The Black Lizard Big Book of Black Mask Stories
- Автор: Adams Cleve F., Babcock Dwight V.
- Год: 2010
- Язык: английский
- Год: A Vintage Crime/Black Lizard
- ISBN: 978-0-307-45543-7
- Жанр: Криминальные детективы
Электронная книга - «The Black Lizard Big Book of Black Mask Stories». Краткое содержание книги:
Black Mask was the apotheosis of noir. It was the magazine where the first hardboiled detective story, which was written by Carroll John Daly appeared. It was the slum in which such American literary titans like Dashiell Hammett and Raymond Chandler got their start, and it was the home of stories with titles like “Murder Is Bad Luck,” “Ten Carets of Lead,” and “Drop Dead Twice.” Collected here is best of the best, the hardest of the hardboiled, and the darkest of the dark of America’s finest crime fiction. This masterpiece collection represents a high watermark of America’s underbelly. Crime writing gets no better than this.
“So!” The jeweler hissed, resentfully. “You intend to intimidate me, to induce me to present a less complete list of my losses. Well” — his manila-rope beard stuck out at right angles to his neck — “you will not frighten Ramon Dumont. No. Not one little bit—”
The phone rang sharply. Mike got it.
“I caught the sales manager in his office, working late, Mike. He checked his order book, and the Nik-Nak people sold that particular number to twenty-four jewelers in the metropolitan area.”
“We haven’t got time to fine-tooth twenty-four stores, Ed. Look up their cards.”
“I already done it,” Schmidt announced. “There’s only two of the twenty-four on our blue list.”
“Which two?”
“Salvatore Monterro, down on Nassau Street, and that big outfit up in Harlem. Nathan Kutwik.”
“Ah! Maybe you got something there, Eddie. Grab your hat. I’ll pick you up down front, in five minutes.”
He left Brundage cross-questioning the jeweler, ran his coupe up to headquarters. Schmidt was waiting. “Pile in, pal.”
“Holy cats, Mike. What smacked you?”
“Glass out of Litzman’s window. I want to do a little smacking back.”
“Can’t blame you for that.”
“They laid for me up at the blonde’s hangout, too, Ed. Wanted to put me out of the picture because they weren’t sure how much the blonde had told me before she died.”
“How much did she tell you?”
“Not one damn thing. But I dug the Nik-Nak lead up in her room.”
“It smells like trouble, Mike. Wouldn’t it be an idea to let the Homicide babies do the dirty work up in Harlem?”
“A lousy idea. They’ll be on the Litzman end, anyhow. But this business is right down our alley. We know this Kutwik is a chiseling fence, or he wouldn’t be on the suspected file. Maybe he’s been engineering all of these window-hole jobs.”
“His place’ll probably be closed, this hour.”
“Might. Might be open, too. They do more business in Harlem around midnight than they do in the daytime.”
When they rolled up in front of a dazzling corner in the heart of Harlem Mike got out of the coupe. The luminous sign said — YOUR Kredit Is Good at Kutwik’s Korner.
“You can watch through the window, from here, Eddie. Don’t let anybody climb on my back.” Mike went inside.
There was only one man in the store, a tall, powerfully built individual with expressionless gray eyes and skin the color of tallow. “Something I can do for you, sir?”
“Maybe. I’m a police officer. You’re Nathan Kutwik?”
The big man’s eyes narrowed. “I am.”
“Then you’ll know about a girl who bought a dresser-set here a little while ago.”
Kutwik pulled down the corners of his mouth and rotated his head slowly, from left to right. “I can’t be expected to remember every person—”
“You remember this blonde. Friend of the Babe’s and Gorilla George.”
A pendulum clock on the wall ticked off several seconds before Kutwik answered. “These persons you mention. I can’t seem to recall—”
Hansard shrugged. “Maybe they’re the ones who’re lying, then. They claim to know you, all right.”
“That’s quite possible.” The expressionless eyes stared insolently at Hansard. “I have been here on this corner for several years now.”
“Yeah. We been watching you for several years, too. You shouldn’t have any trouble remembering these lads. They say they been doing business with you for quite some time.”
Kutwik picked up a cocktail shaker made of ruby glass in the shape of a barrel, ringed with silver hoops. “What sort of business?”
“Stones. Their statement says they just left a bunch of stuff with you.” Mike was casual about it. As yet there was no indication his bluff was working. “I’m just waiting for the search warrant to come over from the station.”
The proprietor of the Kredit Korner waved a bloodless hand. “Help yourself. You don’t need a warrant in my store. Go right ahead.”
The plainclothesman played his last card. “If it was only some hot ice we were after, I’d take you up on that. But this is a homicide case, Kutwik.”
“Oh!” The jeweler set down the shaker, softly. “Someone has been killed?”
“The girl I just told you about. And a cop. You know how it is with the commissioner. When a policeman’s been murdered we put on plenty of pressure, but we have to do everything strictly legal, to be sure no pratt of a lawyer can beat a conviction.”
Kutwik took out a silk handkerchief, wiped his mouth. “This killing, now. It was in connection with those diamonds?”
“That’s right. And the party who’s fencing them is going to be charged as an accessory. It’s a chair-job for someone. But of course, if you’re in the clear, it won’t worry you.”
“Suppose” — the big man put both palms on the top of the showcase, bent over until his face was only a foot from Hansard’s — “an honest business man had been deceived about the ownership of certain gems, and was quite unaware of the manner in which they came into the possession of certain parties attempting to sell them—”
“Go ahead. I’m supposing...”
“Do you think the police would take this fact into consideration, my friend?”
Hansard smiled tightly. “They might. If the business man could help us to get a conviction.”
Kutwik sighed. “I give you my word of honor I knew nothing of this killing. Naturally, under such circumstances, I would immediately have turned the stones over to the authorities.”
“I bet you would,” said Hansard, curtly. “Let’s see ’em.”
The jeweler emerged from behind the counter, walked with a curious shambling gait to the door of the Kredit Korner, locked it. Mike grinned to himself. That would give Schmidt something to fret about.
The big man came back, beckoned to Hansard, led the way to a partition at the rear of the store. On the way, the detective gave the once-over to the big steel safe which stood under an electric light out where any passing policeman could make sure it hadn’t been tampered with. Evidently the jeweler didn’t trust his privately purchased goods to its security!
There was a tiny cubbyhole of an office, a big glass-topped desk and a modernistic lamp of varnished wood and copper. Kutwik snapped on the light, sat down in a padded chair.
“Let’s be open and above-board, my friend.”
“Let’s,” Mike agreed.
“Perhaps there is... um... a reward for the arrest of these men you tell me about.”
Mike stared. “Sure. Jewelers Association reward. Twenty-five hundred bucks or so, last time I heard. For evidence leading to conviction. Why?”
“As I understand it, you policemen are not qualified for such a reward, if you capture the criminals?”
“So which?”
Kutwik spread his palms, blandly. “Possibly we could work out some arrangement. You and I, eh? I give you the information; you see to it that I receive the reward. Then we split—”
Hansard shook his head in admiration. “You got your nerve. Putting a program like that up to me. Why, you putty-puss, you’ll be getting all the reward that’s coming to you if you miss getting indicted for complicity in murder. Now cut out the horse and show me the glitter.”
Kutwick sighed, pulled the lamp over in front of him. “You cops are so stupid about money matters. Who will it hurt if you and I split that twenty-five hundred?” There was no answer from the hockshop cop, so the jeweler grasped the base of the lamp in his left hand, twisted the top with his right.
The lamp unscrewed, the top lifted off, and there was a niche in the wooden base about the size of a bird’s nest. There were a lot of shiny eggs in it, round little gold eggs with diamonds in them.