Free David Goodis: Five Noir Novels of the 1940s and '50s (Library of America) by David Goodis Page B

was set with pillow and sheets and there were six ash trays stocked with stubs, a magazine on the floor, an empty ginger-ale bottle resting on the magazine. Parry knew Fellsinger had fallen asleep on the davenport after having finished the magazine and the ginger aleand the cigarettes. There was a trumpet on one of two chairs.
    “Jesus Christ,” Fellsinger said again.
    “How’ve you been, George?”
    “I’ve been all right. Jesus, Vincent, I never expected anything like this—” Fellsinger ran to a small table, opened a drawer, took out a carton of cigarettes. With a thumbnail he slit the carton, extracted a pack, and with the same thumbnail he opened the pack, with the same thumbnail got a match lit. He ignited Parry’s cigarette, ignited his own and then went back to the door and leaned against it.
    “You saw the papers?”
    “Sure,” Fellsinger said. “And I couldn’t believe it. And I can’t believe this.”
    “There’s no getting away from it, George. I’m here. This is really me.”
    “In that brand-new suit?”
    Parry explained the suit. From the suit he went back to the road, told Fellsinger how she had picked him up, told Fellsinger everything.
    “You can’t work it that way,” Fellsinger said. “What you’ve got to do is take yourself out of town. Out of the state. Out of the country.”
    “That’s for later. What I need now is a new face.”
    “He’ll ruin you. I tell you, Vince, you’re working it wrong. Every minute you waste in town is——”
    “Look, George, you said I was innocent. You always kept saying that. Do you still believe it?”
    “Of course. It was an accident. Nobody killed her.”
    “All right, then. Do you want to help me?”
    “Of course I want to help you. Anything, Vince. Anything I can do. For Christ’s sake——”
    “Look, George, have there been any big changes in your life since they put me away?”
    “I don’t know what you mean.”
    “I mean, you never used to have any visitors. You were always alone up here. Is it still that way?”
    “Yes. I lead a miserable life, Vince. You know that. You know I have nobody. You were my only friend.” A suggestion of tears appeared in Fellsinger’s eyes.
    Parry didn’t notice the tears. He said, “I’m mighty glad nobody comes up here. That’ll make it easy. And it won’t be more than a week. Do it for me, George. That’s all I’m asking. Just let me stay here for a week.”
    “Vince, you can stay here for a year, for ten years. But that’s not the point. You said she gave you money. That’s half the battle already. With money you can travel. Here you’ll only run into the police. Maybe even now——”
    “I can’t travel with this face. It needs to be changed. I’m going there tonight. Maybe the police will be here when I get back. Maybe not. It’s fifty-fifty.”
    Fellsinger took a key case from the back pocket of his trousers. He unringed a key and handed it to Parry. “It’s good for both doors,” he said. “I still think you’re working it wrong, Vince.”
    “Got anything to drink?”
    “Some rum. It’s awful stuff, but that’s all I can get these days.”
    “Rum. Anything.”
    Fellsinger went into the kitchen, came out with a bottle of rum and two water glasses. He half filled both glasses.
    They stood facing each other, gulping the rum.
    “I still can’t believe it,” Fellsinger said.
    “I was lucky,” Parry said. “I got breaks. If I had planned it for a year it couldn’t have worked out any better. The truck was right where I wanted it to be. The guards were nowhere around. It was all luck.”
    “And that girl,” Fellsinger said.
    Parry started to say something, then found his lips were closed, found the words were crumbling up and becoming nothing. He didn’t want to talk about her. He was sorry he had told Fellsinger about her. He couldn’t understand why he had told Fellsinger everything, even her name and her address and even the number of her apartment. He