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.
“I see,” said Sarah, staring intently at Mr. Hecker, “and of course, there’s the fact, too, Mr. Hecker, that if we steal back this necklace for you—”
“Mrs. Watson! I beg you — not steal — recover!”
“Steal,” said Sarah, firmly. “If we steal back this necklace for you, Mr. Hecker, it will cost you only two hundred dollars, plus expenses, whereas, if you were to have an imitation made, it would cost you two thousand dollars. Eh, Mr. Hecker?”
“Quite,” said Mr. Hecker. “I have considered that angle, naturally. A banker always considers...”
“Let’s get down to brass tacks,” said Sarah. “What’s the young lady’s name? What’s she look like? Where is this place that you know she’ll be this evening? How have you any guarantee that she’ll have the necklace with her?”
“She will be on the eight o’clock train to Chicago tonight. She has lower berth number 3, car Number 654,” said Mr. Hecker. “I am sure she will have the necklace with her, because I have information that she has quit the theatrical production with which she was connected and has... ah... closed her books definitely in this city.”
“Mr. Hecker,” said Sarah, “did you get all that data yourself?”
“I did.”
“You’d make a good detective,” said Sarah. “What’s the young female’s name?”
Mr. Hecker’s thin lips writhed a trifle as though he were about to swallow a dose of astringent. He said: “Her name is Dolores Flores.”
“That describes her,” said Sarah. “Now, if you’ll advance some expense money, Mr. Hecker, about two hundred dollars to start with, we’ll get ready to steal your necklace.”
Sarah Watson and Ben Todd stepped out of the bank and into the sunshine. Sarah said: “You’ve got two hundred dollars in your pants, Bennie, and all afternoon. You might get the tickets. Be sure to get in Car 654, and be sure you get me a lower, young feller. You might drop my ticket at the office. Then you might check up on this Dolores Flores female and make sure she is taking that train. You might get a look at her, if you can, but not too long a look, Bennie. I know men! Then you might interview somebody that knows jewels and find out what the Gautier necklace looks like and how much the real one is worth, and then you might...”
“Listen, slave driver,” said Ben Todd, “after I do all that, there won’t be any then. What are you doing in the way of work yourself this afternoon, old girl?”
“Bennie,” said Sarah solemnly, “I’m going to a tea — a Republican tea.”
“Republican? I thought you were a Democrat?”
“What if I am? It ain’t branded on my forehead, is it? I’m going to a Republican tea, Bennie, because Mrs. Adolph A. Hecker is giving the tea, in her own apartment.
“Listen, you old wench! You’re not beginning your double-crossing tricks already?”
“Fiddlesticks! I’m merely interested to see the woman who could bear Adolph as a husband. Bennie, do ladies wear diamond necklaces at tea parties?”
“Not ladies,” said Ben Todd. “Sarah, you’re up to something. Now listen, you stalking tigress, Adolph may only be going to pay us a coupla hundred—”
“And expenses...”
“But a coupla hundred would pay my salary for four weeks, Sarah, so for hell’s sake, stick to Adolph.”
“Bennie, you know me. I have yet to betray the confidence of a client. Good-by. I’ll see you on the train.”
II
Sarah Watson stalked down the ramp beside which the Chicago train waited. She was dressed as she had been dressed that morning. She held firmly a large yellow suitcase of the cardboard variety and ignored, as she stalked, the three pestiferous red caps who pursued her.
Halfway down the long train, her steps slackened. There was a young man lounging there, with one foot on the lowest step of a car. He was a red-headed young man and he was deep in converse with a slinky young person who was aggressively female from the black velvet hat perched on her platinum curls to the black velvet bows on her spike heeled slippers.
Sarah took longer strides. She stopped abruptly beside the conversing couple. She said:
“Young man, is this car 654?”
The young man stared blankly at her a moment, then his wide mouth grew wider. He said: “Well, if it ain’t Aunt Sarah! Auntie, you’re early. I want you to meet my friend, Miss Dolores Flores.”
Miss Flores extended a drooping hand which dripped ruby red at the fingernails. She said: “Charmed!”
Sarah Watson grunted. She gave a nod which set her ancient headgear to quivering. She turned her back and mounted the steps. At the top of the steps, she paused. Ben Todd’s red head was close to the platinum blonde curls. Ben Todd was whispering and the young lady was giggling. Sarah peered down at them and made a horrible face.
The conductor was bawling his last warning when Miss Dolores Flores made her entrance into car 654, followed by Ben Todd. The young lady’s progress down the aisle was marked by a small flurry among the seated passengers, particularly the males. Only the woman in Section 4 remained oblivious, and she kept her rugged countenance bent over a printed circular until the pair passed. The circular said: “Twenty Reasons why American Ladies Should Vote Republican.” One sheet of the circular was devoted to the photograph of a lady whose nose and bosom were both prominent. The photograph was inscribed in flowing ink, “With regards to Mrs. Sarah Watson, from Mrs. Adolph A. Hecker.”
Ben Todd slid into seat 4, beside Sarah. Sarah lifted her eyes from the circular and fixed them on the elaborate curls which covered the back of Miss Flores’ head. Sarah said: “If you’ve got the necklace, Bennie, we’ve still time to get off?”
“Got the—! Whatya think I am, woman, a professional dip?”
“I think you’re a damn fool,” said Sarah. “If you ain’t got the necklace, what was the idea of all the billing and cooing?”
“Listen, horse-face,” whispered Ben Todd, leaning closer, “I... er... happened to scrape an acquaintance with the charmer in the course of my investigations this afternoon and...”
“I’ll bet you didn’t have to scrape very hard!”
“No. She likes auburn hair. Now listen, and no more cracks, old lady. This is biz. The charmer’s afraid. She’s asked me to protect her. There’s a naughty, bad man with dark hair and slimey eyes and a wart on his chin...”
“And two hairs growing out of the wart,” said Sarah. “I know. I saw him on the observation platform as I came by. And I’ve seen him somewhere before, but I can’t think where. He looks like a bad ’un. Now, I wonder who sicked him on Dolores?”
“Hell knows. You say he was on the observation...?”
“He was, but he ain’t now. Look!”
Ben Todd followed the lift of Sarah’s gray eyes. A dark individual was sliding into the seat directly opposite theirs.
“Bennie,” said Sarah, “I’ve got a premonition we have competition. We’ve got to look spry. It might not be a bad idea for you to go and bill and coo some more with Dolores. Buy her new magazines and things and charge ’em to Mr. Hecker. Stick with her— No! Wait—”
Sarah had risen abruptly. The young lady with the platinum tresses was making her way forward toward the door marked “Ladies.” Sarah stepped over Ben Todd’s long legs and into the aisle. The train began to move. Sarah lurched forward toward the door marked “Ladies.”