Free Dark Passage by David Goodis

was all right,” Parry said. “She
wasn’t a bad soul. She just hated my guts. For a long time I tried
to find out why. Then it got to a point where I didn't care any
more. I started going out. I knew she was going out so it didn't
make any difference. We hardly ever talked to each other. It was a
very happy home.”
    “What made you marry her in the first
place?”
    “The old story.”
    “I almost got roped in a couple of times,”
the driver said.
    “If you find the right person it’s okay,”
Parry said.
    Then they were quiet for a while. They sat
there blowing smoke. After a time the driver said, “Where we
going?”
    “I don’t know,” Parry said. “What should I
do?”
    “You won’t listen.”
    “I’ll listen,” Parry said. “I want ideas.
That's what I need more than anything else. Ideas. Look, I didn't
kill her. Why should I go back to San Quentin and stay there the
rest of my life if I didn't kill her?”
    The driver shifted his position so that he
faced Parry directly. He beckoned to Parry. He said, “Come up a few
inches. Let’s see if he can do anything with your face.”
    “Who?”
    “A friend of mine.” The driver was
studying Parry’s face. The driver said, “This guy's good. He knows
his stuff.”
    “What would he want?”
    “What do you have?”
    “A thousand.”
    “To spend?”
    “No,” Parry said. “A thousand’s all I
have.”
    “He’d take a couple hundred.”
    “What would he want afterward?”
    “Not a cent. He’s a friend of
mine.”
    “What do you want?”
    “Nothing.” The driver got paper and a stub
of pencil from an inside pocket and he was writing
something.
    “How long will it take?” Parry
asked.
    “Maybe a week if he doesn’t touch your
nose. I've seen him work. He's good. I don't think he'll touch your
nose. I think he'll fix up you around the eyes. But you can't stay
there. You got a place to stay?”
    “I think so,” Parry said.
    The driver handed Parry a slip of paper.
Parry folded it and put it in his coat pocket.
    “I’ll call him tonight,” the driver said.
“Maybe he can do it tonight. Maybe I better call him right now. You
got the cash with you?”
    “Yes, but I’m not sure about tonight.
Let's work it this way—you call him and say there's a good chance
I'll be there at two in the morning. Or better make it three. Are
you sure this guy's okay?”
    “He’s okay as long as he knows you're
okay. That good enough?”
    “I’ll gamble,” Parry said. “How do I get
in?”
    “It’s an old building on Post. One of them
dried-up places filled with two-by-four offices. He's got his
office Oil the third floor. There's an alley on the left side of
the building. There's a back door and he'll have it open for you.
He works fast and you'll be out of there before it gets
light.”
    “What do I do after I get out? I can’t
walk the streets all bandaged up.”
    “Don’t worry about it,” the driver said.
“I'll be there. I know the section and I got the whole thing mapped
out already. The alley cuts through to a second alley. I'll have
the taxi parked there at the end of the second alley.”
    “Suppose he can’t make it
tonight.”
    “We’ll take the chance. I think we better
shove now. I don't want any cops to see me parked here. Where do we
go?”
    “Make a right hand turn at the end of the
block,” Parry said.
    The taxi went down the street, made a
right turn, made another right turn, then a third, then down four
blocks and a left-hand turn.
    “Stop alongside that apartment house,”
Parry said.
    The taxi went halfway down the street and
came to a stop.
    “What’ll it be?” Parry said.
    “An even two bucks.”
    Parry handed the driver a five-dollar
bill. He said, “Keep it.”
    The driver handed Parry a dollar bill and
a dollar in silver. “You need some silver,” he said. “Besides, you
don’t want to go throwing your money around like that. Now what's
it going to be?”
    “Three on the dot.”
    “All right. I’ll call him. And you be
there. And listen, keep telling yourself it'll work out okay. Keep
telling yourself you don't have a