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.
“T. McGuirk Steals a Diamond,” the first of fourteen McGuirk tales written for Black Mask, was published in the December 1922 issue.
“I deman’ to be let go!” said T. McGuirk, the quaintest character in the underworld, when the pawnbroker’s strong-arm man had searched him in vain for the missing diamond. You’ll enjoy the doings of T. McGuirk because he has a system all his own.
T. McGuirk leaned forward.
“What I’m sayin’ is — I gotta steal a diamond!”
He half whispered the information, gazing about him apprehensively.
Lefty Lannigan’s amusement was wholly undisguised.
“You got to — what?”
T. McGuirk’s injured feelings showed in the flush that spread under his four-day stubble of beard. A hurt look came into his pale, watery eyes.
“What you laffin’ at? I said I gotta steal a diamond. I need a diamond, wery bad.”
The gunman surveyed his friend ironically.
“Oh you do? A real diamond? What for?”
T. McGuirk shook his head.
“That’s my business,” he stated with dignity. “I gotta girl an’ I need a diamond. I ain’t sayin’ nothin’ more.”
“You don’t need to,” commented Mr. Lannigan.
“An’ so I come to you,” T. McGuirk added gravely, “to steer me into somebody where I can steal a diamond.”
Mr. Lannigan pondered.
“You’re not kiddin’? You’re serious?”
“Wery serious,” T. McGuirk stated succinctly.
“Well, let’s see. You’re goin’ to do the job alone?”
T. McGuirk nodded.
The gunman, after a moment of grave consideration, suggested Stone and Blackstone, leading Fifth Avenue jewelers.
“They got some real good diamonds,” he declared. “You might try them.”
But T. McGuirk shook his head vehemently.
“You ain’t got no sense. I ain’t lookin’ for no job like that. Ain’t you acquainted with no crook what’s got a diamond to sell?”
Mr. Lannigan folded his arms, staring loftily down at T. McGuirk’s wizened form.
“Want me to steer you into a pal of mine so you can lift a sparkler? You’re a fine—”
“I thought you might have a enemy,” T. McGuirk explained meekly. “A fence or somethin’ that maybe done you a dirty deal. If he’s got a unset diamond to sell I’m a-goin’ to steal it off’n him. See?”
An idea came to Lefty Lannigan — a most amusing idea, for he chuckled.
“I got just the man,” he declared heartily.
He thumped T. McGuirk on the back so vigorously that the little man’s head seemed nearly to snap off.
“Just the man, Timothy. Ever heard of Ike Gluckstein?”
T. McGuirk had, vaguely. Gluckstein was a “fence” of unusually shady reputation even among those of the underworld with whom he did business.
T. McGuirk nodded. Mr. Lannigan went on:
“You try him. Go to his pawnshop — here, I’ll write down the address — an’ tell him you want to buy an unset sparkler. He’s got some wonders. Mention my name an’ he’ll sit up an’ take notice. He’ll show you some, an’ then—” Mr. Lannigan shrugged.
What would happen then obviously was past his understanding.
“Wery good idea,” assented T. McGuirk. “Gimme the place where he is.”
He pocketed the slip of paper with thanks.
“I’ll see Mr. Gluckstein right at once, personally. Wery good idea.”
A twinge of conscience overtook Mr. Lannigan. T. McGuirk was so trusting, and so obviously in earnest.
“You got a gun, Timothy?”
T. McGuirk shook his head emphatically.
“I’m a peaceable man. I don’t never use no rewolwers.”
He offered his hand, but still his friend hesitated.
“Hadn’t we better talk it over, Timothy? I s’pose you got a plan? You know what you’re doin’?”
“A plan? Sure I got a plan. I’m a-goin’ to steal a diamond. I gotta have a diamond, right away.”
Mr. Lannigan shrugged, discharging himself from further responsibility.
“Go to it then. But I warn you, Ike’s a bad guy. You let him catch you tryin’ to make away with a sparkler an’ he’ll wring your neck. If you pull anything queer make sure you get away with it.”
T. McGuirk assented gratefully.
“Wery good idea, in-deed.”
He shook hands and smiled his thanks.
Lefty Lannigan stood staring after him dubiously as he darted like a jackrabbit across the busy street, disappearing behind a passing stream of taxis.
The pawnshop of Isaac Gluckstein stood on an unobtrusive street of New York’s Lower East Side. Mr. Gluckstein was closing up for the evening, preparing for his more serious and much more profitable business, most of which was transacted in a back room with access to an alley alongside the building, when T. McGuirk appeared through the front entrance. The pawnbroker paused in the act of opening his safe and surveyed his visitor. What he saw was some five feet three of rags and filth — an extraordinarily inoffensive-looking little man who stood just over the threshold and smiled ingratiatingly.
Mr. Gluckstein grunted with contempt and turned back to the safe; T. McGuirk padded forward with complete confidence.
“You got a diamond you wanta sell me, Mr. Gluckstein?”
The pawnbroker looked up again, staring.
T. McGuirk’s smile widened, exposing an uneven row of tobacco-stained teeth.
“Lefty Lannigan sent me. He said you would sell me a diamond.”
At this mention of the well-known gunman the pawnbroker seemed somewhat impressed.
“You say it, Lefty’s a friend of yours?” he asked incredulously.
T. McGuirk nodded briefly.
“He sent you to me?”
Another nod.
“To buy a diamond?” Mr. Gluckstein’s incredulity was melting.
Still another nod.
The pawnbroker smiled — quite as ingratiating a smile as T. McGuirk’s.
“You could buy a diamond from me,” he stated. “You’ve got the money, my friend?”
T. McGuirk frowned.
“I got plenty money. I ain’t lookin’ for no credit — cash, that’s me.”
Mr. Gluckstein rubbed his hands together — a slight, wholly instinctive gesture. Obviously he had heard of the adage that appearances are deceiving. He surveyed this cash customer with a new respect.
“You could buy from me a very fine diamond, my friend — and cheap.” Mr. Gluckstein leaned forward confidentially and lowered his voice. “Lefty Lannigan did it to you a favor. He knows I got stones — at a price. You couldn’t beat my prices, young man.”
“Wery good,” agreed T. McGuirk without enthusiasm. “Let’s see some. About two carats — unset.”
The pawnbroker stared again.
“An unset stone? I thought you wanted it a nice diamond ring — maybe for a lady. I got here many fine unredeemed pledges—”
T. McGuirk shook his head contemptuously.
“Me skirt’s wery partic’lar. I gotta get a unset stone an’ have it set special. Besides—”
T. McGuirk’s eyes gleamed craftily. He raised himself on his toes to reach up nearer Mr. Gluckstein over the counter.
“Besides, I wants a real bargain. Lefty said you had some partic’lar sparklers — unset — an’ I could buy one cheap an’ no questions asked.”
It was a stupendously complicated speech for T. McGuirk. He panted a little from the exertion of it.