The Black Lizard Big Book of Pulps
- Автор: Anderson Lars, Barr Randolph
- Год: 2007
- Язык: английский
- Год: Vintage Books
- ISBN: 978-0-307-28048-0
- Жанр: Криминальные детективы
Электронная книга - «The Black Lizard Big Book of Pulps». Краткое содержание книги:
Weighing in at over a thousand pages, containing over forty-seven stories and two novels, this book is big baby, bigger and more powerful than a freight train — a bullet couldn’t pass through it. Here are the best stories and every major writer who ever appeared in celebrated Pulps like Black Mask, Dime Detective, Detective Fiction Weekly, and more. These are the classic tales that created the genre and gave birth to hard-hitting detectives who smoke criminals like packs of cigarettes; sultry dames whose looks are as lethal as a dagger to the chest; and gin-soaked hideouts where conversations are just preludes to murder. This is crime fiction at its gritty best.
“While you was ridin’ — with Barney,” she finished.
The Kid looked at her for several seconds. He did some thinking and reached a decision. He leaned across the wet table surface.
“I’ll be right with you, Bess,” he said slowly and very softly. “You’d better be that way with me. Things are getting tight. I never used a rod in my life. I’ve been around killings — and dead guys. But I never knocked a guy out. You know that.”
She wasn’t afraid of him; he could see that in her eyes. And it worried him. Weeks ago she had been afraid of him. But she figured another way now.
“You never did for a guy — until tonight, maybe,” she said slowly.
He kicked back his chair suddenly, stood up. Her eyes stayed on his; they got hard. She made a quick movement with her right hand half out of sight, and he heard the lock snap in the gray bag she always carried. He stared down at her. She said slowly:
“Sit down, Kid — and keep your hands in sight.”
He pulled his chair up, sat down. He smiled at her. After a few seconds he spoke slowly.
“So you’re playing for Gil Nasser?”
She shook her head. “Don’t get rough, that’s all. I’m not playing for anyone. But I’m quitting you. And I wouldn’t start for Chi with you. You wouldn’t reach the station, Kid.”
Joey Deth tried not to shiver. The tone of her voice was so certain. He said very quietly:
“Barney Nasser sent word he wanted to see me. I didn’t want to see him. I’ve been working the racket across the river — and I put the slot machines in. I didn’t cut in on Barney. He was on this side — and in Jersey. But he got sore because I was takin’ coin out of Brooklyn. He wanted to buy me off. He wanted to talk.”
She just smiled. Kid Deth said, with his eyes on her tired blue ones:
“He picked me up in the coupe — and we drove over near the river. We talked on the way, but we didn’t say much. I got the idea he was going to boost the price he was offering. Maybe I’d have taken it and cleared, Bess.”
She said: “Maybe,” in a doubtful tone, and lighted a cigarette. She smiled at him.
He narrowed his dead-gray eyes on hers. He said in a toneless voice:
“I needed cigarettes. We don’t smoke the same brand, and there was talking to be done. I remembered a speak two squares up First Avenue. We figured it would be better not to drive. I got the cigarettes, and when I came back — Barney was dead across the wheel. I hadn’t heard a shot, but there are always trucks along First Avenue, and I’m used to back-fire racket.”
Bess Grote’s eyes closed momentarily. When she opened them she had stopped smiling.
“You’re lying, Kid,” she said softly. “You’re lying — and you’re in — for the works!”
He stiffened a little, and her right hand went to the bag. He shrugged.
“I saw the lunch-wagon, went down to question Old Andy. Rands came out and grabbed me. He took me back to the car, tried to frame me. He knocked me down.”
Kid Deth touched the bruised spot on his left temple. The girl watched him closely.
“Two guns came around the far side of the car — and opened on him. I didn’t see their faces — they didn’t come in close. They were medium sized, Bess. That’s — what happened.”
The girl finished her beer and nodded her head. She said slowly:
“That’s what you say, Kid. But I’m quittin’ you, just the same. The others may not think the same way.”
Joey Deth looked beyond the girl. A bell jangled outside. The waiter nodded to the Kid and went towards the speak-easy street door. The one who had been talking to himself was sleeping, his head pillowed in his arms. Kid Deth muttered to himself as he looked at the man — he reminded him of Barney Nasser.
“You always did — like Charlie Gay,” he said softly.
The girl’s mouth tightened. She shoved back her chair a little. There was rage in her blue eyes. It told the Kid a lot.
“You always did hate — Barney Nasser!” she snapped. “Only you never had the guts—”
She broke off as the waiter came into the back room. He reached Joey’s side.
“It’s that — tall, skinny dick!” he said. “I seen him through the peephole. The one that’s tied up with that Rands dick — his partner!”
The girl shoved back her chair and got to her feet. Her movements were quick, jerky. Kid Deth looked at her and chuckled without amusement in his tone.
“Going to — tip off Charlie?” he mocked.
The girl’s face was white. She swore at him. She said shakily:
“Listen — Kid — you’d better go out back — keep your rod handy—”
He shook his head. “I don’t use a rod — and you know it,” he cut in steadily.
Her eyes went to the waiter’s. He spoke in a thick tone.
“We’re all right — an’ I got to let this guy inside. I got to—”
Kid Deth narrowed his eyes on the blue, wide ones of Bess Grote.
“Sure,” he said. “Let him in. It’s Sarlow, Rands’ partner. They worked together most of the time. Let him in, Mac.”
The girl looked at Kid Deth. “You damn’ fool,” she said. “He’ll take you downtown. They’ll beat hell out of you.”
Joey smiled. “That’ll suit Charlie Gay fine, Bess,” he said. “But maybe not so well as if I went out the back way, alone.”
She turned towards him — took a step in his direction. The Kid shook his head.
“Don’t,” he warned. “I know what I’m up against. You wanted to quit a month ago — now’s the right time. If you want to give me a break, just because we went places and did—”
He stopped. She faced the waiter. Her voice was hard and certain now.
“Talk to the quiet clothes bull a little — before you let him in,” she said. “I’ll ease out the back way — and maybe the Kid’ll go with me.”
The waiter nodded. “He’s not dumb,” he said. “He’ll go.”
He went towards the speakeasy door. Bess Grote bent forward across the table. She said in a low voice:
“Gil’s sure you did for Barney. I don’t know what the bulls think about Rands’ kill. But what Gil got from Old Andy — the police can get. A crook and a copper are dead — and you’re sitting in between them, Kid.”
Kid Deth nodded. “And you lied to me about Gay,” he said quietly. “He didn’t go West — and he did hate Barney Nasser. And his mob—”
Her eyes held anger again. She spoke in a low, bitter tone.
“You can’t pull Charlie in this, Kid. I was with him until an hour ago. We went to a show. He never even—”
The voice of Sarlow reached them. It was a slow voice, almost a drawl. It was asking questions. The Kid spoke in a whisper.
“Better call — as you go out back, Bess. There might be a mistake—”
She turned away from him abruptly. But near the door she stopped. She half turned towards the wet-surfaced table.
“If you get a break — get clear, Kid,” she said in a whisper. “You’ve been lucky — too long—”
He lifted his right hand a little, made a small gesture. Then she was out of sight — she was moving towards the alley in back. Her footfalls died.
The Kid lighted a cigarette and smiled bitterly. He touched the bruised spot on his temple, finished his drink. He moved his chair back from the table. He remembered that this partner of the dead detective had shot down Eddie Birch, less than a year ago. Sarlow was a veteran. He was hard, cold. And his partner had been killed, murdered.
Joey said slowly, half aloud: “Another guy — looking for a chance — to frame me—”
There were footfalls in the hallway beyond the room. The outside door slammed. The waiter was whistling loudly. The Kid raised his eyes and looked into the dark eyes of Sarlow. There was a half smile on the dick’s face; his right hand was buried in the pocket of his coat — his left arm swung a little at his side. He leaned carelessly against a wall, ten feet from the Kid.