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.
But that wasn’t why he come. Since seeing me he had received an anonymous letter hinting that his son knew something about a suspected Klan murder over at a town twenty miles away.
“I think he did, too,” Thompson said. “I think that he kept it from me, but was going to give the information out at the trial. He didn’t tell me all he knew because he feared for my safety.” Of course that was news, but it wasn’t good policy for him to drop right in on me. Why, if the Klan had half an eye out they’d know what was in the wind, and results proved that they did.
That very night Old Thompson was visited in his home by a number of white-robed figures and — well — we’ll put it down to the fear that something might happen to his boy — but anyway he out with the whole story of how he had hired me to come down. He may have had some excuse; his nerves may have been shot to pieces, but this same Thompson sure lacked guts.
And the next day he lights out of town and calls me up. He tells me what happened and how he was forced to tell and then up and begs me to stay on the case. And what’s more, he promises to double the check. What do you think? I stayed on, of course. I felt like bawling him out, but I didn’t. The whole world might know why I was there and perhaps it wouldn’t do this gang no harm to learn the sort of a man they had to deal with.
And that night the Klan honored me with a visit. Three of them there were and they must have put on their getup in the hall. Yep, all dolled up like the heavy chorus in a burlesque show they walked in on me.
Two of them stood one on either side of the door, rubbing their knees together, acting like they was a couple of businessmen what didn’t like playing the fool. But the third lad was different — he was the real thing and no fake about him. He was big and powerful as he swung across the floor and faced me. He stood so a moment, glaring down at me through the slits in his white hood.
I just sat there in the chair looking him over and smoking; then I grinned. I couldn’t help it. I could see the deadly threat coming.
“You are not a member of the Klan — the Great Invisible Empire?”
And he out with the last three words like he was announcing the batteries for the day’s game at the Polo Grounds.
“No, I ain’t,” I tell him, pretending to wipe away a tear. “I wanted to join, but — well, you see I catch cold so easy. I got to stick to the pajamas.”
But he never made a break, so I see I was wasting my time kidding that bird. So I made things easy for him.
“Don’t try to figure it out,” I says. “Come spill the sad news. Surely this ain’t no pleasure call; out with the dirt!”
I don’t know if he got it all or not, but he come out flat-footed and didn’t make no more bones about it. And I’m giving him credit for a lad that talked like he meant business.
“You have caused the displeasure of the Klan; we want no hired gunmen in Clinton,” he said. “You have twenty-four hours to leave town — twenty-four.”
“You couldn’t make that twenty-five,” I chirp. “You see, I want to attend your next meeting and sort of bust things up.”
Oh, I just wanted to get him mad.
And it worked!
“You have heard me.” I can almost see him glare through the slits. “And be careful of that tongue of yours, for I have a gun — a gun that I draw and shoot in one second.”
And then he finished things up with a string of oaths that, if not original, were at least well chosen.
But he was speaking my language now — this gun business — and I just stood up and faced him.
“Listen, Dough-head.” And I wasn’t talking for pleasure now. “So you have a gun that shoots in one second, eh? Well, let me give you some advice. If that’s the best you can do you had better keep that gun parked. I’m telling you flat that you’d be exactly one-half a second too late.”
His hand half lowered to his side.
“If you don’t believe me try it,” I encouraged. “Your two friends there can carry you out.”
Was I bluffing? Say, I was talking gospel and he knew it.
Then, when he didn’t try nothing, I whipped out my gun and covered the three of them. And with that I make a grab and pull off the big lad’s hood. I just wanted to get one look at his map and one look was enough — you could a picked him in a straw hat at Coney Island. He had a chin like one of the Smith Brothers or both of them — all whiskers and all hair and eyebrows.
“Listen, Feather-Face.” I pound his ribs gentle like with the automatic. “You ain’t dealing with no women nor a half-grown boy nor a distracted father now. You’ll give me twenty-four hours, will you? Well, I’ll give you twenty-four seconds to get out. And the next time you come around here I’ll take that night shirt off you and shove it down your throat — whiskers and all.”
I was mad now and meant it. This white-hooded frightener of women and children couldn’t come none of that high-falutin game on me, and what’s more I didn’t like the names he had called me.
“You’ve had one look at my gun,” I told them as they sneaked out. “The next time you have cause to see it you’ll see it smoking; now — beat it!”
Which they done. Say, them boys had never had such a shock in their lives. I just sat down on the bed and roared.
The next morning I find a little slip under my door; it’s from the hotel manager and it asks me to leave. So the Klan had opened up. Of course, I wasn’t ready to go and I knew that they couldn’t drive me out. You see, the town was about half and half; the authorities didn’t side with the Klan nor they didn’t come out against it; everybody was just sitting tight to see which way things was going to break. But if I was going to do a little gunning I’d need my night’s sleep and if this manager was against me it would keep me pretty well on the jump. But I just shrug my shoulders and beat it downstairs, thinking things over.
I nod good morning to Jimmy O’Brien, the clerk. He’s a real friendly lad and his handle tells me that he ain’t no Klansman. There was no one else in the lobby, so I just wander to the doors and look out. And through them doors I catch a slant which is sure surprising even way off in that little Western town. Three men are coming down the street — single file — and there’s about twenty-five feet between; right down the center of the main street they walk. Each has a gun swinging from his shoulder, but it don’t hang over his back; it’s swinging loose and mighty handy under the armpit — just a movement and it’s ready to shoot.
The leader is a man which I place at over sixty; he’s small but stocky — the other two must be in the thirties, big strapping giants of men.
I half turn as a figure comes to my side; it’s Jimmy O’Brien. Of course I know that he’s heard about my visitors last night. He was in the lobby when they beat it out.
“Who’s the three desperadoes that take the middle of the road — more of the Klan?” I ask the clerk.
“No,” says Jimmy. “That’s Buck Jabine and his two sons. They are the only ones in town that openly defy the Klan. This Buck Jabine killed three men back in the old days — no, they ain’t a family to fool with.”
I could see that as they tramped up the street; they look business, all three of them.
“You see,” Jimmy explained, “Buck talked against the Klan and then he began to get threatening letters. But he didn’t leave town. He opened up with a warning that anyone found on his property after dark would be shot. This Buck shoots straight and quick — since that warning he ain’t had no trouble — only letters. But they are coming here.”
He breaks off suddenly.
The next minute they come in the door — one, two, three.
The old man takes one look around and then comes straight up to me.