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.
She helped him to the window, across the sill, and joined him a moment later. Outside, she leaned close to him, and he caught his first glimpse of her costume and the identifying mask.
“The Domino Lady!” he exclaimed, wonderingly.
“At your service!” she returned, evenly, her soft voice tempered to a lazy, disguising drawl for Cathern’s benefit. “And having a crack at the Black Legion, and its unscrupulous political backers! I’ve tried to help you, Paul Cathern; will you help me in return?”
“Name it!” he said, quickly, earnestly, “and the life you’ve saved will be risked in its accomplishment if necessary!”
She laughed softly in the darkness.
“The help I ask,” she said, “will bring about the downfall of the Black Legion and the complete ruin of the higher-ups in this state, Cathern! We must move fast! Come—”
Without another word, Ellen Patrick set out in the direction of the road, and Paul Cathern followed after her.
As the rear door of the sedan swung open, and Ellen’s pencil flash sprayed the interior with white light, Paul Cathern’s lips curved in a pleased grin. He stood for a moment looking down upon the bound figure of J. Riggs Saint without a hint of compassion in his gray eyes.
Then he shot a questioning glance at The Domino Lady.
“The Black Legion owes much to this man,” drawled Ellen in explanation. “He’s one of the higher-ups who provide protection! It’s my idea that he should pay as they have made other victims pay!”
“Just what is your idea?” whispered Cathern, meaningly.
Ellen laughed, liquidly. “Have you noticed the similarity in size and coloring between you and Saint?”
The investigator started. “You’re right!” he exclaimed, “though I’d never noticed it before! Just what—”
“They were going to torture you,” she interrupted, evenly, “and this scoundrel had assured them of immunity! What could be more appropriate than a quick switch of clothing, plant Saint in your place, and his brutes do as they will with him! By the way they looked tonight, I have a feeling that they’ll fail to recognize him. And J. Riggs Saint will get a sound flogging; a dose of his own medicine.”
The special investigator grinned. “All the way!” he cried, softly, “and then some! Let’s get busy!” He began peeling off his coat.
Ellen busied herself with the bulky briefcase she had taken from the politician.
By the dashlight, she gave its contents closer attention than before. She was astounded by the scope of damaging evidence it contained. Evidently the district attorney had been an active organizer and a charter member of the Black Legion in the state!
His intimate papers went into detail, mentioned prominent names, some of them political figures of highest power!
She turned at the sound of Cathern’s voice to find him garbed in the district attorney’s natty tweeds, his own rumpled worsted gracing the figure of the politician.
The latter was now conscious, and his eyes rolled in fear from one to the other of his captors. Cathern had again bound him, securely.
The tape prevented him from speaking, but he squirmed frantically about, struggling with his bonds.
The investigator bent, placed the handkerchief mask upon the upper part of the attorney’s face. Thus rigged, no one could possibly tell the politician from the young detective!
And, since the Legion usually bound and taped a masked prisoner before torturing him, it looked as though J. Riggs Saint was in for a dose of his own medicine!
It wasn’t far to the window. Cathern was small but wiry, with spring steel rippling along shoulders and legs. He had no particular difficulty in lifting the flabby form of the district attorney to his shoulders. Guided by Ellen, he moved noiselessly toward the house with his burden.
Sounds of maudlin singing came from the lighted room as they hefted the figure over the sill, and into the interior of the prison. Evidently, the heavy drinking Lucas had reached a state of inebriation where song alone could express his feelings. Ellen was glad.
The sounds of their movements were masked completely by the off-key bellowing of the drunken Legionaries!
They placed the still squirming form of the politician in the exact spot where Paul Cathern had lain.
A moment later, they were again outside the building, the window closed. They hurried toward Saint’s sedan. Ellen would have liked to remain in the vicinity to witness the surprising denouement when Saint’s men discovered that their victim was the district attorney himself, but the need for retreat was pressing.
Too much depended upon a quick return to the city, and safe disposal of the incriminating evidence to think of tarrying for the sake of pleasure!
So it was that she backed the car in a noiseless half circle, and allowed it to glide toward the distant concrete highway without engine power.
Once at a distance from the torture house, she throttled the engine to a steady, mile-eating pace, headed for the city.
There was little conversation between them as they hurtled along through the night. Ellen thought she understood why Paul Cathern was so quiet.
He was an employee of the sheriff’s office, and The Domino Lady was reputedly outside the law. She had saved his life, and he couldn’t very well question her or attempt to establish her identity!
He looked out of the window, away from her, his long fingers testing the toughness of a two-day growth of dark beard on his lean cheeks.
As they crossed the city limits, and neared a cab stand, Ellen laughed swiftly, and slowed the sedan.
“Obviously, you must leave me here,” she told him in the assumed drawl, “since I must remove the mask before driving farther into the city. And I must ditch Riggs Saint’s car, you know! You should have no difficulty in getting a taxi to your apartment.”
For the first time in minutes, he looked at her, intently.
“Certainly!” he returned, quickly.
“I understand! But before we part, let me assure you of my undying gratitude for this night’s work! I’ve heard some pretty awful things about The Domino Lady in the past.”
She interrupted. “And you believed them, of course?”
Cathern grinned.
“Perhaps I did,” he admitted, “but never again! You’re aces with me! If I can ever help you in any way, please call upon me. I owe a lot to you.”
Again Ellen interrupted, as she drew the sedan to the curb.
“Forget it!”
And then, “It was all in the night’s work. I’m amply repaid if you’re convinced that I’m not the creature my enemies would have everyone believe. But there is one favor you can grant me, if you will.”
“Just name it!” he said, eagerly.
Ellen held out the briefcase to him.
“Take this,” she said, “and see that it gets into the right hands. It contains a lot of vital information which will help to break up the Black Legion in California. It contains dates, rituals, and a complete list of political office holders who are secretly members of the clan.”
“But the credit?” interpolated Paul Cathern, soberly.
She gestured with gloved hands, briefly. “Who cares about that? It was only to defeat the political machine that I became interested. If you will take this evidence I’ll be more than satisfied. As an officer, the credit will set well on your shoulders.”
He had climbed from the car, briefcase in hand, but now he leaned through the window, and grasped her hand. Her red lips pursed a charming:
“Goodbye.”
“Til we meet?” he breathed, with an engaging grin.
“Quien sabe?”