Dark Passage by David Goodis Page A

you?”
    “Headache.”
    “Got any aspirins?”
    “In the bathroom cabinet.”
    He went into the bathroom, came back with
two aspirins and a glass half-filled with water. She smiled at him.
She took the aspirins and drank all the water. He took the glass
back to the bathroom. When he came back to the bedroom she was
opening the paper boxes.
    It amounted to almost a wardrobe. Four
shirts, three white and one grey. Five neckties, three grey and two
on a grey-violet theme. Five sets of underwear and a stack of
handkerchiefs. Six pairs of grey socks. A grey worsted suit with a
vertical suggestion of violet. A pair of tan straight-tipped
blucher shoes. And grey suspenders.
    There were other things. A military brush
and a comb. A toothbrush and a jar of shaving cream and a safety
razor.
    She arranged the things neatly on the bed
and then she went out of the room. Parry got started with the
clothes. Everything fitted perfectly. His hair was still damp from
the shower and it moved nicely under the brush and comb. He had on
one of the white shirts and a grey-violet tie and he put a white
handkerchief in the breast pocket of the grey worsted suit. He felt
very new and shining.
    He walked into the parlor.
    Irene was sitting on the davenport and
when she saw him she smiled and said, “Well—hello.”
    “Okay?”
    “Very okay.”
    “I bet you paid plenty.”
    “I like to spend money for
clothes.”
    “What did you tell them?”
    “I said I had a boy friend just discharged
from the Army and I wanted to surprise him with a complete new
outfit. They’re a small, exclusive store and they don't like to be
hurried. But it was a big order and they didn't want to lose it,
and anyway there wasn't much work to be done on the
suit.”
    “How’s the headache?”
    “Better.”
    “That’s good. Thanks for the
clothes.”
    “You’re welcome, Vincent. You're really
very welcome. And I've got something else for you.” She opened a
handbag, took the wrapping from a flat white case. She handed it to
him.
    It contained a round waterproof-type wrist
watch, chromium plated with a grey suede strap.
    Parry looked at the wrist watch. He said,
“Why this?”
    “You’ll need a watch. That's one of the
things you'll really need.”
    He put the watch on his wrist. He said,
“You’re laying out a lot of money. Can you afford it?”
    “What do you think?”
    “I’ve got an idea you can afford
it.”
    “You’ve got the right idea,” she said.
“Now tell me where you got it.”
    “From the clipping.”
    Her eyes were soft. Her lips weren’t
curved but it was a smile anyway. She said, “Vincent, will you
always be that way with me?”
    “What way?”
    “Honest.”
    “Yes. I’ll be that way with you until we
say good-by. It's getting dark now. It's almost time to say
good-by.”
    She stood up. She said, “Let’s have
dinner. I'm not a bad cook. Do you like fried chicken?”
    “Better than anything.”
    “Same here,” she said, and then they were
looking at each other. She started a smile, started to lose it, got
it again when he smiled at her. They stood there smiling at each
other. He reached toward the cigarette box and she said. “Light one
for me,” and then she went into the kitchen.
    He lit two cigarettes, went into the
kitchen, saw her putting on an apron. She was tying the apron
strings. She gestured with her lips and he put the cigarette in her
mouth and walked out of the kitchen.
    “Let’s have some music,” she
said.
    “Radio?”
    “Yes, put the radio on.”
    He got the radio working. A small studio
orchestra was trying to do something with Holiday for Strings but
there weren’t enough strings. Toward the middle most of the
orchestra seemed to be taking a holiday. Parry went over to a
circular mirror at the other side of the room and looked at himself
and admired the grey suit. He fingered the necktie and then he
touched the smoothness of the suede wrist-watch strap. Looking at
the wrist watch he told himself it was fast. It couldn't be eight
already. He turned toward the window. The San