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.
They tramped down the dingy stairs in silence. At the front door of the station-house, she gave his arm a squeeze.
“Drive, darling?”
Duke grinned, shook his head. “You drive, Phyl. I want to think.” He crossed the sidewalk and opened the door of his wife’s coupe.
Phyllis slid under the wheel and Duke lolled beside her, his head resting against the top of the cushion. As his wife tooled the little car into the early-morning traffic, she laughed.
“I’ll bet you’re thinking what a smart little wife you have,” she chided. “I don’t know what you would do if I didn’t keep yanking you out of tight spots all the time, you big baby.”
Duke grinned. “It would be mighty dull, Phyl. You invariably yank me out of one spot, all right, but you drop me into the middle of a tighter one.”
“Meaning—”
Duke tried a smoke ring — and failed. “Darling,” he asked, “do you look good in black?”
“Hideous! Why?”
“Then you better watch your step unless you want to be wearing a widow’s garment.”
A tinge of terror crept into Phyllis’ voice. “What do you mean, Duke?”
“I mean that something’s up,” he told her drily. “Why do you suppose Egan turned me loose?”
She hesitated. “Why, the writ—”
“Nope, darling, wrong. Old Egan could beat that writ without half trying. All he had to do was to show to any magistrate that I was captured in a bank in the wee morning hours with a dead man and fifty thousand bucks in my car and—” he made an eloquent gesture with his hands.
“Then why did he turn you loose?” she protested.
Duke shrugged. “Egan tried to kill me; he wants me — dead. Perhaps it is just his personal animosity, perhaps it is something else.”
“You think he knows you had nothing to do with the bank robbery—”
Martindel sighed. “I’m not sure. Did you hear from Skuro or Nuene?”
“Sam Skuro called; he left a number where we could reach him in an emergency.” She fished a slip of paper out of a pocket and handed it to him.
“When was that?”
“Just before I left for the station.”
Duke flipped his cigarette stub into the street. “By the way, how did you know I was down at headquarters?”
“Somebody telephoned. They told me you were in a jam and needed an attorney — they should have said a nurse. I didn’t recognize the voice.” Anxiety crept into her tone. “You didn’t tell me why Egan turned you free, Duke.”
Duke pushed himself erect in his seat. “I can’t answer yet, except to say that there must be a damn good reason, otherwise he wouldn’t have done it. Don’t underestimate old Egan, he makes a fox look like a moron by comparison.” He reached up and adjusted the rear-view mirror so that he could see behind without turning his head.
“Don’t drive so fast, darling,” he suggested.
“Why—” Phyllis asked, startled. “I always drive—”
“Because you’re making it tough for those dog-faced flatfeet of Egan’s to stay on our tail.”
She whistled softly. “You mean they are following us, Duke? Shall I lose them?”
“Uh-uh. I know a better way. We don’t want them cluttering up our own apartment, so drive to Chelsea Street. I know a nice quiet family hotel. You remember it, darling; I took you there for a couple of days right after I gave you that nice mink coat.”
Phyllis shot him a malicious glance. “You know very well I never had a mink coat.”
Duke chuckled. “Pardon me. I got us confused with two other people.”
Phyllis Martindel brought the coupe to a stop before a small hotel that was sandwiched in between two austere apartment houses. A bellhop ran across the sidewalk and yanked open the door.
Duke handed him a dollar. “Put this bus in a safe place, son. We don’t want it for several hours; I need some sleep.” He left the hop in charge of the coupe and crossed the sidewalk. As he pushed open the door of the hotel, he glanced over his shoulder and saw a sedan drift slowly past.
“I don’t understand how you can talk of sleep at a time like this,” sighed his wife. “I never felt less like sleeping in my life.”
Duke chuckled. “Well, Phyl, keep it a secret then,” he whispered as they approached the desk.
After exchanging the usual greetings with the hotel clerk, Duke picked up the pen and wrote Mr. and Mrs. Duke Martindel in bold letters across the registry card. “And now,” he told the clerk, “we want a room with a southern exposure. I am very particular about rooms.”
The clerk picked up a key ring. He signaled to an assistant to take his place and then he circled the counter. “The only rooms we have with a southern exposure, Mr. Martindel, face on an alley at the rear,” he said doubtfully. “I’ll be glad to show you what we have.” He led the way to the elevator. As the lift started to rise, he told the operator to stop at the sixth floor.
Duke interrupted him. “That’s too high. My wife has a very poor heart; she likes something nearer the ground than that. Don’t you, darling?”
Phyllis gave him a quick grimace. “Of course,” she acquiesced.
At the clerk’s command, the elevator paused at the second floor and they got out. The clerk showed them a room on the southwest side.
“How do you like this, Mrs. Martindel?” he inquired.
Before Phyllis could reply, Duke cut in. “No, this won’t do. How about something on the other side of the hall?”
The clerk shrugged and led the way across the hall. As they passed through the door, Phyllis whispered: “Have you gone completely crazy?”
Duke winked. “Don’t forget, I was shot in the head.”
The next room seemed to please the detective, although it appeared identical with the other one. But the clerk was used to cranky customers, so he politely inquired if there was anything else they wanted.
Duke nodded. “Yes, I want perfect quiet.” He tapped his bandaged head significantly. “I had a slight accident and I intend to get a little rest. Please put a. Do Not Disturb sign on the door and a plug in the phone. Under no circumstances do I wish to be bothered. If there are any visitors or phone messages, kindly get the name or numbers. Is that plain?”
“Certainly, sir,” agreed the clerk. “I will see that you are not interrupted.”
Duke handed him a bill. “Since we had no baggage, I will pay in advance for the room. Put the receipt in my mail box.” He dismissed the clerk with a wave of his hand.
As the door closed, Phyllis sank on the bed and made a weary little gesture with her hands. “Crazy! Crazy as a loon! A murder charge hanging over your head, the police trying to kill you and you come to a respectable hotel and act like an old maid on her honeymoon.”
“No such thing,” he corrected her, “as an old maid on a honeymoon.”
“Be serious, Duke,” Phyllis begged. “What in the world made you do this? Why, you said yourself that the police were following you. They will be sitting down in the street waiting for you.”
“Exactly, darling. That’s what I’m counting on. Do you know why I didn’t take that room across the hall? Well, this room has a fire escape,
the other did not. I am very timid about fires, you know.”
Phyllis grimaced. “Oh, you fool! I see it now. You went to all the trouble of renting this room and telling those monstrous lies, just to sneak out of here and lose the police. I could have lost them in five minutes.”
He kissed her. “Remarkable, Watson! But I don’t want to lose them; I want them sitting out front and I want head-quarters to believe I’m holed up here asleep. You can bet your sweet little life that right this very minute, a scared desk-clerk is repeating my orders to a couple of Egan’s bloodhounds.”