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 Island detective smiled. “And you were formerly with the Island Constabulary,” he reminded. “You see with what little esteem the intruder has regarded us.”
The Third Officer said: “Perhaps it has been just a blundering affair — an attempt at quick robbery.”
Jo Gar nodded his head, and kept his brown face serious.
“That is very possible,” he agreed, and moved along the corridor towards his own cabin.
He was interrupted several times while he was adjusting things. It was not easy to think clearly, with so many people about. At ten o’clock the Third Officer came into the cabin, shutting the door behind him. He said very quietly:
“In matters such as this we always are suspicious of the cabin steward. We have questioned him at length. He states that you have tipped him generously, and that you had him come to you, on deck this evening, and warn you that Señor Ferraro had left his cabin and was going above for a bit of air before dining.”
The Third Officer paused. Jo Gar nodded, his brown face expressionless.
“It is so,” he said. “You wish to know the reason?”
The officer spread his hands in a little gesture, half of apology, half of assent. Jo said:
“I am weary of discussing Island matters. I wished to be alone. With the cabin steward advising me in time, I hoped to avoid Señor Ferraro for a few days. Unfortunately, I was unable to rise from the deck chair in time. So we met.”
The Third Officer frowned. Then he nodded his head, very slowly. He said:
“Thank you, Señor Gar.”
Jo smiled pleasantly. He said in a careless voice:
“You are keeping that imitation thing — that bar pin?”
The officer shook his head. “There was no loss to Señor Ferraro,” he said. “We shall make adjustment for any baggage damage. He asked me to leave the pin with him. He intends, I believe, to do some quiet investigating. He was with the Constabulary.”
Jo Gar nodded pleasantly. “That is quite the wisest thing to do, I think,” he said.
The Third Officer expressed regrets. The captain was disturbed. Such things seldom happened aboard the Cheyo Maru.
Jo Gar sighed. The Third Officer went from the cabin, turning at the door and smiling pleasantly. When he had gone Jo removed his palm beach suiting and got into clothes that were of dark silk. He waited a short time, went to the deck quickly, carrying a light blanket that bulked over his arm. His face held a tight smile as he approached the spot where his deck chair had been.
The night was warm and there was no moon. Most of the deck chairs had been collected and were being stacked together. Jo moved towards the deck steward, a tall Jap with eyes that were very black. He said:
“Please return my chair. I wish to rest a while on deck — I am sleepy and my cabin is stuffy.”
The deck steward bowed. Jo showed him the spot, one that was fairly secluded, aft of the second stack. When the chair had been set up he relaxed in it. The deck steward smiled and moved away.
After a short time Jo turned his head to one side and appeared to doze. The deck steward passed him, treading very softly. He halted, and through slitted eyes the Island detective saw that he was staring at him. Then the steward moved hurriedly forward.
Jo Gar lay motionless in the chair. There was the steady vibration of the engines, and the faint sound of steam reaching the air. From some spot below music reached the boat deck. Jo said very quietly:
“How calm the sea is!”
His lips held an ironical smile. He breathed evenly, closed his almond-shaped eyes.
Five minutes later there were three shots. The first one was a muffled, Maxim-silenced pop-cough. The second was smothered but had more sound. The third was a sharp crack sound.
Jo Gar, his small body tense, stepped out from behind the ventilator — caught sight of a black figure moving aft. He bent his body low, ran along the deck, his automatic gripped tightly in his right-hand fingers. From some spot forward a voice called with the shrill of the Jap tongue a word that sounded like:
“Hai!”
The dark figure ahead had reached the steps of the port companionway. It seemed almost to dive down them. Jo Gar slowed his pace, approached the steps carefully. When he reached the bottom of them he heard shouts. Men were coming up from the deck below.
He tried to get past them, but a short, chunky man caught him by the right arm and tried to get his gun away. Jo said sharply:
“Stop — a man came down here! I am after — him.”
He was breathing heavily. The chunky one wore a white uniform. He said in bad English:
“I... ship police. I see no one—”
Other men were coming up. Several of them were in dinner clothes. Jo Gar watched the Third Officer come into the group. He shook off the grip of the ship policeman, said grimly:
“I was on deck. Three shots were fired. A figure in black ran towards this companionway. I followed.”
A man in dinner clothes said: “I heard only two shots — from above.”
The Third Officer was beside Jo. He spoke in a soft tone.
“You are dressed in black, also, Señor Gar.”
Jo Gar nodded. “It is less conspicuous,” he replied. “I was on deck — and wished to be inconspicuous.”
The Third Officer said: “Why?”
Jo Gar raised his voice, but did not answer the question.
“And none of this group saw the man I was pursuing?” he asked.
None in the group had seen any person in black — but Jo. The Third Officer said:
“The shots were fired — at you?”
Jo Gar shook his head. “At my deck chair,” he said quietly. “I was some distance away.”
He read suspicion in the Third Officer’s eyes. The one in dinner clothes, who had spoken before, said grimly:
“You say there were three shots — I heard only two.”
Jo Gar shrugged. “The first was Maxim-silenced,” he replied. “If you will come to the boat deck—”
He broke off, turning. He went up the steps of the companionway, closely followed by the Third Officer. The others trailed along behind. When they reached the boat deck there were several other people. Two stood near the spot in which the steward had placed Jo’s chair.
The Third Officer used his flashlight; he muttered an exclamation as the beam fell across the chair. Jo Gar stood to one side, smiling a little. His eyes were on the brown mask that had rolled from the chair. He said:
“That is a mask that Sebastino, the Spaniard in Manila, made for me. It is a good likeness.”
He moved forward, lifted it. The others crowded around him. The plaster had been broken in two places. There was a hole in the left cheek — another in the forehead. The Island detective said very softly:
“You see — the one in black was an excellent shot. The third bullet—”
He leaned over the chair and moved the cloth of the palm beach coat he had wrapped around the light blanket. There was a hole in the left lapel. He said in a toneless voice:
“There is where it struck. It was like this—”
He adjusted the trousers and coat, rested the face mask above the coat, laying it with the right cheek against the canvas of the deck chair. He said quietly:
“Switch off the light — and move back here.”
The Third Officer switched off the flashlight. The group moved away from the chair, towards the vessel’s port rail. They stood looking towards the mask and the palm beach material. In the faint light it resembled Jo Gar — sleeping in the deck chair. The mask was very life-like.