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.
It didn’t take long for MacBride to spot Sam Chibbarro. Chibby was at a big table near the dance-floor. Dominick was there, too. And MacBride picked out Kid Barjo, a big bruiser swelling all out of his Tux. There were some women — three of them. One had red hair and looked rather tall. Another had hair black as jet pulled back over the ears. The third was a little doll-faced blonde and she was necking Dominick. MacBride recognized her. She was Bunny Dahl, who used to hoof with a cheap burlesque troupe and was for a while mama to Jazz Millio before Jazz died by the gun. The whole party looked tight. A lot of people were there, and many of them looked uptownish.
This Club Naples was no haven for a piker. A drink was two dollars a throw, and the convert four. If a hostess sat down with you, your drink or hers was three dollars a throw, and her own drinks were doctored with nine parts Canada Dry. A sucker joint.
Joe brought the bottle of Golden Wedding and a fresh box of cigars. MacBride took one of the cigars, bit off the end, and Joe held a match. MacBride puffed up and Joe went away, leaving the Golden Wedding on the table. MacBride poured himself a drink and watched Chibby and his crowd making whoopee.
Presently Kid Barjo got up, wandered around the table and then flung his arms around Bunny Dahl. Dominick didn’t like that, and he took a crack at Barjo, and Chibby stood up and jumped between them. Bunny thought it was a great joke, and laughed. Chibby dragged Barjo to the other side of the table and made him sit down. Barjo was cursing and looking daggers at Dominick.
The jazz band struck up, and Chibby took the red-haired girl and pulled her out to the dance-floor. Barjo sulked and Dominick seemed to be bawling out Bunny. Then Bunny got up in a huff and hurried through a door at the other end of the cabaret. Barjo jumped up and followed her. Dominick took a drink and lit a cigarette and turned his back on the door. But he kept throwing looks over his shoulder. Finally he got up and went through the door, too, not so steady on his feet.
MacBride took another drink and sat back. When the dance was over Chibby and the red-haired girl came back to the table, and Chibby looked around and asked some questions. He shot a look towards the door, cursed and went through it.
MacBride leaned forward on his elbows and watched the door. The jazz band cut loose, and the saxophone warbled. The two girls at Chibby’s table were both talking at the same time, and both of them looked peeved. The small dance-floor was jammed.
Joe came over and said, “Everything okey, Cap?”
“Yeah,” said MacBride, watching the door.
“Maybe you’d like a nice sandwich? Al told me to ask you.”
“No, Joe.”
“Okey, Cap.”
“Okey.”
Joe turned, swooped down on a table that had been temporarily abandoned by two couples. He swept up four glasses that were only half empty, swept out, and came back with four full ones. He marked it all down on his pad. A gyp-joint waiter has no conscience.
The drummer was singing out of the side of his mouth, “Through the black o’ night, I gotta go where you go.”
Chibby came out of the door. He was frowning. He walked swiftly to his table, clipped a few words to the girls. They started to get up. He snapped them down. Then he turned and headed towards the ante-room.
“Hello, Chibby,” said MacBride.
Chibbarro jerked his head around.
“Jeeze... well, hello, MacBride! Where’d you come from?”
“I’ve been here — for a while — Chibby.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Hell... ain’t that funny!”
“Funny?”
“Yeah, I mean funny I didn’t see you.”
“That is funny, Chibby.”
“Yeah, it sure is. See you in a minute, Cap.”
Chibby hurried out to the ante-room. MacBride turned his head and looked after him. Chibby looked over his shoulder as he pushed open the door. MacBride squinted one eye. His lips flattened perceptibly against his teeth, and one corner of his mouth bent downward. A curse grunted in his throat, behind his tight mouth. He looked back towards the door at the other end of the dance-floor.
The two girls who had been sitting at Chibby’s table were now walking towards the ante-room. MacBride watched them go out. A frown grew on his forehead, then died. Joe came in from the ante-room and stood with his back to the door. He was looking at MacBride. His face was a little pale. He backed out again.
MacBride turned in time to see the door swing shut, but he did not see Joe. He stood up and took a fresh grip on his cigar. He walked towards the door and shoved it open. He stood with the light streaming down over his shoulders.
“Goin’, Cap?” asked Al Vassilakos.
MacBride let the door shut behind him. “Where’s Chibby?”
Al was standing in the shadows, his face a pale blur. “I guess he went, Cap.”
“Where’re those two women were with him?”
“They... all went, Cap.”
The red end of MacBride’s cigar brightened and then dimmed.
“Al, what the hell’s wrong?”
“Wrong? Well, hell, I don’t know. They just went out.”
MacBride turned and pushed open the door leading into the cabaret. He strode swiftly among the tables, crossed the dance-floor and went through the door at the farther end. This led him into a broad corridor. He stopped and looked around, one eye a-squint. He pushed open a door at his left. It was dark beyond. He reached for and found a switch; snapped on the lights. The room was well-furnished — but empty.
When he backed into the corridor, Al was there.
“What the hell, Cap?”
“Don’t be dumb!”
MacBride went to the next door on the right, opened it and switched on the lights. It, too, was empty. He came back into the corridor and bent a hard eye on Al. Then he pivoted and went on to the next door on the left. He opened it and turned on the lights. He looked around. It was empty. There was an adjoining room, with the door partly open.
“Jeeze, Cap, what’s the matter?”
“Pipe down!”
MacBride crossed the room and pulled the door wide open. He felt a draught of cold night air. He reached around and switched on the lights in the next room.
A table was overturned.
Kid Barjo lay on the floor with a bloody throat.
“H’m,” muttered MacBride, and turned to look at Al.
The Greek’s jowls were shaking.
MacBride took a couple of steps and bent down over Kid Barjo. He stood up and turned and looked at the Greek.
“Dead, Al. Some baby carved his throat open.”
“My God Almighty!” choked Al.
MacBride spun and dived across the room to the open window. He looked out. An alley ran behind. He jumped out and ran along, followed a sharp turn to the right. He saw that the alley led to the street. He ran down it and into Jockey Street. There was no one in sight.
He entered the Club Naples through the front door and returned to the room where the Greek was still standing. He looked at a telephone on the wall.
“Listen, Al. Did Chibby make a call in the lobby?”
“I... I—”
“Come on, Al, if you know what’s good for you.”
“I think he did.”
“Okey. He called whoever was in here when he knew I was outside and they breezed through this window. And you’ve been stalling, you two-faced bum!”
“So help me, Cap—”
“Can it! There’s one of three people killed this guy.”
“Jeeze!”
The Greek fell into a chair, stunned.
MacBride called Headquarters.
Outside in the cabaret the drummer was singing, “That’s what you get for making whoope-e-e-e!...”