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.
For a minute, the road was empty, no traffic coming either way. The man with the riot gun said: “Keep your hands on that wheel, mug.”
Lennox obeyed, a thin smile twisting his lips for a moment. He knew that voice, knew it well. The man with the gun said to Spurck: “Toss the bag over, quick!”
With trembling fingers, Spurck obeyed. The driver of the coupé opened the bag, inspected the contents. “If these are marked, guy, it’s curtains for you. Okey, Charley.”
The man with the gun nodded. “Keep driving through Redondo and up through Palos Verdes till you come to where the road ends and another road goes off to the left and into Pedro. Drive out in the field at the end of the road. You’ll find your ham along the top of the cliff, tied up. We were set to push him over if you didn’t show up.” The coupé’s motor speeded up and they jerked away, swinging left at the next street.
Spruck moaned: “Fifty thousand!” He sounded out of breath.
Lennox put the Lincoln in gear. They went through Redondo, climbed the hill beyond and skirted the ocean until they came to the road’s end. Five minutes later, with the aid of a flashlight from the tool-box, Lennox found Wayborn. The actor was tied securely, lying flat on his back so close to the cliff’s edge that had he made any effort to free his bonds, he might have rolled off. Aside from chafed wrists and stiff ankles, he appeared none the worse for his experience, nor was he even thankful. “You might have gotten here sooner,” he told them, in a peevish voice. “I assure you that it was far from comfortable lying here, bound hand and foot.”
Spurck exploded. For five minutes he called the actor everything that he could think of. Wayborn listened silently, then climbed into the car. Lennox grinned to himself as he turned the Lincoln towards town.
5
Stan Braun, Spurck’s nephew, walked back and forth across his uncle’s office. He was slight, with black curly hair and long eyelashes. He looked like an actor and wasn’t. He was production manager for the studio.
“It’s strange,” he said, “that Lennox advised you to pay that money. I wish that you’d have asked me about it.” He pouted as a small boy pouts when his feelings have been hurt.
Spurck threw his hands wide. “Ask you? What good does asking you get me? Does it bring back Wayborn? Does it catch Price up with his schedule? It was you that wanted Wayborn — that ham. It was you that held up the schedule three days, changing the story. Maybe you would have got him back and saved us fifty thousand — you—”
Braun said, harshly: “At least I’d have marked the money. You say Lennox wouldn’t let you do that?”
Spurck’s face became crafty. “Which shows what you know. Me, I got a list of them bills from the bank. Every number. A copy I have made which Lennox takes. If we had marked the bills, they might have killed Wayborn when the picture is only half shot, to say nothing of retakes. Such ideas you’ve got.”
Braun’s voice was stubborn. “You could have hired private detectives.”
“A swell idea, when the barn door is closed and the horse is—”
“Anyhow,” his nephew’s voice rasped, “I’ve hired some. They’re waiting outside now.”
Abe Rollins and Dan Grogan came in. Grogan was big with a flat Irish face. Rollins was small, dark, with shifty eyes and too white teeth. He said: “Please tuh met yuh, Mr. Spurck. Braun’s been telling us about your trouble. Don’t worry, we’ll turn these mugs up.” He examined the two notes from the kidnapers. “I’d like to talk to Lennox,” he said. Spurck hesitated, then pressed one of the buttons at the side of his desk.
Bill came through the door and nodded slightly to Braun. His blue eyes narrowed as they went over the two detectives; then he looked at Spurck. “What’s eating you now, Sol?”
Spurck explained. As Lennox listened, his eyes got narrower. Then he looked at Rollins. “Okey. What do you want me to tell you?”
The man cleared his throat with importance. “Did you recognize either of the men in the Chevy?”
Lennox hesitated, then said: “No. Their faces were shadowed by their hats. I couldn’t have recognized my grandmother.”
“Yet you told Mr. Spurck that you knew who had Wayborn?”
Lennox said: “Yeah, I also told him that I’d try to get the fifty grand back, if he let me work it my way. I didn’t figure that he’d run in a couple of lame brains to mess things up.”
Rollins’ face got red, Grogan shifted his feet. “Don’t be too smart, fella,” Rollins warned. “You’re not in the clear on this thing, not by a damn’ sight.”
Lennox said: “Now isn’t that just too swell? You’ll be telling me next that I framed the whole play and got the fifty grand myself.”
“That’s not such a bad idea,” Rollins snapped. “Maybe you did. As I remember it, you advised Mr. Spurck to pay the money.”
“That’s right, Bill, you did.” Spurck sounded excited.
Lennox looked at him. “So you got me tagged as a kidnaper, too. Okey, Sol, get your own fifty grand back. I’m quitting, washed up.” He swung towards the door. Rollins’ voice stopped him.
“Not so fast, punk.” The detective’s hand was in his coat pocket, shoving the gun forward against the cloth.
Lennox shrugged. “You seem to be running the set.” He turned back into the room.
Spurck said: “Just a few questions, Bill. Don’t get sore.”
Rollins said: “Isn’t it true that you are always broke?”
“Ask Sol,” Lennox advised. “He’s my banker.”
“And isn’t it true that you told Mr. Spurck that you knew who had Wayborn?”
“What of it?”
“You may be asked to explain that statement at the D.A. office.” Rollins’ voice was threatening.
“Nerts!” Lennox found himself a cigarette and lit it.
“And isn’t it also true that you offered to drive the car to Redondo? I should say that you insisted that you be allowed to drive; yet you made no effort to follow the kidnapers after the money had been passed?”
Lennox shrugged. “Go right ahead, bright boy. Wrap me up in cellophane and deliver me at San Quentin; but while you’re talking, the mugs are spending Sol’s dough.” Spurck groaned, and Lennox laughed.
6
Nancy Hobbs said: “So you finally quit.” She said it in the tone of one who hears about a miracle and does not believe.
Lennox nodded. “Can you feature that? After all I’ve put up with from that fat slob he accuses me of kidnaping. There’s one of his funny-looking dicks outside this joint now. I’m getting important.”
She said: “Now’s your chance to get out of this town. No,” as he started to speak. “I know you’re broke, but I’ve still got a stake.”
He was silent and she read refusal in his silence. “Too proud to borrow from a woman?” There was a jeer in her voice. “You’ve done worse.”
He said: “It isn’t that, Nance. You’re a pal. I could borrow from you, but I can’t scram with this hanging over my head. I’ll get Sol’s fifty grand back; then I’ll take a powder; but I can’t go until I do. I said that I’d find that dough and I will.”
“Don’t be a fool.” Her voice was hoarse. “These boys play rough. If they get the idea that you’re gumming their game, they’ll plant you in a ditch.”
He looked at her with narrow eyes. “What boys, Nance? You seem to know a lot about this play.”
“I know plenty about this town that I don’t print in fan magazines,” she told him. “I get around.”