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.
“I’ll give you just two seconds to get up and recite or to get up and leave this room forever, John Darrow!” the Walrus was saying.
I stood up.
“What do you want me to recite about?” I asked, meekly.
The Walrus put up a noble struggle with herself, but I thought she’d bust before she finally conquered.
“Recite today’s poem,” she replied in a weak voice, looking very pale.
I was willing to do that. I can always wonder about things when I’m reciting poetry, particularly if it’s nice, inspiring poetry.
“ ‘O, wild west wind, thou breath of autumn’s being!’ ” I commenced, starting at the same time to wonder who could possibly have killed Old Man Carr.
“ ‘O, lift me like a wave, a leaf, a—’ Gorry!”
“A what?” the Walrus shrieked.
But I had dropped into my seat with a bang. I had just remembered whom I saw running away from Old Man Carr’s house the night before. It just made me dizzy.
I must have looked pale, for the Walrus shut her mouth just as she was going to say something unfriendly, and all the kids stopped giggling.
One of the girls was standing up to recite the poem, when the door opened.
A policeman came in. The room was deadly silent while he walked to the Walrus’ desk. They stood whispering for a minute. Then they turned and looked at me.
“John,” said the Walrus; “you will go with the officer!”
I got up and walked to the door, trying to wonder whose patch I had been caught in. The cop took my arm, rather too firmly, for I wasn’t trying to get away. We walked down the stairs and out the school door without saying anything. Then we walked down the street, while everybody turned to look at me. Gee, I felt cheap!
When we got to the Court House I was just about wilted, and the cop almost had to drag me up the steps. We went through the long, dark corridor until he stopped before a door and knocked at it. After a minute the key was turned and the door opened.
Then I knew it was all up, for there I saw young Judge Forest and I had been in his backyard the night before to see if I couldn’t find a potato barrel or an apple barrel, for I was rather short of supplies. He was sitting there looking serious and there were several cops and people, and among them was Alfred Burnet!
Well, I thought that was pretty mean! Here I had thought right along that Al was a friend of mine, and now he was testifying against me, just because he saw me out late the night before! And after he had said that he didn’t think I had done anything, too!
Well, they led me to a seat and I sat down hard. And then Judge Forest said:
“Good morning, Jack. How are you?”
And I answered him:
“Good morning, sir. How are you?”
I wanted to say, “How are your potatoes?” but I thought perhaps it would be better if I didn’t.
Well, the Judge pulled his chair up and leaned over, just as if he were going to offer me a cigar, and then he said:
“Jack, I want to ask you a few questions.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, and looked at the window, and wondered how long it would be before I saw it from the outside.
They couldn’t put me in the coop for over a month for just a couple of measly potatoes that I didn’t get anyhow.
“Jack,” said the Judge in a soft voice, “where were you last night?”
“I was in the woods,” I told him.
“You were... And what time did you come home?”
Well, I was scared, but I wanted to laugh at that. He was way off the track! I was in his backyard before I went up to the woods. So I answered:
“Pretty late. About midnight, I reckon.”
“You reckon? Aren’t you sure? Didn’t you look at your watch?”
“No, sir.”
“You’re sure you didn’t look at your watch?”
“No — that is, no, sir.”
I was a little rattled by the way he tried to catch me.
“Ah! You’re just a little bit in doubt... Now, Jack! Be careful! Are you sure you didn’t look at your watch?”
“Yes, sir... I haven’t got any,” I added, happening to think that might be a good argument.
Well, everybody laughed — except Al. He only smiled rather weakly. I thought he looked as if he was ashamed of himself when he had to face me. The Judge leaned closer to me and then he said, very softly:
“Well... we’ll say about midnight... And did you meet anybody on your way home?”
Well, Al was sitting there, looking at me, sort of white and determined, so I decided to be frank about it. Honesty pays — sometimes.
“Yes,” I said.
And then there was a great silence and everybody — except Al — leaned over as if they would fall off of their chairs, and the Judge whispered:
“Who?”
And I said, with a loud, ringing, frank voice:
“Alfred Burnet!”
You could have heard a pin drop. Everybody who was facing Al turned away. The Judge never took his eyes from me.
“Where did you meet him?” he asked.
And then it suddenly flashed over me. I got dizzy and cold all over. All I could see was Al’s white face and his big eyes looking at me. I’ll never forget those eyes!
The Judge grabbed hold of my knee and pressed it, and his mouth became hard and cruel.
“Answer me, boy!” he commanded. “Where did you see Mr. Burnet?”
“I... I can’t remember...”
I’d heard that that was all right to say in courtrooms, but I reckon I made a mistake, for Pat Ryan, the biggest cop on the force, came up and grabbed my shoulder and the Judge pressed my leg until I thought it was going to break.
“I saw you at one o’clock turning down from the Avenue,” said Pat. “I’ll make you remember!” He shook my shoulder. “And I’ll know if you’re telling the truth!”
“Where did you see Mr. Burnet?”
“In front of... of his house.”
Then the cop shook the upper part of me until I could hear my bones rattle, and the Judge almost squeezed the juice out of the lower part of me. And when they got tired Al said in a low voice:
“Tell the truth, Jackie boy.”
“Where did you see Mr. Burnet?”
“I saw him in front of — in front of Ol — Mr. Carr’s house.”
“What was he doing?”
“He was... running.”
“Away from the house?”
“Yes.”
“Did he act as though he was frightened?”
The voice sounded miles away.
“Yes.”
I could hear my own voice like a loud whisper.
There was a moment’s silence. Then the Judge started asking me more questions that I couldn’t see any sense in. And all the time I answered them, looking at Al’s white face and staring eyes.
Finally the Judge stood up. He picked something from the table and held it behind his back.
“One question more,” he said. “Did you ever see this before?”
And he pulled out his hand.
I was fairly sick. In his hand he held a German trench knife. It was one Al had brought home from the war. And it was covered with blood — new blood!
I nodded my head.
“Where did you see it?”
I looked at Al. He nodded his head slightly.
“In... in Al’s house.”
The Judge nodded to one of the policemen, who went to open the door.
“That will be all, Jack,” said the Judge, smiling and holding out his hand. “Thank you very much. You are free to go. Only don’t leave town before the trial... Good-bye.”
I stood up. I was almost bawling, but I wouldn’t have let them see it for the world.
“There’s one thing you didn’t ask me!” I said, shouting to keep back the tears. “And that’s whether I think Al murdered Old Man Carr or not!”