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.
But Tony said, “It’s for me, Mrs. Reckhow, thanks.”
“All right, Mr. Maratelli,” she said, and disappeared.
Tony went out into the hall and opened the door and MacBride said, “Morning, Tony,” and walked in.
They came back into the living-room and MacBride took off his hat, looked at it, creased the crown and then laid the hat on a table.
“How you feeling, Tony?”
“Not so good. I feel rotten, Cap. Yeah, I feel rotten.”
His black hair was tousled about the ears and he needed a shave and his jowls seemed to hang forlornly towards his shoulders.
MacBride, who had had only six hours sleep, looked fresh and vigorous. He went over by the window and looked at the men working on the sidewalk and then he turned around and looked at Tony.
“Tony,” he said, and looked at the floor, pursing his lips.
“Uh?” came Tony’s voice from somewhere in the roof of his mouth.
“Tony... about Dominick.”
Tony wiped a hand in front of his face as though he were brushing away a spider-web. “Uh... you found him?”
“No.”
“Oh... I thought you found him.”
“No, I didn’t find him.”
“Oh.” His voice was weary, coming out like weary footsteps.
MacBride brought his eyes up from the floor and fastened them on Tony’s eyes and seemed to screw down the bolts of his gaze with slow but sure precision.
“We’d better talk plain, Tony.”
Tony’s eyes glazed and seemed to stare as though at something beyond MacBride’s shoulder.
“Plain,” said MacBride, his voice going down.
“Well...” Tony shrugged and looked around the room as if there was something there he wanted.
MacBride clipped, “How long was Dominick in your house before they blew the front off?”
Tony muttered, “Holy Mother!” and sat down heavily in a chair.
“How long, Tony?”
“Look, Cap! Could I go and give my boy up when he come to me for protection, crying like a baby? Could I? Didn’t my wife she plead with me, too? But she did not have to plead, no. Dominick is my son, my flesh and blood, and if his father will not give him protection, who will? He is only the boy, Cap! He—”
“Now, wait a minute, Tony,” broke in MacBride. “I can guess all that. What I want to know is, how long was he there?”
“Three days — just three days. But — I couldn’t go tell you, Cap! The boy he ask me to protect him. He is sorry. He is sorry he got mixed up with that Chibby. He didn’t do nothing, Cap. He didn’t kill that box-fighter—”
“Who did?”
“I don’t know.”
“Tony...”
“Please to God, I don’t know!”
A muscle jerked alongside MacBride’s mouth. “Dominick knew! He told you!”
“No... no!”
“Tony” — MacBride’s voice was like a keen wind far off — “Tony, I’ve given you every break I could. I know you’re a good guy — the best wop I’ve ever known. But — you’ve got to come clean. Listen to me: I’m being razzed for that killing. You know why — because I happened to be in Al’s joint when these bums got soused and Barjo got knifed. But aside from that — even if I wasn’t razzed — I’d want the killer just the same—”
“But Dominick he didn’t kill—”
“Don’t go over that. He must have told something. What did he tell you?”
Tony spread his arms and looked as if he were going to cry. “Nothing, Cap.” And he kept wagging his head from side to side. “Didn’t I keep asking him? Sure. Didn’t I beg him to tell me? But he don’t tell. He just say he didn’t kill Barjo — and he swear by the cross and kiss it. Cap, please to God, that is the truth!”
MacBride took one hand out of his pocket and rubbed his jaw and put the hand back into his pocket again. A flush of color was in his lean hard cheeks, and there was a cool subdued fury lurking in his wide direct eyes. His voice became almost laconic:
“All right, then. He was in your house. When did he get away?”
“It must have been when the fire started. I heard him yell from the other room, and then he was gone when I got there. He must have run right out. And now — now, where is he?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out. I knew he’d been there when I poked around after the fire. He must have left in a hurry. His dress shirt and his studs were on the dresser, and his Tux was hanging on the wall. That’s why I knew he’d been home.”
“Yes, he didn’t go out once. He was... afraid.”
“Sure.”
“And now—”
His life,” put in MacBride, “won’t be worth two cents if Chibby and his crowd find him. That’s why I want to know where he is. He must have run out on the crowd and come home. They’re afraid he’ll spring something. That’s why they crashed your house.”
Tony rocked back and forth. “And if I knowed where he is, Cap, sure I’d tell you. I don’t want my boy murdered. God, if I only knowed where he is!”
“Listen,” said MacBride, “where are you going from here?”
“I think we’ll go to a hotel. The Maxim, yes.”
“Okey. But remember — if Dominick gets in touch with you, tell me right away. The only safe place for him is in the jail.”
“Jail!”
“Now calm yourself. Jail — yes. Let me know when you get in The Maxim.”
“Yes.” He got up, wobbling about. “Cap, you’re my friend, ain’t you?”
“Yeah, sure, Tony.”
“Thanks, Cap — thanks!” His breath wheezed. “My poor wife, she is all bust up.”
“Well, you’re not helping her any by slopping all over the place. Buck up. Get a shave. Don’t crack up like a damn’ hop-head. For crying out loud!”
He laughed bluntly and slapped Tony on the back and went out.
VI
Moriarity and Cohen were trying to get a kick out of playing two-handed Michigan when MacBride breezed into the office. They looked up once and then went on playing while MacBride got out of his overcoat. He came over and sat down and said:
“Deal me a hand.”
Cohen said, “Well, how’d you make out?”
“Yes and no. Tony doesn’t know a damned thing. But Dominick did come back to his house. He breezed when the place was blown.”
“And didn’t the kid tell his old man anything?” asked Cohen.
“No.”
Moriarity said, “What makes you think Tony was playing ball?”
“I just know it.”
Moriarity laughed. “Maybe you are getting soft, Cap.”
“Lay off,” said MacBride. “Tony’s a square wop.”
“Then why the cripes didn’t he tell you his kid was home?”
MacBride looked at his cards. “You haven’t got a kid, have you?”
“Not that I know of.”
Cohen laughed. “There’s a wisecrack for you, Cap!”
MacBride put four chips on the queen. “Then you wouldn’t know, Mory, why the old wop didn’t tell me. But he’s square.”
“Oh, yeah,” sighed Moriarity.
“Go ahead,” said MacBride, “razz me. I can stand it. If I took you guys and the newspapers seriously I’d jump in the river as a total loss. But you’re all just a bad smell to me.”
Moriarity laughed. “Poor old Cap!”
“Can that, too! And listen, you gumshoes. We want Dominick. He’s lone-wolfing it somewhere. Even you, Mory, would realize that after he left Chibby’s crowd and went back home, he wouldn’t dare show his mug again with the crowd. You’d realize that, Mory — any dumbbell would.”