David Goodis: Five Noir Novels of the 1940s and '50s (Library of America) (8 page)

S
OMEONE WAS
saying, “—turned and came right at me.”

Someone else said, “You should have full control of your car at all times. Your speed——”

“Officer, I swear I wasn’t doing more than twenty-five.”

“That’s what you say. Now we’ll see what he has to say. He’s coming to.”

Parry raised his head, lifted himself on his elbows. He saw the big face in front of his own face, the shield on the cap, the bright buttons on the coat. There were other faces surrounding the big face but he wasn’t paying attention to them. He kept staring at the big face of the policeman.

Someone was saying, “Officer, I should drop down dead if I was doing more than twenty-five. As true as there’s——”

“All right, save that for later,” the policeman said.

Parry said, “I’m all right, officer.” He stood up. There was a pain in the back of his head. There was a pain in his right knee. He put a hand to the back of his head and felt the bump. He took a couple of steps forward and people were stepping back to give him room.

The policeman had a long rounded nose and a rounded chin. The policeman put a huge arm around Parry’s middle and said, “Sure you’re all right?”

“Perfectly sure,” Parry said, squirming away from the policeman’s arm. “Just had the wind knocked out of me.”

“Thank God,” someone said, and Parry turned and saw a little man who had a bald head and a moustache that was too big for his little face.

The policeman faced the little man and said, “Cards.”

“Sure, officer. Right here.” The little man tussled with a back pocket and took out a wallet. It was an overloaded wallet and as the little man hurried to open it a collection of cards and papers fluttered out and showered to the street.

Parry said, “I’m all right, officer. No damage at all.”

“He hit you, didn’t he?” the policeman said.

The little man was on his knees, picking up the papers and cards.
The little man looked up and said, “I’m telling you, officer, I wasn’t doing more than——”

“Aw, keep quiet, will ya?” the policeman said impatiently. “All I want from you is your cards.”

“Yes, sir,” the little man said. He went on picking up the papers and cards.

Someone said, “Better call an ambulance.”

“I don’t need an ambulance,” Parry said. He wondered if there was a chance to make a break. He estimated nine people in this bunch. Out of nine maybe there were none who could run as fast as he. Undoubtedly he could run faster than the big policeman.

“Got any pain?” the policeman said.

“None at all,” Parry said. “I’m perfectly all right.”

“You sure?” the policeman said.

The little man was up with the papers and cards, saying, “If he says he’s all right then he must be all right.”

Turning to the little man, the policeman said, “What are you, master of ceremonies? Let’s see those cards.”

“Yes, sir,” the little man said. He was extending cards. “My driver’s license, and here’s my owner’s——”

“All right, I got eyes,” the policeman said. He studied the cards. He looked at the little man.

Parry said, “It wasn’t his fault, officer. I ran right in front of his car.”

“That’s right, officer,” the little man said. “That’s just the way it was. I was——”

“Let’s take this step by step,” the policeman said. He pushed the cap back on his head. He looked at Parry. “You say it wasn’t his fault?”

“That’s right. It wasn’t his fault at all.”

“That’s right, officer,” the little man said. “I was——”

“Now look, Max—” the policeman pushed the cap forward again. “I’m in charge of this deal and it’s going to be handled my way. Is that clear, Max?”

“Sure, officer,” the little man said. “You’re in charge. Anything you say goes. All I want to do is——”

“Max,” the policeman said, “all you want to do is keep that mouth of yours quiet so’s I can get this matter straightened out.”
He turned to Parry. “Now look, mister, are you sure you’re all right?”

Someone said, “I’d call an ambulance. If it’s a skull fracture——”

“It aint no skull fracture,” the little man said loudly.

“How do you know it aint?” the other man said.

The little man faced the big policeman and gestured toward Parry. He said, “The man’s got a bump on the head and already they got him dead and buried.”

“If it was up to me I’d get an ambulance,” the other man said.

The policeman turned and faced the other man. The policeman said, “It aint up to you. I’m in charge here, unless you want to argue about it.”

“I’m not arguing about anything,” the other man said aggressively. “All I say is you ought to get an ambulance.”

The policeman took a step forward while pointing back to Parry and saying, “Do you know that man?”

Parry was telling himself all he had to do was get past the policeman because there was a gap to the left of the policeman and if he could get through the gap he would be on his way.

The other man was saying, “No.”

“All right then,” the policeman said. “If you don’t know him it aint none of your business.”

“I’m a citizen,” the other man said. “I’ve lived in this city for thirty-seven years.”

“I don’t care if you were one of the founders,” the policeman said.

“I’ve got certain privileges,” the other man said.

The policeman took another step forward. He said, “Look, friend, it’s a late hour. Why don’t you go home and get a good night’s rest?”

It got a few laughs. The man didn’t like being laughed at. He pointed a long arm at Parry. He said, “That man—” and Parry was all set to run “—that man might have a skull fracture. And I say it’s your official duty, as a sworn servant of the law, to protect the citizens of this city. It is your official duty to call an ambulance.”

“I said I was all right,” Parry said.

The policeman turned to Parry and said, “Mister, what’s your name?”

Parry looked at the policeman. He said, “Studebaker.”

“What’s that again?”

“Studebaker,” Parry said. “George Studebaker.”

“Does it make any difference what his name is?” the little man said. “If he’s not going to prefer charges——”

“God damn it, I’m handling this,” the policeman said.

“You’re handling it all wrong,” said the man who had lived in San Francisco for thirty-seven years.

“Now listen here, you,” the policeman said. He pushed the cap back on his head. “You keep that up and I’ll run you in for interfering with an officer in the performance of his duty.”

“You won’t do anything of the sort,” the man said. “I’m a citizen. I’m a respectable member of this community. I’ve got a clean record and I own my own home. I’ve got a wife and four children. I’ve worked in the same plant for thirty-two years.”

“And never been late or absent,” someone said.

“Absent once,” the man said. “I fell down a flight of stairs and broke my left leg.”

“That’s too bad,” the policeman said. “How’s the leg now?”

“It’s all right now.”

“That’s fine,” the policeman said. “That means you can walk. So go ahead and walk.”

“Sure,” the little man said, coming up to stand beside the policeman. “Go home already.”

“Nobody asked you,” the other man said. “You’re just one of these wise little Jews.”

The little man was stiff for a moment, then he bent back, like a strip of flexible steel, and sprang forward with both fists slashing at the other man’s face, but before he could reach the other man the policeman grabbed him. He tried to get away from the policeman. He tried to get to the other man and he said, “You can’t talk like that any more. We don’t take it any more. We’re through taking it. If my boy in the South Pacific was here now he’d tear you apart with his bare hands. You got to realize you can’t talk like that any more. Let go of me, officer. I won’t let him get away with that. I won’t let any of them get away with that. I don’t care if they’re eight feet tall——”

“
All right, Max,” the policeman said soothingly. “Take it easy.”

“We don’t take it easy any more,” the little man said. “We don’t let them talk like that any more.”

The crowd was looking at the other man. The other man was backing away. The policeman looked at the other man and said, “That’s right, take a walk, because I got a good mind to let Max loose, and once he gets loose you’re gonna regret the whole thing. It happens I also had a boy in the South Pacific.”

The man who had lived in San Francisco for thirty-seven years was backing away, gradually turning, so that at last he had his back to the crowd and was walking quickly down the street.

“Now I don’t care what happens,” the little man said. His whole body was shaking. “You can call the ambulance, you can call the wagon. I don’t care what you do. I don’t care.”

Someone said, “Why don’t we just break it up already?”

The policeman pushed the cap farther back on his head, turned to Parry and said, “Look, Studebaker, are you sure you’re all right?”

“I’m absolutely sure, officer,” Parry said. “You’d be doing me a favor if you let it ride.”

The policeman pushed the cap farther back on his head, stood there with uncertainty all over his face, rubbed a big hand across his big chin. Then he pushed the cap forward on his head, glared at the crowd and said, “All right, let’s break it up.”

The crowd moved back as the policeman walked forward. The crowd radiated.

Parry told himself to wait, to hold it until the policeman crossed the street. The little man came over to Parry and said, “Thanks, mister. You could have said it was my fault.”

“It’s all right,” Parry said. He was watching the policeman.

“Maybe you ought to see a doctor after all,” the little man said. “Can I take you any place?”

“No,” Parry said. “Thanks anyway. Wait. You going toward Post?”

“Sure,” the little man said. “I’m not going there but I’ll go there anyway. Any place you want to go.”

They stepped into the car. Both doors closed. The little man was
still shaking and he stalled the car twice before he really got it going. The car made a turn. Parry took out a pack of cigarettes.

“Smoke?”

“Thanks,” the little man said. “I need it.”

Parry gave him a light, lit his own, leaned back and watched the street lamps parading quickly toward the car.

“Sometimes I just get burned up,” the little man said.

“I know.”

“I get so burned up I don’t know what I’m doing,” the little man said. “And it’s not good for me. I got high blood pressure. I’ve had it for years.”

Parry was watching the rear-view mirror.

The little man was taking something from his pocket.

Parry tugged hard at the cigarette and wondered if the single light he saw back there was the headlamp of a motorcycle.

“Here, take this,” the little man said, handing Parry a card. “I’m nobody important, but any time I can do you a favor——”

Parry looked at the card. Glow from the street lamps showed him
Max Weinstock, Upholsterer
.

“Sure you feel all right?” the little man said.

“I’m fine,” Parry said. “I wasn’t hurt at all.”

“But maybe you should see a doctor just to make sure.”

“No, I’m all right,” Parry said.

The little man looked at him.

Parry looked at the rear-view mirror.

The car made another turn, stopped for a light, went down three blocks, stopped for another light, made another turn and the little man said, “Whereabouts on Post?”

Parry took the folded slip of paper from his pocket, studied it for a few moments. He directed the little man to let him off at a street that was one block away from the address on the paper.

The car made another turn, going left on Post.

“Do you have the time?” Parry said, forgetting the watch on his wrist.

The little man glanced at a wrist watch. “Two-thirty.”

“Too early,” Parry said.

“Early?”

“Nothing,” Parry said. “I was just thinking.”

The little man was looking at him. As the car stopped for another light the little man leaned forward slightly so he could get a better look at Parry’s face. Parry took out the pack, lit another cigarette, sustaining the match and holding his left hand in front of the left side of his face. Glancing sideways, he knew the little man was still looking at him. He had a feeling it was going to happen now, while they were waiting for this light to change. He told himself Post was reasonably empty and he could handle the little man as he had handled Studebaker. The little man was still looking at him and now he had his cigarette going and the match was going to burn his fingers. He blew out the match, his hand came down. The little man was still looking at him. Parry’s teeth clicked, his head turned mechanically, he stared at the little man, his stare went past the eyes of the little man and he was staring at a police squad car parked there beside the little man’s car.

The light changed. The police squad car went forward.

“The light changed,” Parry said.

The little man turned and looked at the light. He made no move to get the car going.

“The light changed,” Parry said.

“Yes,” the little man said. “I know.” He made no move to get the car going.

“What’s the matter?” Parry said.

The little man looked at him.

“Can’t we get started?” Parry said.

The little man was leaning back now, his head was down, he was looking at nothing.

“Won’t the car go?” Parry said.

“The car’s all right,” the little man said.

“Then what’s the matter?” Parry said. “Why are we standing here?”

The little man looked at Parry. The little man said nothing.

“I don’t get you,” Parry said. He looked at the rear-view mirror. He put fingers on the door handle. He said, “We can’t stay here in the middle of the street. We’re blocking traffic.”

“There’s no traffic,” the little man said. It was under a whisper.

“Well, why don’t we move?” Parry said. He gripped the door handle.

The little man said nothing. He was leaning back again. His head was down again. He was looking at nothing again.

“What’s the matter with you?” Parry said. “Are you sick or something?”