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.
Pardo grinned. “That’s your job,” he said. “You get him — I’ll kill him.”
Gus whistled softly. “Sure, sure,” he agreed, and went from the dressing room.
When he got in the corridor again he moved slowly towards a Forty-ninth Street exit. He lighted a cigar and swore softly.
“I get him — and the Big Boy kills him!” he breathed to himself. “Now, that ain’t just what I’d call dumb.”
Chapter II
Berryman ran stubby fingers over his bald head and watched the swinging doors of the speakeasy nervously. The doors separated a narrow hallway from the bar and the few tables along the side wall. Berryman took the fingers away from his head and tapped the surface of the table. Gus Monkly sipped his beer and shoved a cigar around between his narrow lips. The half-moon scar on his right cheek twitched a little more than usual, and his beady eyes were a little brighter than at most times.
Berryman said: “Bolley’ll lick him, sure as hell. Jeez — but I hate to see that coin get away from us, Gus.”
The manager grinned at Pardo’s chief second. He said in his husky, flat voice:
“Yeah — away from us? How do you cut in, Berry?”
The second showed yellow teeth in a swift grin. He said very softly:
“Be wise, Gus — hand over a piece to me. It’ll be easier.”
Monkly sat up a little in his chair and moved his head forward. He stopped sipping the beer. His beady eyes got narrow.
“Let’s get it over with, Berry,” he said in a hard tone. “You’ve got somethin’ on your mind. It’s been there a week or so. Spill it loose.”
The second kept tapping on the dirty table surface and watching the swinging doors. Gus leaned forward a little more.
“Get it out, Berry!” he advised. “You’re a pretty expensive second for me to carry.”
A little red went out of Berryman’s face. He got very quiet.
“I’m pretty cheap, Gus,” he corrected. “I’m cheap as hell.”
The swinging doors opened; a short, plump blonde came in. She spoke to the bartender, waved her left hand towards the table at which Gus and Berryman sat. Her right arm was held close to her side. She walked over, and Gus kicked out a chair. He didn’t speak.
Berryman said: “Hello, Edna — where’s Hurry?”
The blonde looked at Gus and didn’t answer the second. She leaned towards the manager and said cheerfully:
“That was a nice scrap your wop put up last night. Maybe he’s a champ, eh?”
She laughed without looking happy. There was too much color on her face skin and the wrong shade on her lips. She had dull gray eyes, and they were too black underneath.
Gus said: “Maybe, yeah.”
The girl made the laughing sound again. She looked at Berryman and answered his question.
“Hurry’ll be along pretty quick. He had to make a trip to Philly, after the scrap.”
Gus Monkly sucked in his breath and reached for the beer. The girl said:
“Yeah, I’ll have something. Damn’ nice of you two chiselers to think of it!”
Berryman called the waiter. The girl ordered whiskey and White Rock. Gus said in a tone that was too soft:
“What do you mean — chiselers?”
The blonde smiled without parting her rouged lips.
“I figured maybe you might not sell Hurry the hunk he’s counting on,” she said slowly.
Gus Monkly frowned at her and stretched his arms. He stopped frowning, grinned.
“You talk too damn’ much, Edna,” he said. “I’m out of beer, anyway.”
She nodded. “How much have you made on that wop, Gus?” she said softly.
Gus looked at his fingernails and said that he’d taken a bad trimming on the World Series games. Berryman watched the swinging doors and said nothing. The girl kept her eyes on Monkly and smiled. Her smile wasn’t too pretty.
“Well, you get the idea,” she said. “When Hurry parks himself close to you — don’t stall. What he’s looking for is the answer.”
Gus said disagreeably: “I don’t know what you’re gabbing about, Edna. If Hurry’s got the hunch that—”
He stopped. The swinging doors moved and a man came through. He came through slowly. He was a big man, with broad shoulders and a moon face. He looked a lot like Paul Whiteman. Berryman got up and pulled over a chair from another table. Gus straightened up and got a smile on his face. The blonde said:
“Gus has been worried about you, Hurry.”
The big man moved towards the table. He didn’t move his arms as he walked, and his pace was slow. He smiled gently.
“Well, ain’t that nice,” he stated in a homey tone. “I don’t like having people worried about me.”
He sat down, and when the waiter brought the blonde her whiskey and White Rock he ordered the same. He turned his small eyes on Gus and chuckled. He chuckled like a traveling salesman about to tell a story.
“Maybe that guy can fight, Gus,” he said. “Maybe he can get past Bolley.”
Gus widened his eyes and looked surprised. “Don’t be that way, Hurry,” he said softly. “Giant Pardo — fight? Quit kiddin’ — Bolley’ll kill him.”
Hurry smiled almost gently and took his eyes away from the beady ones of Monkly. He looked down at the rigid right arm of the girl.
“How’s the arm, Kid?” he asked.
Edna Harms shook her head. She sipped whiskey and said slowly:
“I hate gettin’ that slug from a guy that was quittin’ you, Hurry. Maybe I’ll be able to swing it again sometime. The doc ain’t sure.”
Hurry stopped smiling and said to Gus: “Remember the afternoon the Kid took that slug, Gus?”
Gus Monkly’s narrow lips twitched. He remembered the afternoon well enough. There had been a lot of times he would have liked to forget it. He said to Hurry:
“Listen — I picked the wop up when I worked loose from Chi. He’s dumb, Hurry. He’s just a little too dumb. Mike almost came back and finished him tonight. The referee happened to be in the way.”
Hurry Lassen tapped the leather of his right shoe on the wood beneath the table. He let his moon face grin but he talked hard.
“I happen to be in the way — right now, Gus.”
The manager wet his lips with his tongue, looked at Lou Berryman. He said in a voice that was a little strained:
“I’ve only got forty percent of him, Hurry. Berry’s got forty. A guy named Langdon’s got the rest. He greased me so that I could get the Big Boy away from the little lake town where I found him. He runs a small club there.”
Hurry sat back in his chair and looked at the drink the waiter had brought. He whistled a little. The girl looked at him.
“He’s lyin’, Hurry,” she said in a tone that had a lot of hate in it.
Gus turned his head towards her and said in a nasty voice:
“Now you keep out of this, Edna. It ain’t healthy to lie to Hurry, and I know it.”
Lassen raised his eyebrows and looked at Lou Berryman. He said in a voice that was half amused:
“So you’ve got a forty percent cut in this Giant Pardo, eh?”
Berryman nodded. He tried to smile. Gus spoke softly.
“Berry’s been pretty nice with me, Hurry. I gave him the cut cheap. But we didn’t figure the Big Boy would even scrap in the Garden ropes.”
The girl laughed bitterly. “They’re both lyin’, Hurry,” she said. “They blundered into a money fighter — that big bozo will slam Bolley down. The next scrap will mean half a million. It’ll be with the champ — and the champ’s making a come-back. An outdoor shot, Hurry.”
Hurry’s moon-like face stopped smiling. He nodded his head slowly.