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.
The Malay shook his head. His body relaxed a little; he rolled over on his back. He said very weakly:
“It was — the one who walks badly — always in white—”
His lips closed; he shivered — cried out a little. There was a convulsive movement of his body, then it was still. From the alley Mallagin called:
“Who — is that?”
Jo Gar narrowed his eyes and rose. He was thinking: The one who walks badly — always in white. But he said in a steady voice:
“It is Señor Gar — I have shot one of them.”
He heard the surprised exclamation from Lieutenant Mallagin. The Filipino came in close, stared down at the dead man. Carlysle, breathing heavily, was behind the lieutenant.
“The Chinese is dead — the chauffeur is dead,” he said. “One of my men is wounded. Mallagin and I escaped. You followed us?”
Jo Gar nodded. He said quietly: “This one tried to knife me — I was forced to shoot. He did not die instantly.”
Carlysle’s eyes widened. He said eagerly: “He talked?”
Jo nodded. His voice was almost toneless. “Cantine did not commit the robbery or murders,” he said. “The Chinese was paid to lie to you — and then to die.”
Carlysle stared at Jo. “The driver — paid to lie and then—”
Jo Gar shook his head. “He was not the driver,” he said slowly. “I spoke to him about machines — he knew very little. I was suspicious, and followed when you got word that one of Cantine’s men had been hurt.”
Carlysle breathed heavily. “You think it was a plan — to throw us off—” Jo Gar smiled a little. He glanced down at the dead man.
“If this man had not talked — you would have been after Cantine and his men” — he said quietly, a wrong scent.
Carlysle nodded his head very slowly. “He said nothing about who—”
Jo Gar shook his head slowly. “I have told you what he said,” he replied, and closed his eyes.
When he opened them, Carlysle was looking down at the dead man and frowning.
“We shall have to watch the boats,” he said grimly. “They have the diamonds — and they have killed many men.” He looked narrowly at the Island detective. “They got away with their machine-guns — all but this man,” he said. “You will help us, Señor Gar?”
Jo Gar smiled with his thin lips. His colorless eyes seemed to be looking beyond the American head of police. He shook his head very slowly.
“No,” he said. “It is — a police matter.”
Carlysle stiffened. “Juan Arragon was your friend,” he reminded.
Jo Gar stopped smiling. “It is so,” he agreed. “But I will not help you, Señor Carlysle.”
The American turned away, muttering something that the Island detective did not hear. Lieutenant Mallagin moved after his chief. Jo Gar looked down at the figure of the Malay and breathed very softly:
“ ‘The one who walks badly — always in white.’ ”
He sighed, and his eyes half closed. He glanced towards the knife handle, protruding from the basket wood. River odors were in his nostrils — a pony whinnied in the distance. Jo Gar said very slowly, in a half whisper:
“For Juan Arragon — I will help — myself.”
The Man in White
Ramon Decolta
An adventure of Jo Gar, the little Island detective, in search of murderers and their loot.
The Cheyo Maru took red color from the setting sun; her boat deck was soaked in it. The sea was calm; even the white wings of the gulls that rose and dipped astern were tinted red. Manila and the Island of Cavite were no longer to be seen astern. There were few people in the deck chairs; the first dinner gong had already sounded.
Jo Gar relaxed his short body, kept his almond-shaped eyes almost closed. Now and then he lifted his brown-paper cigarette, inhaled. It was almost as though he slept between puffs, but that was not so.
When the Japanese steward came rapidly towards his chair, the Island detective lifted his head slightly. The steward had been well tipped, and had been asked only a simple task. He reached Jo Gar’s chair now, bowed jerkily.
“He has left his cabin,” he said. “The man in white — the one who limps. He is coming.”
He spoke in his native tongue, which was the tongue in which Jo had spoken to him. When the Island detective jerked his head in a gesture of dismissal, the steward moved towards the stern of the liner and vanished from sight. Jo turned his head a little and watched the man in white approach. He was of medium size; dressed in duck. He had a lean face, and it was as though the sun had not touched it. It was almost the color of the spotless suit he wore. He moved slowly, as Jo had seen him move at the dock, several hours before the boat had sailed. There was a very slight limp; it appeared that he stepped lightly when weight was on his left leg.
The man’s face was turned away from him as he approached the spot opposite Jo’s chair. But as he neared it he took his eyes from the water, looked at Jo in a swift, searching glance. The man in white had blue eyes; they were small and expressionless. His lips were thin, and without much color.
He stopped suddenly, his eyes still on Jo. He said, a slow smile on his face:
“Señor Gar, isn’t it?”
Jo sat up and nodded. He even managed a little smile. He was very surprised, and tried not to let the other man know this.
The one in white nodded his head and seemed very pleased. His voice was soft, almost careless.
“Leaving the Islands?” he asked.
Jo Gar smiled pleasantly. “I have relatives in Honolulu,” he said. “Leaving the Islands — for more islands.”
The one in white chuckled a little. He said in an easy tone:
“I am Ferraro. For a time I was connected with the Constabulary. I have heard of you.”
Jo Gar bowed. Ferraro’s English was good though not perfect. There was a clipping of words, a cutting short, despite his leisurely manner of talking.
Ferraro said: “You leave at a bad time. A terrible crime — Delgado’s son, that watchman at the bank. And Juan Arragon. All dead.”
He shook his head. Jo Gar said: “You were acquainted with Señor Arragon?”
Ferraro frowned. “No,” he said. “But I had heard of him.”
Jo Gar relaxed again, inhaled. The one in white looked at the sea, shrugging.
“The murderers will be caught, of course. And the Von Loffler diamonds found. It is almost always so.”
Jo Gar closed his eyes and nodded. “Of course,” he agreed. “It is so — almost always.”
Ferraro looked at him again. “There are few passengers aboard, who came on at Manila. But perhaps you do not care to be addressed as Señor Gar?”
Jo widened his gray-blue eyes. “Why should I object?” he asked in a puzzled voice.
The one in white said: “Well, there has been this robbery — these murders. Only two days ago. There was a thorough search at the dock. I was asked many questions, myself. It seemed amusing.”
Jo Gar said: “And you were formerly with the Constabulary?”
They both smiled; then Jo Gar said: “No, there is no secrecy. I am not of the police — I rather dislike the American who heads the force.”
Ferraro said: “But Juan Arragon — he was one of your countrymen — a good friend—”
He paused, shrugged narrow shoulders. “At least, so I have heard,” he said. “Having been in the Constabulary—”
Jo Gar nodded. “It is not so,” he said quietly. “Juan Arragon was of the Manila police. He was always fighting me.”
Ferraro said: “Oh, so that was it, Señor?”
The Island detective nodded very slowly. The man in white looked towards the water; then his eyes came back to Jo’s again.