by David Goodis
They came to the edge of the road. She turned to him and said, “All right, let’s get in my car and get out of here fast.”
3
PARRY TOOK a step away from her. He said, “I don’t get you.”
She gestured back to the woods. “I saw the body.”
“He isn’t dead. He gave me a lift and he tried to take my wallet. I knocked him out and then I got scared and took him into the woods. I’m not scared now. I’m going to take his car. Don’t you try to scare me.”
“I’m not trying to scare you,” she said. “I’m trying to help you.” She started toward the Pontiac and gestured for him to come along. She said, “Come on, Vincent.”
He stood there with his eyes coming out of his face.
She said, “Please Vincent—we don’t have much time.”
He stabbed a glance at the idling Studebaker. Then he remembered that the Studebaker couldn’t do better than thirty. The Pontiac could do plenty. It was a 1940 and it had good tires. He could use something like that. He looked at the girl. He looked at the point of her chin.
He took a step toward her.
She didn’t budge. She said, “It won’t get you anywhere, Vincent. If you’re alone in that car you’ll be picked up. If you come with me I’ll hide you in the back seat. I’ve got a blanket there.”
“You’re with the police.”
“If I was with the police I’d be carrying a gun. Look, Vincent, you’ve got a chance here, and if you don’t take it——”
“I’m going to take it.” He took another step toward her.
This time she cowered. Backing away from him she pleaded, “Don’t do it, Vincent. Please don’t. I’m for you. I’ve always been for you——”
It stopped him. He said, “What do you mean—always?”
“From the very beginning. From the day the trial opened. Come on, Vincent—please? Stick with me and I won’t let them get you.”
The way she said it brought tears to his eyes and out of his eyes, brought the thought from his brain and out of his mouth and he said, “I don’t know what to do—I don’t know what to do——”
She put a hand on his wrist and took him to the Pontiac. She opened the door, pulled up the front seat. He got in the back and crawled under the blanket.
The door slammed. The motor started and the Pontiac began to roll.
He got his head out from under the blanket and he said, “Where are we going—Frisco?”
“Yes. You’ll stay at my place. Keep under that blanket. We’re due to be stopped. They’ve got all roads blocked. We’re lucky they’re not probing this road.”
“You’re in on it. I know you’re in on it.” He couldn’t get the quiver out of his voice. The tears kept coming out of his eyes.
The Pontiac was doing forty. It made a turn and Parry felt a sudden decrease in speed. Then he heard the sound of motors —sharp little motors—motorcycles. His body started to shake. He tried to stop the shaking. He bit deep into the back of his hand. The motorcycles were coming from up front, closing in, getting louder. The Pontiac went down to twenty—fifteen—it was going to stop.
He could hear her saying, “Don’t move, Vincent. Don’t make a sound. It’s going to be all right.”
The Pontiac stopped. The sound of motorcycles came close, broke like big waves nearing a beach, then became little waves coming up on the beach. The motorcycles were idling now. Parry pictured them parked at the side of the road. All he could see was the black inside of the blanket that was even blacker than the inside of the barrel. And yet he got his mind past the blanket and he could picture the police walking over to the parked Pontiac.
Then he didn’t need to picture it any more because he was hearing it.
A motorcycle policeman said, “Got your license, miss?”
He could hear the sound of a panel compartment getting opened. He begged himself to stop the shaking.
“Where are you going, miss?” The same voice.
“San Francisco.”
“I see you live there.” The same voice.
“Yes.” It was her voice. “What’s the matter, officer? Have I done something wrong?”
“I don’t know yet, miss.” The same voice.
Then another voice. “Carrying anything?”
Then her voice again. “Yes.”
“What have you got?” The first voice. “What have you got there in the back!”
Her voice. “Old clothes. I’m making a collection for China War Relief.”
The first voice. “We’ll have a look, if you don’t mind.”
Her voice. “Go right ahead.”
The sound of the door opening. The sound of the blonde girl moving over so that the policemen could gain access to the back seat. He started to picture it again. They were looking at the blanket. They were going to lift the blanket. Then he could feel it—their fingers touching the blanket, lifting the edge of the blanket. He pulled his hand inside the sleeve of Studebaker’s coat. They could see the sleeve now, but they couldn’t see his hand. And they could see part of the coat and that was as far as they got. They took their fingers away from the blanket.
The first voice. “Well, I guess it’s all right, miss. Sorry to have troubled you, but we’re checking every car on this road.”
Her voice. “Perfectly all right, officer. Will there be anything else?”
“No. You can drive on now.”
The sound of the door closing. The sound of the motor rising. The Pontiac rolled again. Parry felt a wetness against his lips and it was blood coming thickly from the back of his hand, getting through the place where his teeth had penetrated the sleeve.
The Pontiac made a turn. It picked up speed and it went more smoothly now. Parry knew they were on another road. He got his head halfway out of the blanket.
He said, “You told them to go ahead and look.”
“I had to,” she said. “I knew they would look anyway. I had to take the chance.”
“Do you think we’ll be stopped again?”
“No. From here on it’s going to be all right.”
“Everything’s going to be all right,” Parry said. He looked at the back of his hand. His teeth had gone in deep. The blood wouldn’t stop. And his elbows were beginning to hurt again. And he wanted a drink of water. He wanted a cigarette. He wanted to go to sleep.
He closed his eyes and tried to get comfortable. Maybe he could fall asleep.
She said, “How’s it going?”
“Dandy. Everything’s going to be all right and everything’s dandy.”
“Stop it, Vincent. You’re free.”
“Free as the breeze. I don’t have a worry in the world. I’m doing great and everything’s dandy. Look, if you’re not the police, who are you?”
“I’m your friend. Is that enough?”
“No,” Parry said. “It’s not enough. If they catch me they catch me, but in the meantime I want to stay out as long as I can. And I won’t stay out long if I make mistakes. I want to be sure this isn’t a mistake. How did you know I was on that road?”
“I didn’t. That is, I wasn’t sure. But I had a feeling——”
“You had a feeling. So you went to a fortune teller and he told you Vincent Parry broke out of San Quentin and was going into the hills and through the woods and getting a lift in a Studebaker.”
“Don’t make fun of fortune tellers.” Her voice was light. He wondered if she was smiling.
He raised his head a few more inches from the blanket. He could see her blonde hair above the grey velour upholstery. All he had to do was get hold of her hair and pull her head back to get a crack at her jaw.
“How did you know I broke out of San Quentin?” he asked.
“The radio.”
He brought his head up another inch. He said, “All right, that passes. Let’s try this one—how did you know I was on that road?”
“I know the section.”
“What are you giving me?”
�
�I’m telling you I know the section.” Her voice was no longer light. “I know all the roads around here. The first radio announcement said you got away. The second announcement said you got away in a truck. They gave the location where police stopped the truck. I know the section very well. I used to paint.”
“You used to paint what?”
“Water color. Landscape stuff. I used to hang around there and paint those meadows and hills. Sometimes I’d go into the hills and I’d get a slant on the woods. Then sometimes I’d use the road to get another slant on the woods. That’s how I knew about the road. I had a feeling you’d be on that road.”
“I’m supposed to believe that.”
“Don’t you want to believe it? Then don’t believe it. Do you want to get out?”
“What?”
“I said do you want to get out? I got you past the police. If you had taken that Studebaker you’d be on your way back to San Quentin by now. That’s one thing. And if they had pulled back that blanket another few inches I’d be letting myself in for a few years of prison. That’s another thing. Right now I’m letting myself in for a broken jaw.”
“What do you mean a broken jaw?”
“You’re all set to clip me one, aren’t you?”
Parry said, “Now I know why you stick up for the fortune tellers. You’re a fortune teller yourself. You’re a mind reader.”
“Please, Vincent. Please wait it out.”
“Wait for what?”
“For the chance. A real chance. There’s going to be a real chance for you. I have the feeling——”
“Let’s try a hard one,” Parry said. “Tell me the date of my birth.”
“April first, the way you’re acting now. Do you want to get out?”
“You want to get rid of me, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I’m beginning to feel afraid.”
“Sister, I don’t blame you. The law——”
“I’m not afraid of the law, Vincent. I’m afraid of you. I’m sorry I started this. I’m sorry I threw the blanket in the back of the car and went out to find you. Now I’ve found you and I’m stuck with you. I didn’t know it would be this way.”
“What way?”
“You. The way you’re carrying on. I thought it would be very different from what it is. I thought you’d be soft. And kind. And very grateful. Very grateful for every little thing. That’s the way I always imagined you. That’s the way you were at the trial.”
“You attended the trial?”
“Yes. I was there almost every day.”
“How come?”
“I was interested.”
“In me?”
“Yes.”
“Sorry for me.”
“Yes. At the trial. And after you were sentenced. And earlier today. Now I’m no longer interested. I did something I wanted to do very badly. I did my little bit for you. And it hasn’t turned out the way I thought it would turn out. You’re not soft, Vincent. You’re mean—and I’m stuck with you.”
“You’re not stuck with me,” Parry said. “I’m getting out here. And I’m not doing what I did to Studebaker. All I’m doing is saying good-by and good luck.”
The Pontiac went over to the side of the road and came to a stop.
“How is it?” Parry said.
“It’s clear.”
“Any place I can duck?”
“Take a look.”
He brought his head up and gazed through all the windows. Directly ahead the wide white road sliced through a narrow valley devoid of houses. On the right side the valley widened and on the left side there was a patch of woodland going level for a few hundred yards and then climbing up a mountain.
“This will be all right,” Parry said. He put his hand on the door handle. He tilted the back of the empty front seat, quickly opened the door and leaped out. Running toward the patch of woodland he heard the Pontiac going away.
He was twenty yards away from the woodland when he heard a motor grinding and without looking he knew that the Pontiac was in reverse and coming back. He turned and raced toward the road.
The door was open for him.
She said, “Get in.”
He jumped in, closed the door and got under the blanket as if it were home and he had been away from home for a long time.
The Pontiac started forward and went into second and moved up to third and did forty. She held it there.
Parry said, “Why did you come back?”
“You looked lonely out there.”
“I felt lonely.”
“How do you feel now?”
“Better.”
“Much better?”
“Much.”
For a while they didn’t say anything. Then Parry asked her if it was all right to smoke and she opened both side windows and tossed a book of matches over her shoulder. She asked him to light one for her. He lit two cigarettes, reached up and gave her one, then got down under the blanket and pulled smoke into his mouth. The smoke aggravated the heat that was already in the blanket. He didn’t mind. He found that the thirst was going away and going along with it was the pain in his elbows and the back of his hand had stopped bleeding.
She said, “I forgot something.”
“You mean you left something with the police?”
“No, I forgot something when I said you weren’t soft, the way I’d expected you’d be. When I said you were mean. I forgot that you were in a prison for seven months. Of course you’re mean. Anyone would be mean. But don’t be mean to me. Promise me you won’t be mean to me.”
“Look, I told you before—you’re not stuck with me.”
“But I am, Vincent. I am.”
Parry took the cigarette from his mouth, put it in again and took a long tug. He got the smoke out and then he sighed. He said, “It’s too much for me.”
She didn’t answer that. Parry felt the car turning, going slower, heard the sound of San Francisco coming in and getting under the blanket. The sound of other automobiles and the honking of horns, the hum of trade and the droning of people on the streets. He was frightened again. He wanted to get away from here and fast. He began remembering pictures he had seen in travel folders long ago. Places that looked out upon water. Lovely beaches. One was Patavilca, Peru. Another was Almeria, Spain. There were so many others, it was such a big world.
The Pontiac came to a stop.
4
PARRY GOT his head past the edge of the blanket. He said, “What’s the matter?”
“We’re at my place. It’s an apartment house. We’re on Geary, not far from the center of town. Are you ready?”
“Ready for what?”
“You’re going to get out of the car. You’re going to stay at my place.”
“That’s no good.”
“Can you think of anything better?”
Parry tried to think of something better. He thought of the railroad station and he threw it away. He thought of hopping a freight and he knew they’d be watching the freight yards. They’d be watching every channel of possible getaway.
He said, “No.”
“Then get ready, Vincent. Count up to fifteen. By that time I’ll be in the apartment house and the elevator will be set to go up. When you reach fifteen get out of the car and walk fast but don’t run. And don’t be scared.”
“What’s there to be scared about?”
“Come on, Vincent. Don’t be scared. It’s all right now. We’ve reached home.”
“There’s no place like home,” Parry said.
“Start counting, Vincent,” she said and then she was out of the car and the door closed again and Parry was counting. When he reached fifteen he told himself that he couldn’t do it. He was shaking again. This wasn’t her apartment house. This was her way of getting rid of him. What did she need him for? What good could he do her? She had the keys to the car and now she was taking a stroll. When he got out of the car he would see there was no apartment
house and no open door and nothing. He told himself that he couldn’t get out of the car and he couldn’t remain in the car.
He got out of the car and faced a six-story yellow brick apartment house. The front door was halfway open. He closed the door of the Pontiac. Then he walked quickly across the pavement, up the steps of the apartment house.
Then they were in the elevator and it was going up. It stopped at the third floor. The corridor was done in dark yellow. The door of her apartment was green. The number on the door was 307. She opened the door and went in and he followed.
It was a small apartment. It was expensive. The general idea was grey-violet, with yellow here and there. Parry reached for a ball of yellow glass that had a lighter attachment on top. He lighted a cigarette and tossed the empty pack into a grey-violet wastebasket. He looked at a yellow-stained radio with a phonograph annex. Then he found himself glancing at the record albums grouped in a yellow case beside the yellow-stained cabinet.
“I see you go in for swing,” he said.
From another room she said, “Legitimate swing.”
He heard a door closing and knew she was in the bathroom. All he had to do now was open the door that faced the corridor. Then down the corridor and out by way of the fire escape. And then where?
Dragging at the cigarette he stooped over and began going through the record albums. When he came to Basie he frowned. There was a lot of Basie. The best Basie. The same Basie he liked. There was Every Tub and Swinging the Blues and Texas Shuffle. There was John’s Idea and Lester Leaps In and Out the Window. He took a glance at the window. He came back to the records and decided to play Texas Shuffle. He remembered that every time he played Texas Shuffle he got a picture of countless steers parading fast across an endless plain in Texas. He switched on the current and got the record under the needle. Texas Shuffle began to roll softly and it was very lovely. It clicked with the fact that he had a cigarette in his mouth, watching the smoke go up, and the police didn’t know he was here.
