Read Dark Passage for Free Online Page B

at the door as she stepped away from him and
went into another room. He didn't know what she was doing in the
other room. When she came back she had a tape measure in her hand.
He looked at the tape measure and then he looked at her
face.
    She said, “I’m going to buy you some
clothes.”
    “When?”
    “Right now. I want the exact measurements.
I want the fit to be perfect. And it’s got to be expensive clothes.
I know a place near here—”
    She took his measurements. He didn’t say
anything. She took the measurements and then she made notes in a
small memo book. He watched her going into another room. Again he
heard the sound of a bureau drawer getting opened. As she came out
again she was counting a roll of bills. A thick roll.
    “No,” Parry said. “Let’s forget about it.
I'm going
    “You’re staying,” she said. “I'm going.
And I'll be back soon. While you wait here you can be doing things.
Like getting rid of those rags you're wearing. All of them, even
the shoes. Take them into the kitchen. You'll find wrapping paper
there. Make a bundle and throw it into the incinerator. Then go
into the bathroom and treat yourself to a hot shower. Nice and hot
and plenty of soap. And you need a shave.” A little laugh got out
before she could stop it.
    “What’s the laugh for?”
    “I was thinking you could use his razor.
It’s a Swedish hollow-ground safety razor. I used to be married and
I gave it to my husband for a Christmas present. He didn't like it.
I used it every now and then when I went to the beach. I stopped
using it when someone told me depilatory cream was
better.”
    “What happened to your
husband?”
    “He took a walk.”
    “When was this?”
    “Long, long ago. I was twenty-three when
we married and it lasted sixteen months and two weeks and three
days. He told me I was too easy to get along with and it was
getting dull. I just remembered there’s no shaving soap. But I've
got some skin cream. You can rub that in and then use the ordinary
soap and you won't cut yourself. The incinerator is next to the
sink. Don't forget to get every stitch of those clothes into the
bundle. Maybe you better make two bundles so you'll be sure they
get down.”
    “All right, I’ll make two
bundles.”
    She was at the door now. She said, “I’ll
be back soon. Is there anything special you want?”
    “No.”
    “Will you do me a favor,
Vincent?”
    “What?”
    “Will you be here when I come
back?”
    “Maybe.”
    “I want to know, Vincent.”
    “All right, I’ll be here.”
    “What colors do you like?”
    “Grey,” he said. “Grey and violet.” He
wanted to laugh. He didn’t laugh. “Sometimes a bit of yellow here
and there.”
    She opened the door and left the
apartment. Parry stood a few feet away from the door and looked at
the door for several minutes. Then he walked back to the tray where
the gin was and he poured himself two shots and got them down fast.
He took a drink of water, went into the kitchen and found the
wrapping paper. He undressed, slowly at first, then gradually
faster as he realized he was getting rid of Studebaker’s clothes
and they were dirty clothes. For the first time he was aware that
they had a smell and they were itchy. It was a pleasure to take
them off and throw them away. Now he was naked and he was making
two bundles. He got a ball of string from the kitchen cabinet, tied
the bundles securely, then let them go down the incinerator. He
heard the swishing noise as the bundles dropped, the vague thud
that told him they had reached bottom. Knowing that Studebaker's
clothes and the prison shoes were going to burn and become ashes he
felt slightly happy.
    He walked into the bathroom. It was yellow
tile, all of it. There was a glassed-in shower and he got it
started and used a rectangle of lavender soap. He made the shower
very hot, then soaped himself well, got the hot water on again,
switched to full cold, let it hit him for the better part of a
minute. Then he was out of the shower, using a thick yellow towel
that he could have