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.
Charlie Gay staggered out — and Kid Deth stepped behind him. The third bullet caught Gay in the left arm — it battered him off balance. He screamed.
“You — lyin’—”
Sarlow stood up and aimed his gun low at Nasser, squeezed the trigger steadily. The crash of his first shot and Gil Nasser’s fourth sounded simultaneously. The Kid’s body jerked; he swore through clenched teeth. Gil Nasser sagged downward.
Sarlow shoved his hat back and faced the men in the room from his corner.
“The riot squad’s outside,” he said hoarsely. “Now — you just keep still — all of you.”
Charlie Gay turned towards the bar, tried to grip it with his hands, failed. He went to his knees, swayed before the Kid for a second, pitched forward. He lay on the wooden floor, less than five feet from the motionless body of Gil Nasser.
The Kid leaned against the bar and took his left hand from his coat pocket. He said to Sarlow:
“Why in hell — didn’t you let him — keep shooting?”
Sarlow said: “Keep your mouth shut, you!”
The Kid grinned. He said softly: “Jeeze — lead hurts when it scrapes your ribs.”
He put his right hand down to his left side and pressed the ripped portion of his coat. Sarlow said in a steadier tone:
“One of you look at those two on the floor.”
A short, round-shouldered man kneeled beside Charlie Gay. He lifted a wrist, felt it. He said thickly:
“He’s — out.”
Kid Deth said: “I won’t miss him — a dam’ bit.” His voice was grim.
Sarlow spoke more quietly. “Kick that gun away from Nasser,” he ordered. “Call an ambulance — one of you.”
Gil Nasser groaned and tried to sit up. Sarlow said to Joey Deth, keeping his back against the wall in his corner:
“Slide your rod — across to me, Kid.”
Kid Deth smiled. “You’re lettin’ me hold it,” he said grimly.
Sarlow nodded. “I gave you a break,” he said. “I got Nasser. Slide it over—”
The Kid leaned down, felt pain from his left side, and slid the automatic across the floor. It stopped near the detective’s feet.
Gil Nasser sat up and held his stomach. He turned dull eyes towards Sarlow, who held his gun low. He said thickly:
“A dick — got me—”
Kid Deth looked at Nasser and smiled with his dead-gray eyes.
“When you get where Barney is — tell him you heard Bess scream — and kept working the Tommy,” he said in a low, hard voice. “He might have guts enough left — to hate you — for that.”
Nasser stared at Joey. He wiped his lips with the back of his right hand. He swayed a little.
“She didn’t send — you out—” he breathed weakly, “She put you wise—”
Kid Deth said softly, “Jeeze — you did get her. You did—”
Gil Nasser spoke in a whisper. “That rat — Lou Rands — takin’ the slot graft from Barney — waitin’ for the chance to turn him up—”
Sarlow swore softly. His eyes were on the Kid’s. Joey nodded his head.
“That’s one — truth,” he said simply.
Gil Nasser went down on the floor and lay on his stomach. The bartender was calling a number in a high-pitched voice. The Kid shivered a little. After a few seconds Nasser’s body relaxed.
Sarlow said: “We won’t need that ambulance — but let it come—”
Kid Deth touched his left side. “There’s me — and the black man, downstairs,” he said.
The detective stepped out from the corner, with his eyes narrowed and the gun held low.
“The rest of you — stay quiet,” he warned. “Come on, Kid.”
Kid Deth walked out from the bar. They went downstairs and to the street. Blackie was leaning against an iron rail holding his head. Sarlow patted him for a rod, didn’t find one. Blocks away there was the clang of an ambulance bell. Sarlow said:
“Was Lou workin’ with Barney Nasser, Kid?”
Kid Deth shrugged. “Maybe,” he replied. “I don’t know. But I didn’t get him, Sarlow. I’ve never done a job—”
Sarlow swore softly. “It’s a lousy racket, Kid,” he said. “You comin’ down — at four?”
The Kid’s eyes widened a little. “You turning me loose?” he asked.
The lean-faced detective listened to the louder clang of the ambulance gong, stared towards the entrance of the speakeasy. It was quiet inside.
“You come down — tomorrow, at four, Kid.”
His voice was tired. He was thinking of a man he’d thought was white — and who hadn’t been white. He was thinking of crooks who had used guns, and one who hadn’t. He was thinking of the Kid’s woman.
“Get going, Kid,” he said softly.
When the Kid climbed out of the taxi it was clear and cold. The photographers crowded up, and the chubby-faced Berman grinned at them.
“What’s all the shooting for?” he asked. “The Kid’s just down for a chat.”
They went inside and the Kid saw Lieutenant of Detectives Cardigan and Hank Sarlow standing side by side. Berman kept a smile on his face.
When they got inside Cardigan’s office the lieutenant of detectives said slowly:
“We got a slot machine racket charge against you, Kid. The D.A. wants to push it. He thinks we’ve got you nice.”
Berman passed the cigars. “Yeah,” he said. “The D.A. always thinks that. It’s what costs the taxpayers coin.”
The Kid said softly: “I’m quitting the racket, Cardigan. It’s lousy.”
Cardigan looked at Sarlow. The lean-faced detective said:
“Straight, Kid?”
Joey Deth nodded. “Jeeze — yes,” he said bitterly. “I’m through.”
Sarlow said: “Some rotten ones got hurt. And some others that were just pulled in. Maybe Lou Rands was one of those—”
He checked himself. Cardigan swore. Berman pulled on his cigar and frowned.
The Kid said: “I’m through. Make a fix and I’ll clear out — somewhere West—”
Sarlow and Berman looked at Cardigan. The lieutenant of detectives nodded a little.
“We might not get you on the other charges, Kid,” he said. “And some tough ones are done, out of the game. You gave us a break — and you showed up—”
The Kid was thinking of Bess Grote. Things might have been different, he was thinking. And he knew that Sarlow was thinking of Lou Rands.
“It’s a lousy racket — and I’m through,” he said again, slowly. “That’s straight.”
Cardigan said: “How about Detective Williams? A bullet from that lunch-wagon where Old Andy was found dead has got him in the hospital. He’ll live, but—”
Joey Deth cut in. His voice was emotionless.
“Old Andy was trying to get me. I didn’t work a rod, Cardigan. I guess you know that. Two mobs hated me a lot — and they got tipped to my talk with Barney Nasser. Maybe Barney wasn’t sure about Lou Rands — maybe he thought he was framing him. He tried to get him — and lost out. Rands wanted me, so he tried to frame me. Charlie Gay closed in and mobbed Rands out. I got loose. Bess was playing safe — trying to give me a chance to get in the clear. That’s the way I figure it. Charlie used her for his alibi, but she was trying to make things smooth with Gil. She told me she’d seen him. She didn’t send me out back — and Gil gave her the dose. That was what I wanted to know — and I figured to shove her killer out. But I guess—”
He stopped. There was a little silence. Berman said:
“The Kid’s through, Cardigan. I know when they’re through — you can feel it.”