Dark Passage by David Goodis

his
innocence, the same claim he made during the sensational trial in
San Francisco.
    Janney, a wealthy real-estate broker, was
accused of killing his bride of a second marriage, less than a week
after they had celebrated their first wedding anniversary. Death
was attributed to a skull fracture caused by a heavy blow with an
ornamental brass jar. The body had been found at the foot of a
staircase in the Janney home. Janney stated that his wife had
fallen down the stairs, had knocked the brass jar from the base of
the banister in her descent, then had struck her head on the jar.
This statement was disproved by the prosecution. It was established
that Janney had charged his wife with infidelity and had threatened
on several occasions to kill her. Janney’s fingerprints on the
brass jar was a primary factor in the guilty verdict.
    Efforts to obtain a new trial proved
fruitless. In recent months Janney’s attorneys made another plea
founded on new developments, the result of continued investigation
during the past four years. The plea made no headway due to lack of
witnesses.
    Janney was 54. He is survived by a son,
Burton, a chemical engineer in Portland. Also a daughter, Irene, a
grade-school student in the same city.
    There was a date at the top of the
clipping. It said February 9, 1928. Parry kept looking at the date.
On the basis of the date and the record-book date, she was nine
when her father died and she was five when the trial took place. He
read the clipping again. Then again. He decided she ought to be
coming back soon and maybe he ought to get the clipping and the
papers and books back in the drawer. He started to handle the
clipping and he was getting it back in the textbook when he heard
the door opening into the parlor and footsteps coming into the
apartment, going through the parlor, coming into the
bedroom.
    She looked at him. She looked at the
clipping half in his hand and half in the textbook. Her arms were
filled with paper boxes and she put these on the bed and kept on
looking at Parry, looking at the clipping, then back to
Parry.
    “Did you get rid of the clothes?” she
said.
    “Yes. I made two bundles and threw them
down the incinerator.”
    “How was the razor?”
    “Fine.”
    “That shower and shave did you a world of
good. How do you feel?”
    “Fine,” Parry said.
    She pointed to the open drawer. “What’s
the big idea?”
    “I didn’t have anything to do.”
    “All right, let’s close the drawer, shall
we?”
    Parry got the clipping into the textbook,
got the textbook back in the drawer along with the other books and
papers. He closed the drawer.
    She pointed to the closed drawer.
“Anything happen while I was away—outside of that?”
    “You had a caller.” He wondered why he was
telling her.
    Irene frowned. “I hope you didn’t answer
the buzzer.”
    “No, I didn’t answer the buzzer. But she
came up and she knocked on the door.”
    “A she?”
    “Yes. She talked to you through the door.
I stayed there and let her talk. It would have been all right
except I had the phonograph going and she could hear it. She kept
asking you to open the door. Finally I told her to go
away.”
    The frown went deeper. “That wasn’t such a
bright idea.”
    “I know. It got out before I could stop
it.”
    “Did she argue with you?”
    “No. She went away. Does that close
it?”
    “I hope so.”
    “What do you mean you hope so?” Parry
asked.
    “Well, my friends know I don’t go in for
that sort of thing. Now they'll think-”
    “All right, let me get into those clothes
and scram out of here.”
    “Wait,” Irene said. “I didn’t mean that. I
don't care what they think. I'm only trying to be technical. And
very careful.”
    “Let’s see the clothes.”
    She sat down on the edge of the bed and
looked at him. Then she blinked a few times and lowered her head.
She put a forefinger to the space between her eyes and pressed
there and took it around in little circles.
    Parry leaned back against the bureau. He
said, “You’re tired, aren't