Tough as Nails: The Complete Cases of Donahue: from the Pages of Black Mask
Language: English
Pages: 610
ISBN: 1618270087
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Presenting Tough Dick Donahue, the inter-state detective agency operative who replaced the Continental Op after Dashiell Hammett stopped writing for Black Mask Magazine. Collected for the first time in a single volume is every one of the fifteen Donahue stories: "Rough Justice" (November, 1930), "The Red-Hots" (December, 1930), "Gun Thunder" (January, 1931), "Get A Load of This" (February, 1931), "Spare the Rod" (August, 1931), "Pearls Are Tears" (September, 1931), "Death’s Not Enough" (October, 1931), "Shake-Up" (August, 1932), "He Could Take It" (September, 1932), "The Red Web" (October, 1932), "Red Pavement" (December, 1932), "Save Your Tears" (June, 1933), "Song and Dance" (July, 1933), "Champions Also Die" (August, 1933), and "Ghost of a Chance" (March, 1935). This compendium also contains an all-new introduction by Will Murray and a complete bibliography of the works of Frederick Nebel as compiled by Rob Preston.
as we came in?… So you think that a quart of bath-tub gin can get a good man tight? Well, sister!” He laughed heartily, lifted her from the bed and laid her on the floor. Her face worked as she tried to yell, but not a sound came from her gagged mouth. He pulled a counterpane and two sheets from the bed and tied them together. The end of one sheet he tied to the bed. The end of the counterpane he lashed around the girl’s waist. He moved quickly, surely. He carried the girl to the window, shoved
bough-like arms, his broad palms. “I’m kinda busted up, kid.” “Kinda busted up,” Pete Korn said, his dry lips twitching. Donahue said: “I just dropped in on my way home. I hear they’re going to ask for an autopsy.” “Yeah?” Sam Beckert said; he looked around goggle-eyed at the men, then looked back at Donahue, nodded. “I guess that’s their privilege. Sure. Why not? Unless”—he waved to the Negro—“George there objects. That’s King’s brother.” The Negro dipped his head. “Of course, if the police
flushed from what apparently was a combination of an inner excitement and the cold out-of-doors. It made her look very attractive in a fresh, wholesome way, like frost in the early fall. “I understand now,” she said, nodding, looking gravely at him, “what you meant when you chased me away from the apartment door.” He was candid: “I thought it was Loftman.” She did not understand quite what he meant and her eyebrows lifted. “I mean,” he said, “I thought it was Loftman was dead.” “Did you send
canary yellow negligee. Ames said, “Will you get dressed, Miss Saffarrans? We’ll wait.” She looked at them with wide, motionless eyes. She was still swallowing hard. “What—what—?” Ames said, “We just about shot apart a friend of yours. We’ll want you too. Make it nice, Miss Saffarrans.” “Oh-o!” she whimpered forlornly. Ames picked up the telephone, said into the mouthpiece, “Let me speak to the manager.” And a half minute later, “Hello. This is Detective Ames. I’m in eight-ten. Don’t get
relayed. A black Cadillac sedan, with six men and Illinois plates.” He telephoned from a pretentious filling station and then came back, told Smiddy to keep to Route 40. A mile east of Wentzville Donahue suddenly said: “Hey, pull up!” Smiddy looked across at him. “Pull up!” Donahue yelled above the beating of the wind. Smiddy took his foot off the throttle and applied the brakes gradually. The Packard bumped gently on the frozen shoulder alongside the road. “There was a car parked in a lane