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.
“Your mother’s had an accident, Darlene!” I gasped out. “Call a doctor!”
Then you died, Rhea. You died and I felt an exultation.
Chapter Four
Another Is Claimed
Thinking back now, I can recognize that the disturbing change in Darlene showed itself the very first moment she learned her mother was dead.
I can bring back that moment very clearly, Rhea. Darlene had finished telephoning for the doctor. Hurrying back, she found me holding you in my arms.
I recall vividly that as she stood there she gazed wide-eyed not at her dead mother, but at me.
I made quite a convincing picture of a grief-stunned husband, I’m sure, Rhea, as I knelt there on the floor.
That was the way the Fraziers found me when they hurried in a few minutes later. I would not permit them to move you until after Dr. Kerwin arrived and pronounced you dead. I watched the good doctor solemnly filling out the death certificate — writing under the words Cause of Death his conclusion, Accidental fall.
The Fraziers and the other neighbors who came in all deplored the accident so sincerely, Rhea. “Such a terrible shame,” they said.
But questions were buzzing in their minds — not about me, but about you, Rhea — questions none of them dared put into words. Finally Marie Frazier worked up the courage to ask, “How did it happen that Rhea was up and dressed, John?”
“But why shouldn’t she be?” I said, sounding as if I hadn’t the faintest idea what she was implying. “Naturally she had just gotten up to make breakfast for me.”
“Poor John,” Marie murmured. “You’re so dazed you haven’t even noticed what time it is. Only four o’clock in the morning now, and it happened about two hours ago.”
I was the perfect picture of an unsuspecting husband, Rhea. Our friends privately wagged their heads. Not that they had any idea themselves of what an evil woman you really had been. But they did puzzle over the circumstances of that tragic little accident — never doubting that it was an accident — and marveled that I apparently could see nothing at all questionable about it.
It fell to the lot of the minister of our church, Matthew Parker, to break the disillusioning “news” to me.
“John — Darlene,” he said gently. “I’m sure you must appreciate the fact that in a sudden death of this kind certain doubts inevitably arise and must be cleared away. For your own peace of mind, I feel I must explain the apparent cause for Rhea’s fatal fall. When Marie Frazier and my wife were tidying up Rhea’s room today they found — brace yourself, John — they found a bottle of whiskey hidden on a closet shelf.”
I did not laugh in his solemn face, Rhea. Nor did I put up a pretense that this of course explained everything. Instead I simply stared at our old friend Matthew Parker and said flatly, “I don’t believe it.”
He insisted very gravely, “I’m afraid it’s true, John. We can’t help believing that Rhea had a secret addiction to alcohol. That accounts for her fall — she had over-imbibed. Probably she had dressed in order to sneak out for another bottle. I’m sincerely sorry, John, but at least this does clear up certain puzzling details.”
“Rhea was too sweet, too good,” I said. “I can’t believe it of her. I can’t.”
“Bless your trusting heart, John,” Matthew Parker said. “At least you may rest assured that the Fraziers and the Parkers won’t breathe a word of this.”
After he had gone I said to Darlene, “I’ll never believe it. Never let it change your own feeling for your mother, Darlene.”
She smiled at me. “Mother and I always understood each other.”
That was the first of Darlene’s disturbing cryptic remarks, Rhea — the first hint of evil forces rising in her as they had risen to claim you. But at that time I was more concerned with other dangers. For example — Jennings.
He came to the door soon after the minister had left, a small man with sharp, darting eyes and a notebook. I put on a disturbed and puzzled look when he announced he was from police headquarters.
“The homicide law requires us to look at every case of violent death, including accidents, Mr. Long,” Jennings began. “So this is just routine. Except for one angle. How-come your wife was acquainted with Bruce Dallas?”
“Bruce Dallas?” I echoed. “Who’s he?”
Jennings explained to me briefly.
I kept a puzzled frown on my face. “And what makes you imagine my wife was acquainted like that?”
Jennings said slowly, “I’ve heard a report on the grapevine that she was seen once or twice with him at a place called the Clover Club.”
“It’s incredible,” I said. “This man — what’s his name, Dallas? — may have been seen there with a woman resembling my wife, but it couldn’t possibly have been Rhea.”
He rose, apologizing for having bothered me. I smiled at his back as he left. He had come with a vague suspicion of murder — but the suspicion pointed at Bruce Dallas, not at me. That was his reason, of course, for later jockeying Dallas into your funeral service — to watch his reactions as the flames consumed you.
So then, Rhea, nothing was left but the ceremonies of cremating you, and after that the tragic little event would begin fading from all our minds.
It would have done so, Rhea, except for Darlene.
Every night when I came home from work, dreading the moment as profoundly as I had once welcomed it, you met me. It was becoming such a hair-trigger thing, Rhea, that I was fast reaching the point where I could no longer endure it.
But what could I do? Order Darlene out of the house?
No, I must stay and cope with it. I must come home every evening to hear your greeting — “Welcome home, Johnny!” — and to find a duplicate of you waiting for me in the kitchen.
It was getting to be more than my shaken nerves would stand. It was becoming a nightmare, Rhea. But then came even more — the worst thing of all — the proof that your heritage of evil was now claiming Darlene.
As before, the whole house was silent. For a while I lay listening in a silent torment of tension. Then, almost as in a dream, telling myself that somehow, somehow this insufferable situation must be ended, I rose, opened the door.
A light had been left burning in Darlene’s closet. Stunned by the repetition of this incident, I reached in to turn it out — and then I saw the bottle.
Staring at that bottle, I realized it stood hidden at almost the same spot where you had hidden yours. Darlene had been sneaking drinks exactly as you had done, for only a few ounces of whiskey remained in it. Then I turned my stinging eyes to Darlene’s bed.
Like your bed on that other night of terrifying discovery, it was empty.
Chapter Five
Paid in Full
The next evening was also much like another I had had with you, Rhea — casual and commonplace on the surface, while underneath a grim plan was being acted out.
Darlene and I sat together in the living room, both reading. I could sense the impatience in her and feel her covert glances. At the usual time and in my usual way I said, “I’m turning in now, Darlene. Good night.”
She answered, “Good night, Johnny; I’ll go up in a minute.”
I could feel her senses quickening as I went up the stairs. I closed and locked my door and lay on the bed without undressing. Presently I heard Darlene’s sounds on the stairs, then in the room next to mine. Quiet followed.
Then, just as it had occurred with you, Rhea, I heard a motion of Darlene’s bed as she rose. Next a squeaking sound from the cork of her hidden bottle. A few more moments of quiet followed while she dressed. After that she left her room.