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.
“Hello, Deth,” he said in a casual tone. “Just drinking alone?”
Joey Deth nodded. “Just drinking alone,” he replied slowly. “How’re things, Sarlow?”
There was a flicker of light in the black color of the detective’s eyes. But he kept smiling.
“Not so good, Kid,” he said softly. “They — got Lou.”
Joey Deth parted his lips and widened his eyes. He swore softly and said in a surprised tone:
“You mean — Lou Rands — your sidekick?”
Sarlow’s lean body twitched. His eyes looked hurt. He lifted his left hand and took off his hat. He had gray hair; it was rumpled. A few locks were sticking damply to his forehead. His thin face was white.
“Yeah,” he said slowly. “Lou Rands.”
Kid Deth said: “Hell — I’m sorry. Jeeze — that’s tough, Sarlow.”
Sarlow half closed his eyes. “Think so?” he said in a strange tone.
Joey Deth nodded a little. “I guess Rands was all right,” he said slowly. “He tagged me a lot, but I guess—”
Sarlow looked at the Kid’s hands — they rested on the surface of the table. He took his right hand from the pocket, held his gun low.
“Get up, Kid,” he said slowly. “I got a cab outside.”
Kid Deth shrugged his shoulders. He said very softly:
“I didn’t get him, Sarlow. I’m givin’ it to you straight.”
Sarlow straightened his lean body. “You’ve been giving things straight — for a long time, Kid,” he said in a hard voice. “And squirming loose.”
Joey Deth got up. He shook his head. “Two guns got him, Sarlow,” he said. “I know how you feel — he was your side-kick. I know how you think. But it’s wrong. And he tried—”
He checked himself, thinking of the gun in Sarlow’s grip. No use telling the dick that his partner had tried to frame him.
“You’ve been lucky — for a long time, Kid.” Sarlow’s voice was almost toneless. “We gave you rope. Lou figured you’d get the dose from the inside. But you were getting coin, across the river. Barney Nasser didn’t like that. He got careless — and you gave him the works. Then Lou grabbed you—”
Kid Deth kept his eyes on the dark ones of Sarlow. He shook his head.
“I didn’t get Barney,” he said. “I’m giving it to you straight—”
His words died; Sarlow’s body jerked as the first shot sounded. It came from somewhere out back. There was a second’s pause — then the scream reached them. It was a woman’s scream — short and high pitched. Then the gun clattered. It beat a staccato song, died abruptly. There were no more screams.
Sarlow, his body tense, kept his eyes on the Kid. When the waiter came into the room he got his back to the wall and moved his gun a little.
“Get over there — by Deth!” he ordered.
McLean walked over and stood beside the Kid. His eyes were wide and he rubbed the material of his trousers with the fingers of his right hand. The man across the room muttered to himself and rolled his head. Sarlow said:
“Who — got clear, when I came in?”
The Kid got his left hand fingers on the back of the chair from which he had risen. His face was very white. There was no color in his thin lips.
Sarlow smiled. “Whoever it was — they got the long dose,” he said. “Tommy gun. Sounded like a frail, Kid. Was she yours?”
Kid Deth closed his eyes and tried not to rock from side to side. One thought was beating into his brain — Bess had screamed after the first shot. And then the Tommy had been turned loose. It had been no mistake.
Sarlow made a chuckling sound. “Cheer up, Kid,” he said. “Maybe it was a miss — maybe she got clear.”
Joey drew in his breath sharply. At his side the waiter muttered to himself.
“We oughta — get out there — we oughta—”
Kid Deth tried to smile. “Like hell we oughta!” he breathed. “It’s a frame—”
Sarlow stopped smiling and moved his gun hand a little.
“That yelp sounded as if someone was hurt,” he said grimly. “Want to go out — and look around, Kid?”
Joey shook his head. He took his left hand away from the back of the chair. He didn’t speak. Sarlow listened for several seconds. He looked at the waiter.
“A blackjack hurts,” he said slowly. “Who went out of here — when I came in?”
McLean wet his lips with the tip of his tongue. He shook his head.
“The Kid — was alone,” he breathed.
Sarlow swore. His eyes flickered to Joey Deth’s; they held hate. He looked at the waiter again.
“You tried to stall for time,” he said. “And the Kid waited for me to come in. Who went out back — and got that dose?”
The Kid said softly: “Mac ain’t in this, Sarlow. He’s — all right.”
The lean detective swore at him. “Getting big hearted, eh?” he mocked. “But you look sick, Kid.”
A door slammed beyond the room, out back. The three men who were standing stood motionless. The Kid and the waiter stared towards the darkness beyond the room. A narrow corridor ran to the rear door. Sound came from it now — the sound of a body falling, not too heavily.
Joey said fiercely: “Listen — let Mac go out there, Sarlow! He’ll be all right—”
The waiter took a step forward, but the lean-faced detective moved his gun arm swiftly.
“You — stick where you are — both of you!” he gritted.
Joey Deth turned his twisted face away from Sarlow. The detective changed his position slightly — he was listening to a faint sound that reached the room. It might have been the sound of a human trying to drag along the wooden floor. It stopped. A half-sobbing voice came faintly into the room.
“Joey—”
Kid Deth swayed a little, in front of the partner of Lou Rands. His lips were twitching. Bess Grote called again. Her voice was very weak.
“Kid — Deth—”
The Kid said fiercely: “Let me — go out there, Sarlow — they got her—”
Sarlow shook his head. “And you got Lou,” he said grimly. “And you lied — like you’ve always lied—”
There was no more sound from the dark corridor. McLean said in a husky voice:
“You’re killing — that woman, Sarlow. You can’t keep us in here—”
The detective looked at the Kid. “What did you send her out back for?” he said softly. “Maybe you — wanted her — to get that dose, Deth!”
Kid Deth smiled at the detective. It was a peculiar, tight-lipped smile. He nodded his head.
“Sure,” he replied, and his voice was strangely calm. “Sure — anything you say, Sarlow. But I’m going out there, see? And if you squeeze lead—”
He broke off, walked towards the door. His movements were swift, steady. He read indecision in Sarlow’s eyes. The gun muzzle came up a little. Then he saw the veins of the detective’s right wrist stand out — he was squeezing the trigger—
The Kid sprang at Sarlow — swinging sideways and downward with his left arm. The gun crashed — the bullet seared Deth’s right thigh. Sarlow went back under his weight, went off balance. McLean was on him now — the two of them battered him to the floor. The Kid twisted the gun from his grip.
“Outside, Mac—” he breathed heavily, getting to his feet. “Bring her — in here—”
Sarlow pulled himself to his knees and swore at Joey.
“And I held — back on you!” he muttered thickly. “I should have—”