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.
Half an hour later the dagger was washed clean, the gloves were destroyed, and Irene was back in her room.
In the morning she told her band singly of Le Loup’s killing and warned them to scatter.
It was noon when Le Loup, sullen and dishevelled, came from his room. “Where are the others?” he demanded abruptly.
“Pah!” Irene exclaimed in disgust. “The cowards have run! They are fools. This is the safest place in the city — in the country, for that matter. What detective would look for a murderer within a hundred yards of the murder?”
Le Loup winced at the word murderer. He seemed to have lost some of his bravado. “What about this detective Duret? Joe was telling me something of him.”
Irene laughed lightly. “Mon brave, you are nervous this morning. Does Le Loup fear Duret? Come have a drink!”
“I fear no one!” Le Loup blustered. “But they tell me—”
“I will tell you of Duret,” Irene said quickly. “He is gun-shy. There was an episode years ago. Duret killed an innocent. Since that day he has been gun-shy. When he gets into a tight corner, he will draw his pistol, but he will hesitate and hold his fire. I tell you Duret is not to be feared. He is ambitious. He has been on homicides for three years now. When he can, Duret will work alone to gather all the glory. And other detectives do not care about working with him because in a corner, he is uncertain. Why are you afraid? Last night you were so strong — so heroic.”
Le Loup’s face broke into a smirk. Like a mask removed, the fear was struck from his countenance.
“But come,” Irene said. “I must watch at the windows so that if Duret should come you will have time to hide.”
Irene left Le Loup with a bottle of gin and spent the afternoon moving between the windows on St. Amable and St. Paul streets.
As five o’clock drew near Irene’s vigilance increased. The body of the sailor, she knew, must have been discovered at seven o’clock when Dionne’s warehouse was opened. At nine it would have been placed in the hands of the coroner. Before that time the enterprising Duret would be engaged on the case. Duret and the coroner would discover the dust in and about the dead man’s wound. Dr. Leclaire the famous medicin-legiste, would take the dust to his laboratory. Some hours later he would pronounce the dust to be snuff.
Duret’s theory would be that the murderer was addicted to snuff. But then the clever Leclaire would point out that from the depth and width of the wound it was obvious that the weapon was too large to be a clasp knife, therefore it was improbable that the knife was carried in a pocket. Leclaire would offer the suggestion that the murder was committed in some place where there was a large quantity of snuff, and that later the body was carried to the passage where it was found. From that point it would be a matter of minutes until Duret appeared at the old snuff factory. And Irene knew that Duret would make his first investigation of the old stone house alone.
It would have been simpler for Irene to have lured Duret to the house with a telephone call notifying him of the whereabouts of Le Loup. But then Duret would have descended on the place in force.
At twenty minutes to six Irene’s heart quickened as she glimpsed the familiar figure of the man who had killed her father. The detective was on the opposite side of St. Paul Street. A shadow crossed Irene’s face as she saw Duret walk casually down the block without a side glance. In a moment he had passed beyond her vision and Irene regretted that she had not made some signal to attract him. But then he might have called for help before entering the place.
When Duret disappeared, Irene crossed the building and watched through the perforations of a rusty iron shutter on St. Amable Street.
In a few minutes the detective loomed into sight. Irene’s face glowed. Duret had stopped. A bell jangled noisily.
“Le Loup! Le Loup!” Irene called quickly,
“to the cellar and into the tunnel! Duret has come. He is alone! You can work the trap?”
“Yes,” Le Loup answered, as he stole down the stairs.
The bell rang again. Irene descended the stairs and opened the street door. Duret, tall, handsome, well-fed, stood upon the threshold. Irene’s eyes met his. She swayed uncertainly for an instant while a little room fetid with the smell of drying clothes swam before her eyes. She saw Armand her father limp into that room, his foot dripping blood. She saw this man who stood before her burst in and grapple with her father. She heard again the screams of her mother. Her ears seemed to burst with the crash of gunfire. Then her nostrils were drenched with the stench of powder and the room was dark.
As though through a mist she saw Duret again. She recovered with a start.
Duret was gripping her arm; he was searching deep into her eyes. He relinquished his hold slowly. “Pardon, madame, I thought you were about to faint.”
Irene smiled weakly. “You remind me of my father!” she said.
Duret bowed gravely and said nothing.
“What do you wish. It cannot be that you want one of my rooms,” Irene said, glancing significantly at Duret’s well-fitting clothes.
“No, madame, I came to look over this factory, but the doors are locked. I thought perhaps there might be an entrance from your hall.”
“There is,” Irene admitted readily, “and it is open because I have permission to use the cellar beneath to store my lodgers’ boxes. You have seen the agent?”
“Of course, madame.”
“Then come in.”
Irene opened the door that led into the old snuff factory. Duret stepped into the large room. His eyes searched into dark corners and satisfaction glowed on his face. He turned abruptly to Irene. “I understood the place has not been used for some time, yet upon the floor I see signs of recent occupancy.”
“It is my lodgers, m’sieu. Some of them have been with me for years and they keep their boxes in the cellar. They have to pass through here to reach the cellar stairs.”
“What do your lodgers do, madame?”
“They work on the docks — that is, all but one!” Irene leaned toward Duret and her voice grew guarded. “That one is a strange fellow. I have considered mentioning the matter to the police. He has been with me only a week. He does not work and he does not leave the house — at least during the day. Today, whenever the bell rang, he went to the cellar before I had time to open the door. Do you think I should report him to the police, m’sieu?”
Duret looked shrewdly into Irene’s eyes. She returned his gaze evenly.
“Listen, madame, I come from the police. Where is this fellow now?”
“You are a detective?” Irene asked with awe in her voice. “Come, m’sieu, I will show you. He went down the cellar as I came to answer your ring.”
Irene led the detective across the snuff factory to the cellar door. She descended the stairs boldly. Duret thought for a second that perhaps he should call for assistance. But this woman went so coolly, he drew his revolver and flashlight and followed.
They saw no one in the cellar. Duret peered behind rubbish-filled packing cases and small trunks. The detective noticed a piece of strange mechanism. He was about to speak of it when Irene gestured toward a mark on the flagged floor. “See, m’sieu, is that not a footprint?”
Duret stepped forward. He reached the spot on the floor Irene had indicated. He turned suddenly as he heard a subdued laugh behind him. Then the floor dropped beneath his feet and Duret was plunging through space.