David Goodis: The Moon in the Gutter

“Is that what she paid you?”

The man nodded.

Kerrigan’s eyes narrowed. “She pay in advance?”

“Yeah.” The man put his hand against his trousers pocket.

“Let’s have it,” Kerrigan said.

It was two fives and a ten. The man handed him the bills and he folded them carefully. He said, “You sure she didn’t give you more?”

The man tried to smile. “If she wanted you rubbed out complete, it would have cost her a hundred. For this kind of job, to put a man outta action, we never charge more than twenty.”

“Bargain rates,” Kerrigan muttered.

It was quiet for some moments. And then the man was saying, “Look, mister, I got a record. I’m out on parole. Wanna gimme a break?”

Kerrigan smiled dryly. “O.K.,” he said. He pointed to the doorway.

“Thanks,” the man said. “Thanks a lot, mister.”

Kerrigan watched him as he walked away, moving slowly and painfully, pausing in the doorway to offer a final gesture of gratitude, then limping out upon the loading platform and vanishing in the storm.

Kerrigan looked down at the money folded in his hand.

Despite his anxiety for a showdown with Bella, he purposely delayed going home. For one thing, he wanted to be very calm when he faced her. Also, and more important, he wanted the discussion to be strictly private. On Wharf Street he entered a diner, ordered a heavy meal, took a few bites and pushed the plate aside. He sat there ordering countless cups of coffee and filling the ash tray with cigarette stubs. Then later he walked along Wharf through the storm, found a thirty-cent movie house, and bought a ticket.

When he came out of the movie it was past midnight. The storm had slackened and now the rainfall was a steady, dull drone. He didn’t mind walking in the rain and his stride was somewhat casual as he walked north on Wharf Street. But later, on Vernon, the anxiety hit him again and he hurried his pace.

Entering the house, he quickly checked all the rooms. Frank was nowhere around, Tom and Lola were asleep, and Bella’s room was empty. He went into the unlit parlor, took a chair near the window, and sat there in the dark waiting for Bella to come home.

Some nights Bella came home very late. Maybe tonight she wouldn’t be coming home at all. Maybe she was on a bus or a train, telling herself she’d evened the score and it was a wise move now to get out of town. But while the thought drifted through his mind, he saw Bella walking across Vernon Street and approaching the house. She moved somewhat unsteadily. She wasn’t really drunk, but it was obvious she’d been drinking.

He stood away from the window. The door opened and Bella came in and plumped herself on the sofa. In the darkness of the parlor she didn’t see him, but enough light came through the window so that he could watch what she was doing. Her handbag was open and she was taking out a pack of cigarettes. She put one in her mouth and then she searched for a match.

Kerrigan spoke very softly. “Hello, Bella.”

She let out a startled cry.

“It’s only me,” he said. He flicked the wall switch, and the ceiling bulbs were lit.

Bella sat stiffly, holding her breath as she stared at him. It seemed that her eyes were coming out of her face.

Kerrigan moved toward her. He had a match book in his hand. He struck a match and applied the flame to her cigarette, but she didn’t inhale. He kept the flame there and finally she took a spasmodic drag, her body shaking as the smoke came out of her mouth.

He blew out the match, dropped it into a tray. Then very slowly, as though he were performing a carefully rehearsed ceremony, he reached into his trousers pocket and took out the folded money, the two fives and the ten. He unfolded the bills and smoothed them between his fingers. Then he extended them slowly and held them in front of her bulging eyes.

She was trying to look at something else, trying to stare at the carpet, a chair, the wall, anything at all, just so she wouldn’t be seeing the money. But although her head moved, her eyes were fastened on the money.

“Here,” he said, offering her the money. “It’s yours.”

He waited for her to take the bills. She kept her hands down, her fingers gripping the edge of the sofa. Her throat contracted as though she were trying to swallow something very thick and heavy in her throat.

Then suddenly her shoulders sagged. She lowered her head. “Oh, my God,” she moaned. “Oh, my God.”

Kerrigan placed the bills in the opened handbag. He said, “Don’t take it so hard. You haven’t lost anything. After all, you got your money back.”

She looked at him. “Why don’t you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Knock my teeth out. Break my neck.”

He shook his head. He said, “I think you’re hurt enough already.”

She dragged at the cigarette. Then she leaned back heavily against the sofa pillow, gazing past him and saying dully, “How’d you get the money?”

He shrugged. “I asked for it.”

She went on gazing past him. “I should have known they’d louse things up.” For a long moment she was quiet. And then, as though she were very tired, she closed her eyes. “All right, tell me what happened.”

“Nothing much. But they made a nice try. They came damn near earning their pay.”

She looked at his hands. His knuckles were skinned, and she nodded slowly and said, “It musta been a nice little party.”

“Yeah,” he said dryly, “it was a lot of fun.”

“They get banged up much?”

“Enough to make it a sad ending,” he said. “One of them is out of business for at least a month. The other one is out for keeps.”

She took another drag at the cigarette. She didn’t say anything.

He said, “Next time you hire a wrecking crew, don’t pay them in advance.”

The smoke drifted very slowly from her lips. Her eyes followed the uncurling tendrils as she said, “It wasn’t me who paid them. And it wasn’t my idea to hire them.”

He seized her shoulders. “What was the setup?”

Her lips were locked tightly. She started to shake her head.

“Cut that out,” he said. “You’ve started to tell me and you’re gonna finish.”

“I can’t.”

“But you will.” His grip on her shoulders was like a set of metal clamps. “I had a feeling it wasn’t your idea to begin with. It figures there was an agent in charge of this deal. It figures from every angle. There’s someone in this neighborhood who knows I’m looking for him. He knows what’s gonna happen when I find out who he is and get my hands on him. You check what I’m talkin’ about?”

Bella blinked several times. Her mouth opened but no sound came through.

“I’m talkin’ about my sister,” he said. “She killed herself because she was jumped and ruined and driven crazy. Whoever he is, he knows I’ll keep looking until I find him. So it stands to reason he don’t want me around. You check it now?”

She stopped squirming. She stared at him.

He said, “The man is nervous. He’s scared. What he’d like most is to see me in a wooden box. But he’d probably settle for less, like a twenty-dollar deal to cripple me. To put me out of action so he’d be safe for a while. And that’s where you come in.”

She shut her eyes tightly.

He kept the tight hold on her shoulders. “The way it lines up,” he said, “you were used for sucker bait. The man knew you had it in for me. He appointed himself as a friendly adviser. Tells you there’s a way to even the score, and before you know what you’re doing, you give him the twenty dollars. Ain’t that how it happened?”

She nodded dazedly.

Kerrigan went on, “He hands the money to the hooligans. He tells them you’re the customer. That keeps his name out of it, just in case there’s a slip-up. Anyway, that’s what he thought. But you know his name and I’m waiting for you to open your mouth.”