Free Black Friday by David Goodis Page A

true-blue outlaw.
She said, "You get the drift? That's the big thing, that professional angle. Because we're strictly professional and we ain't got room here for no amateurs."
There was the slightest trace of challenge in the way she said it. He could see her eyes getting narrow again. He said to himself, Don't underestimate the brains of this girl; that head of hers is no empty tool box.
Frieda was saying, "You told Charley you're wanted for murder in New Orleans. You told him the set-up, what you did and why you did it and maybe by this time he's bought your story. Unless, of course--"
He waited for her to go on. She was looking at him and her eyes remained narrow.
"Unless what?" he murmured.
"Maybe you're bluffing."
He frowned.
"If you're bluffing," she said, "it's a cinch Charley's gonna find out. Like I told you, it just ain't possible to fool Charley."
He erased the frown. There was nothing special on his face as he said, "I gave him a few facts, that's all. A few straight facts. It happened in New Orleans, it was my brother who died, it was me who did it, and it was murder."
"You said you did it for money," she said. "And that makes it professional. If you'd done it for any other reason, it wouldn't have been professional. Most murders are strictly hate jobs. Or love jobs. Or something you do when you go crazy for a minute and then you're sorry. But when it's done for money it's purely a business transaction, it puts you in a special bracket, it makes you really a professional."
He thought: She's got me, she set the trap very nicely and I'll be damned if she hasn't got me.
"The way it stacks up," she said, "the fact you murdered somebody, that ain't important to Charley. Or who you murdered. Or the way you did it. Only thing Charley wants to know is why you did it. So you tell him you did it for money. And if he buys that, you're safe, you got a membership card, you're really in. But on the other hand, if he finds out you didn't do it for the money--"
"You think I was bluffing about that?"
"I don't think anything," Frieda said. "All I'm saying is, if you told him the truth you got nothing to worry about. And if there's nothing to worry about, there's no reason to have the blues."
"You're right." He grinned. "They're gone away. No more blues."
She grinned back at him. "You sure?"
He nodded slowly.
She got up from the chair. "Well," she said, "I'm still in that same condition. I'm ready."
He stood up. "So am I."
She moved toward him and put her arm around his middle. His hand settled on the solid fat meat of her hip. The only feeling he had was the feeling of taking a ride he didn't want to take. But the thing to do was take it and like it, or anyway try to make her believe he was liking it. He thought: This is a very hungry woman and she won't settle for anything less than a first-class job. You disappoint her, you'll really be singing the blues. She's found the loophole in your New Orleans news item and all she needs to do is put a little bug in Charley's ear and next on the agenda is he does some checking and discovers you told him just one tiny untruth, you said you murdered your brother for money and Christ knows it wasn't for money, so when Charley finds out you're not a professional it's definitely the wind-up, he'll give you a kindly smile, a gentle goodbye, he'll put the bullet in you veryquick and merciful. Well, all right then, we'll try to handle it so it won't wind up that way. We'll try to keep Frieda happy. It's sure taking us a long time to get upstairs. That's your fault, you're walking too slow. Let's negotiate these stairs a little faster. Another thing, let's give her a smile, get it sort of hot and eager, come on, put it across like they do in the movies when it's just pretending but they gotta make it seem real, like the way they do it when they're aiming for an Academy Award, but then if they don't get it they can try again next year, the lucky bastards, but for you it's just this one try and if you