corridor. He thought of the corridor, the fire escape. But if it was more money it would be all right. He thought of the fire escape. It was no good. It brought things back to a chase basis. He had to get rid of that. He had to end it before it became a chase.

“Mr. Linnell?”

“Yes, I’m still here.”

“Shall I send him up?”

“Don’t hurry me,” Parry said, and he meant it. Again he thought of the fire escape. He told himself to stop thinking of the fire escape.

“Mr. Linnell?”

“Who is it wants to see me?”

“Just a moment, please.”

Parry heard dim voices. The name wouldn’t help, except that this gave him a few more seconds to think it over even though he knew there was nothing to think over.

“Mr. Linnell?”

“Yes?”

“It’s a Mr. Arbogast.”

Arbogast. It sounded hard, just as hard as the detective’s face was hard. It had to be more money. And more money was all right and it had to be all right.

“Mr. Linnell?” The voice down there was impatient.

“All right,” Parry said. “Send him up.”

He put the phone down and went back to the bed and leaned against the post. It had to be more money, maybe another three hundred. And he could spare that. He told himself it would be all right after he gave the detective another three hundred and then he told himself it wouldn’t be all right because this was the second time. And as long as there was a second time there was the possibility of a third time. And a fourth and a fifth. And after his money ran out the detective would take him in. Again he began to consider the fire escape and
this was the best time for the fire escape because the detective was already in the elevator and the elevator was going up. To use the fire escape he must use it now and right now.

Then he was moving toward the door, going slowly, telling himself to go faster, telling himself it was already a chase even though a chase was the last thing he wanted. He was trying to go faster and his legs wouldn’t play along and he begged himself to go faster, to open the door and get out of here and give himself a lead and build the lead. He was almost at the door. He heard sounds in the corridor, footsteps coming toward the door. He felt empty and worn out, and he knew it was too late. If he ran now he would be up against a gun. All these detectives carried guns. A good idea for a novelty song. All detectives carry guns.

This was the end of it, because it couldn’t be money, because it was a matter of plain reasoning, because the detective had already taken a big risk, taking that two hundred, and the detective had no intention of taking a bigger risk now. The detective was here to work, to give back the two hundred and take him in. There was a weakness in the wife in Portland story and the detective had snatched at the weakness before letting him get out of sight, and had trailed him and had him now and would take him in. And this was the end of it and it had to end this way, it had to end here, and what he had sensed all along was reality now, there was really no getting away, they had to grab him sometime, an ostrich could stick its head in the ground, stop seeing everyone else but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t see the ostrich. As he stood there listening to the footsteps coming toward the door he thought of how easy it had been at the beginning, how convenient everything had been, the way the truck was placed, the empty barrels in the truck, the guards away from the truck and the open gate and the truck going through. It had been very easy but it was ended now, and the ending of it was reasonable even though it wasn’t fair, because now they would kill him, and he didn’t deserve death.

The footsteps came closer and he wondered why it was taking so long for the footsteps to reach the door.

The sound of the footsteps was a soft mallet sound, softly tapping at the top of his skull, and slowly.

The sound of the footsteps took form and became a mallet. The mallet was a weapon. He ought to defend himself against a weapon. He had that right. It was proper and it was just that he should defend himself now. The mallet was the beginning of death and he had a right to defend himself against death.

The sound of the mallet was louder now, closer now, the feeling of it was heavier, and now it was fully upon him and it was hurting and he ought to think in practical terms, think of a way to defend himself. The detective was a fairly big man and the detective had a gun and fists wouldn’t be sufficient. There was Patavilca to think of, there was getting away from here and going to Patavilca to think of, and the detective was trying to keep him away from that, trying to take him away from life and the delight of Patavilca and he had a right to defend himself, to hold onto life. He was looking at the door, listening to the footsteps coming toward the door, listening to the mallet, feeling the mallet, knowing that as each blow of the mallet came against him it was doing something to his brain, knowing he had to stop that, knowing he couldn’t stop it, knowing he had a right to defend himself, listening to the footsteps, feeling the mallet, knowing it wasn’t fair that they should kill him, knowing that soon it would be too late, he would be dead, and he was alive now, and he should be preparing to defend himself, knowing he was going to do something to defend himself, knowing he didn’t hate the detective and he really didn’t want to hurt the detective but he had to do something to defend himself and what he had to do was grab something. He turned his head and on the dresser across the room he saw an ash tray.

It was a glass ash tray.

It was fairly large.

It was heavy. A very heavy ash tray had killed Gert. This one was very heavy.

He stared at it.

The mallet was banging now, banging hard on his skull. He got up from the bed and went over and picked up the ash tray and he was thinking that he would open the door for the detective and hide the ash tray behind his back and manage to get behind the detective and then hit him with the ash tray, hit him hard enough so he would go down, hard enough so he would
stay down, but not too hard, because too hard would kill the detective and he didn’t want to kill the detective. He didn’t want to but he wanted to hit the detective hard enough to put him down and keep him down long enough for the negotiation of the fire escape and the complete beginning of a complete getaway, but not too hard, of course not too hard. But hard enough. That would take measuring and he wondered if he would be able to measure it correctly. And he knew he wouldn’t be able to measure it. He knew he was going to bring it down too hard because he was so anxious to get away, because now he was at a point where he was more afraid of bringing it down too lightly than too hard. And now that he had it in his hand and his mind was made up to use it he could not put it down and he was going to do something now that he didn’t want to do, that he never expected he would do, and he didn’t want to do it, and he pleaded with himself not to do it, and he knew he would always regret doing it, and he was sick and he was tired, every part of him was so tired except his right arm and his right hand and the fingers that had a firm hold on the heavy glass ash tray. He pleaded with himself to drop it, to let his fingers go limp, to let the ash tray go to the floor. His grip tightened on the ash tray, the mallet crashed down on him, the door became liquid, flowing toward him, flowing back, the floor was liquid, the door flowed in again, the mallet crashed down again, he saw it happening, just as if it was already happening he saw the detective coming in and the perfect teeth smiling at him and the forefinger tapping against the thin moustache and he heard the detective telling him it was tough and it was too bad but it was necessary to take him in and he could hear himself saying something about the offer of an extra three hundred and he could see the detective shaking a head and saying no, it was tough, it was too bad and it was a rotten job but it was a job all the same and it was necessary to take him in. And the detective was asking him to come along and he said all right, he would come along and then he was getting around and sort of behind the detective and the heavy glass ash tray was a part of his fingers, a part of his arm as he brought up his arm, brought it up high as the detective started to turn to look at him to see what he was doing and then he
brought it down, swinging it down, the heavy glass ash tray, very heavy, very hard and thudding so horribly hard against the detective’s head. And the detective stood there looking at him. And he wanted the detective to go down. And he brought the ash tray down again, and the head began to bleed. The blood came running out but the detective wouldn’t go down so he hit the head again and still the detective wouldn’t go down and he hit the head once more. And the detective refused to go down even though the blood was running very thickly now, very fast, and the ash tray came against the head and against the head again and the blood washed down over the detective’s face and the perfect teeth were smiling and very white and glistening until the blood dripped down over the teeth and made them very red and glistening and the detective stood there with his head of blood and he wouldn’t go down.

The blood dripped onto the detective’s shoulders, down over the detective’s shoulders, down the arms, dripped off the ends of the fingers, dripped onto the floor, collected and pooled on the floor, rose up and clung to the detective’s shoes, came up along the detective’s trousers as more blood came down over the detective’s chin, dripped onto the shirtfront and the detective was wearing a very red and glistening shirt and then a very red and glistening suit. All of the detective was red and glistening and the redness gushed from the black and deep openings in the detective’s head and added to the glistening and the red. And the detective wouldn’t go down. The detective was a glistening and red statue, all red, standing there and refusing to go down, and now it was impossible to use the ash tray again because the arm was tired, too tired to lift the ash tray again, and the detective stood there smiling with his perfect red teeth, and then there was a knocking on the door.

The redness stood there.

The knocking came again.

The redness vanished as Parry opened his eyes. Then he closed his eyes again, closed them tightly and tried to see redness or anything near redness and all he got was black. He opened his eyes and he heard the knocking, and he walked over to the dresser and put the ash tray back where it belonged. Then
he walked back across the room toward the door, and with the inside of his head a spinning vacuum he put a hand on the knob, knowing a crazy, careening joy as he anticipated the living face of the detective.

He opened the door and saw the face of Studebaker.

T
HERE WAS
no hat this time. There was grey hair, very thin on top. There was a new suit, a new shirt and a new tie. And new shoes. And Studebaker was smiling as he stood there in his new clothes. He put a hand in his coat pocket. He took out a small pistol and he pointed it at Parry.

He said, “Walk backward. Keep walking with your hands up until you hit the wall.”

Parry walked backward. His shoulders came against the wall and he bounced a little and then he stood still with his hands up.

Studebaker was in the room now and he was closing the door. He had the pistol pointed at
Parry’s stomach. He said, “I could shoot you now and make myself five thousand dollars.”

“I didn’t know they were offering anything,” Parry said.

“That’s what they’re offering,” Studebaker said. “They’re stumped.”

“Have you talked to them?”

“No,” Studebaker said. “If I was a dope I would’ve talked to them. I’m not a dope. In old clothes I know I look like a farmer but I’m not a farmer. Just stand there with your hands up and I’ll stand here and we’ll talk it over.”

“What do you want?”

“Money.”

“How much?”

“Sixty thousand.”

“I can’t afford that. I can’t come anywhere near it.”

“She can.”

“Who?”

“The girl.”

“What girl?”

“Irene Janney.”

“Who’s she?”

“Look, Parry. I told you I’m not a dope. And I’m not a farmer. I know she’s worth a couple hundred thousand. She can spare sixty of it.”

“She’s out of it. You can’t do a thing.”

“Except turn you in. And that brings her in. That makes her an accessory to the Fellsinger job. It’s twenty years off her life.”

“They wouldn’t give her that.”

“All right, let’s give her a break. Let’s make it ten. It’s still worth sixty thousand. That leaves her a hundred and forty thousand. With that hundred and forty she can get back the sixty in no time. And then we’ll all be happy.”

“No.”

“You sure?”

“Yes,” Parry said. “I’m sure.” He watched the pistol. The pistol remained pointed at him but it was moving. Because Studebaker was moving, because Studebaker was going toward the phone.

Studebaker took hold of the phone and lifted it from the hook.

“Put it down,” Parry said.

Studebaker smiled. He put the phone down. He said, “You’ll play?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“That’s okay. Think about it all you want to. Look at it up and down and sideways. You’ll come to the same thing. You’ll see it’s the best way. What you’ve got to do now is shake me. I’m a big stone in the road and you’ve got to get rid of the stone to keep on going. So what you’ve got to do is talk to her and show her what her only move is. You got plenty on her.”

“You too. You seem to know plenty.”

“Not as much as you. If I went to her alone I wouldn’t have much to back myself up. What I want to do is go there with you and have her see you with me so she’ll know I’m not kidding. Then and there I want her to write me out a check for sixty thousand. That’s the way we work it. We go there together.”

“You’ve done this sort of thing before, haven’t you?”

“Nup. This is the first time. How am I doing?”

“You’re doing fine. Tell me, Arbogast, what are you?”

“I’m a crook.”

“Small time?”

“Until now.”

“In old clothes you don’t look like a crook.”

“In old clothes I look like a farmer.”

“What will you do with the sixty thousand?”

“Probably go to Salt Lake City and open up a loan office. There’s a fortune in it. People are crazy these days. People are always crazy but these days they’re especially bughouse. They’re making money but they want more. They’re spending like lunatics. With a loan office I’ll clean up. The way I got it figured out, sixty thousand gives me a perfect start.”

“You won’t keep bothering her, will you?”

“I tell you sixty thousand is just the right amount. I’ll have it doubled and redoubled inside a couple years.”

“Okay if I light a cigarette?”

“No. Keep your hands up.”

“You’re a careful guy.”

“Sure I’m careful. I’m no dope. I’m careful and I’m smart. I’ll give you a slant on how smart I am. I’ll tell you the way I handled it, and then you’ll know just how much of a chance you’ve got to put something over on me. Now you remember when I picked you up on that road, you remember you were wearing a pair of grey cotton trousers and heavy shoes and nothing more.”

“You knew who I was right away.”

“I didn’t know anything of the kind,” Arbogast said. “You had Quentin written all over you, but that was all. So I said to myself here’s a fellow making a break from Quentin. I said to myself I’ll pick up this fellow and see what he has to offer.”

“That,” Parry said, “I don’t get.”

“I’ll tell you how it is with me,” Arbogast said. “I’m always on the lookout for an opportunity. Anything that comes along with a possibility tag on it I grab. Here you were, out on the road, a fellow running away from Quentin. Maybe you had connections. Maybe you’d be willing to pay for a lift and a hiding place. Maybe I could stretch it out long enough to get something on you and shake you down later. That’s the way I figured it. We’ll say it was twelve to five I could make myself some heavy money on the deal. Twelve to five is always good enough for me, especially when my only bid is picking you up and having a talk with you. Now let’s be agreeable and keep our hands up.”

“They’re up.”

“Get them up higher and keep them that way. And maybe you better turn around. Yeah, I think you better turn around and face the wall and I’ll see what you got.”

Parry turned and faced the wall, holding his hands high. Arbogast came over and in four seconds checked him for a gun.

Then Arbogast stepped back. “So that was what I had in mind. But you pulled something I wasn’t ready for and that made things tough for me. Not too tough, because I wasn’t out cold when you got in the car with that girl. I saw the car going away and at first I didn’t know what to make of it. But I’m no dope. That was a classy-looking car and there had to be money behind it. So I took the license number in my head. I got a good head for that sort of thing. You beginning to see the way I had it laid out?”

“I’m beginning to see you’re a man who plans for the future.”

“Always,” Arbogast said. “Anything that looks like it might lead to something. A fellow’s got to be a few moves ahead of the game. It’s the only way to get along in this world. Well, I had that license number in my head but I was in my underwear and I knew I couldn’t go far that way. But you left your grey pants there and they fitted all right and I was wearing a sleeveless jersey and I still had my socks and shoes so that was all right, too. So I got in the car with that license number in my head and I made a U-turn and went back down the road aways and took another road. There was nothing for me to worry about because all my cards were in the Studebaker and if they stopped me and asked questions I could tell them I had a fall and banged up my face. But it didn’t matter, I wasn’t stopped. I took a roundabout way to Frisco and when I got in town I made a telephone call.”

“Oh,” Parry said. “There’s another party in on it.”

“No,” Arbogast said. “You don’t need to worry about that. It’s just that I belong to an automobile club. It’s not a big club but it’s convenient and it has a knack of getting a line on people. So here’s what I did. Now get this, and you’ll see how it happens that a guy can go along for years living on breadcrumbs and out of a clear blue sky a jackpot comes along and hits him in the face. I called up this automobile club and told them a grey Pontiac convertible slammed into me and busted my car and made me a hospital case and then kept on going on a hit-run basis. I gave them the license number and I wanted to know if it was worth my while to start action. They told me to wait there and they’d call back in ten minutes. When they called back they said I should go get myself a lawyer because I really had something. They said she was a wealthy girl and they gave me her name and address. They said she was listed for a couple hundred thousand at the inside and I ought to collect plenty. You staying with me?”

“I’m right alongside you.”

“That’s dandy,” Arbogast said. “Now stay with me while I go out of that telephone booth telling myself I’m in for a thousand or two. Or maybe four or five if I can rig up a good story. Stay with me while I walk down the street and while I pass a newsstand. Then I’m walking away from that newsstand and then I’m spinning around and running back to that newsstand and throwing two bits into the tin box and forgetting to pick up change. And there I am, looking at that front page, looking at those big black letters and looking at your face.”

“You must have been glad to see me.”

“Was I glad to see you? You asking me was I glad? I’m telling you I almost went into a jig. Then I pulled myself together and I started to think. What I don’t understand was how she got connected with you at that particular place in the road. But I’m no dope. She must have seen you getting out of the car or else you waved to her when she passed in the Pontiac. Something like that, but I wasn’t bothering myself about it. All I had to do was keep my eyes open and my head working and stay with her. So I did that. I had some money from a job I did in Sacramento and I got myself some clothes. I really splurged, because I knew I’d soon be coming into some high finance. But I didn’t think in terms of a room. No, because I knew the Studebaker was going to be my home for a while, parked outside the apartment on the other side of the street. So there I am, parked there on the other side of the street and playing it conservative and taking my time. I saw her Pontiac parked outside the apartment and that was fine, but I wanted to make sure you were still with her. Late that night I saw you coming out of the apartment and that was what I’d been waiting for. I saw you getting into a taxi.”

“You followed me.”

“No. I’m no dope. I knew you’d come back.”

“Who told you?”

“Nobody told me. Just like I say, I had my head working. That’s all I need. That’s why I always work alone. All I need is my head. I knew you’d come back because she was in on it with you and you had to come back sooner or later. So I stayed there and early in the morning I was there in the Studebaker and I was watching that street with both eyes. And I saw you coming down the street.”

“You couldn’t know it was me. My face was all bandaged.”

“Look.” Arbogast sounded like a patient classroom instructor. “I recognized that brand new grey suit. I checked the suit and your build and I figured it out in no time at all. You had something done to your face and that’s no new story with fellows in your position. I knew you were going to lamp the Studebaker and I wasn’t worried about that but I didn’t want you to lamp me. Not yet, anyway. So I ducked and stayed on the floor. When I got up I saw you going into the apartment house. Then I knew I had to keep you guessing, the two of you, I had to handle it like a spider, getting you in, not too fast, nothing hurried about it, just coaxing you in. I took the Studebaker down a block and parked it there so you couldn’t see it from the window. And from there I watched the apartment house. And the only thing that bothered me then was maybe when you came out with your new face you wouldn’t be wearing that grey suit. But I couldn’t do anything about that. So I waited and then along comes another jackpot when I buy a paper from a boy and I read all about that Fellsinger job. And that doubled the pot, because now she wasn’t only tied in with a jailbreak, she was connected with a murder. You see what I had on her?”

“But I didn’t do it.”

“I don’t care whether you did it or not. The cops say you did it. That’s enough for me. Anyway, I was still sort of bothered about that business of you coming out of the apartment wearing a different suit, so I decided to have a talk with you before anything like that could take place. I went up to the apartment and I rang the buzzer. That was during one of those times after she went away in the Pontiac to go shopping. You see I used to watch her going away and coming back with packages and I knew you were going to be there for a while. So there you have me ringing the buzzer and then changing my mind, saying to myself to hold off for a while, play it the way I’d been playing it, taking it slow. How did I know there wasn’t a third party up in that apartment? Or a fourth party? Or a mob? What I had to do was take my chances with that suit situation and wait it out until I could get you alone and away from the apartment. With all that money involved I could afford to stay in with those aces back to back and just waiting there for somebody to raise. And that raise came this morning when the grey suit came out of the apartment house. I wasn’t even looking at the face. I followed the grey suit. I followed the taxi. Downtown the grey suit got out of the taxi and the whole thing was going nicely until that dick got hold of you in the diner. I saw you give him a bribe. How much did you give him?”

“Two hundred.”

“You see what I’m getting at? If you could afford two hundred she must have handed you at least a couple thousand. Whoever she is, she’s got feeling for you. She’ll do what you say. That’s why I’m arranging it the way I am. That’s why we’ll go there together and you’ll do the asking. Now look, don’t get smart.”

“What’s the matter?”

“You just keep your hands up, that’s what’s the matter. You’re not dealing with no dope. I played it shrewd all the way and I aim to keep on playing it shrewd. I didn’t miss a trick. I followed you from the diner and I followed you on that taxi ride to and from Golden
Gate Park and I followed you on that department-store trip and I followed you here. At the desk I said I had a message for the man who just came in wearing a grey suit and they asked did I mean Mr. Linnell and I said yes. That puts us here together where I wanted us to be. So now you can turn around and we’ll talk it over face to face and we’ll see what we got.”

Parry turned and faced Arbogast and said, “You’ve still got that question of a third party or even a mob.”