The Devil’s Bookkeeper – Carlos Martinez (1931)

“Across the roof-top, a dim shadow slipped silently to a barred window, like a dull gray wraith that merged perfectly with the curling fingers of fog drifting in from the lake.”  For those unfamiliar with shadows, we are told that it made no noise.

The “hissing intake of breath, unmistakably a woman’s” reveals who is casting that shadow.  She cuts a circular hole in the window, and fires two shots at a man sleeping in bed: “two dull clicks from the blue metal in his fist.”  Wait, is the killer a man or woman?  Dude breathes like a lady.

The next morning, Detective Dan Conley tells Captain Steele, “Mugs Brandon was bumped off last night in that roof-top apartment of his.”  Conley says the killer is a woman because, “There was one footprint on the roof under that window, and it was made by the rubber sole from a woman’s shoe.”  Steele suspects it was either one of Mugs’ old molls, a Clancy Street Dame, a Hallway Baby, or Totie Fields.[1]  Conley more specifically suspects, “Clerical Clara.  It looks like her work.”

Steele responds by spitting in “the brass cuspidor which is a part of every police captain’s furniture.”  That response, though disgusting, is well-earned.  Steele points out, You know dam’ well that dame ain’t never been mixed up in this booze racket.”  OK, so how exactly did this look like her work then?  And by the way, in 1931 was leaving the “n” off of “damn” enough to bamboozle the censors?

Despite his captain’s well-reasoned spitting, Conley heads over to Clara Beaumont’s accounting office.  As well he might, as she is a “blonde beauty . . . between twenty-five and thirty-five, according to her mood.”  She denies knowing Mugs Brandon, and Conley notes her feet are 2 sizes smaller than the print left at the murder scene.  Clara says, “You dicks make me sick”.  Sensing there would be no double-entry posting with the bookkeeper that night, Conley leaves.

Ten minutes later, a “quietly-dressed girl” enter’s the office.  Clara  feels threatened because the girl has a pistol, and also is 10 years younger than her. The visitor is “a dark slender girl of about twenty-two, with the regal high-breasted carriage that speaks of breeding in any language.”  They exchange some snappy dialog, but the purpose of the visit is not clear.  Not having Conley’s eye for feet, the girl also suspects Clara shot Mugs.  She holds a gun on Clara all during the witty repartee, and threatens to kill her next time she sees her.  Then leaves.  Hunh?

Two days later, Mugs is buried.  After the festivities, “Sergeant Conley could not have told you what prompted him to return to the apartment where Mugs Brandon had been killed” (i.e. the writer couldn’t think of a reason).  In Mugs’ desk, he finds a box containing $50,000 and a list of names written in Clara’s hand:

  • Jake Cling, $5,000.
  • Soapy Taylor, $5,000.
  • Toad Wilson, $3,000

Once he remembers that “Jake” is just a nickname, he realizes what all three men have in common — they were recently shot.

Clara shows up and pulls a gun on Conley.  She is owed the dough for killing the three men on the list.  Then the younger woman, Mugs’ moll Carmen, shows up and pulls a gun on Clara.  Clara is able to elbow Carmen in the mouth, and the ladies start fighting.

20 minutes later, when it is clear this brawl is not going to lead to any ripped clothing or them kissing, Conley tries to escape.  But Clara holds them both at gunpoint.  The cops bust in, but Clara is able to get away.

It goes on, introducing a couple of unnecessary characters, but maintains a good pace.  Bonus points for Clara hiding out disguised as a messenger boy at the end.  My mental image of that outfit is pretty cute, but wholly impractical as the scandalous décolletage would have given her way immediately.  But think of the tips . . . from the customers, I mean.

Some crackling prose and good zingers make this a pretty good read . . . of the short story, I mean.

Other Stuff:

  • [1] No one under 80 will get that reference.  I am under 80.  Ergo I don’t get my own reference.  What?  It is 2:10 am.
  • First published in the August 1931 issue of Gun Molls.
  • Also that month:  Lou Gehrig played his 1,000th consecutive game — nothing can stop him now!

Mansion of Death – Roger Torrey (1940)

According to the introduction — and why else would I pay for a bunch of 80 year old public domain stories — this is “the most atypical story one could imagine in the pages of a pulp:  a little old lady takes a hard-boiled detective and leads him around by the nose.”  Well, the age and the body part are different, I’ll give’m that.

Shay was summoned to the Conklin Mansion, as it was known yesterday, to meet Miss Conklin about her murdered maid.  He liked the old woman immediately.  She looked like an old-fashioned grandmother dressed up in 5th Avenue clothes.  Her clothes fitted her perfectly and undoubtedly had cost her a lot of money.  But she didn’t seem to belong in them.  Yeah, but she damn well better stay in them if they expect me to finish this story. [1]

Conklin says $1,864 was stolen from her desk drawer.  Strangely, there were $50,000 in bonds in the same drawer, but none were taken.  Also, her 28 year old maid Mary Morse was murdered (I’m picturing Anne Hathaway’s intro in The Dark Knight Rises).  She did not call the police because she didn’t want them tramping through the house, and she has her own way of handling things.

Suspects are plentiful as Miss Conklin hires only ex-prisoners for her staff.  For example, the Butler was sent up for Armed Robbery and Assault, and her Chauffeur is also “an ugly bird”, presumably of the jail variety.  She does not want them hassled.

I thought of the butler and the cutthroat who had driven us to the house — and lord knows what other specimens around the house — and said, “Mrs. Conklin, I’d as soon live in a cage with wild tigers as here.

“That is very unfair,” she said.

“If Mary could talk, I’ll bet she wouldn’t agree with you.”

Boom!  The police arrive and determine that the Chauffeur had indeed done time in Dannemora and Joliet.  The Gardeners had collectively done time at McAlester, Folsom, and Leavenworth.  The Cook killed her husband with a frying pan.  Mary and the other Maids had done time for minor infractions such as shoplifting and practicing lesbianism without a license.  Also in the house are her nephew George and her niece Frances.

The butler tells Shay that Mary had been shaking George down for cash.  In fact, George had roughed her up about it recently.  Miss Conklin asks him not to pass that tidbit on to the cops until she has time to investigate it herself.

She lays a trap for her nephew, but he spoils it by actually being concerned about his aunt.  Then, her niece’s boyfriend — described problematically as a “small, dark man” — enters to conk Conklin on the head.  Luckily, Shay is hiding behind the fern and shoots him in the shin.  Yeah, right in the bone, splitting it in two.  I’m cringing just thinking about it.

Like the apocryphal liberal who has been mugged, Miss Conklin suddenly sees the light on punishment.  She pulls a horsewhip out of a drawer and begins whaling on Frances.  Shay has to stop her before she kills the girl.

Turns out, Miss Conklin’s sympathy for criminals was not ideologically driven.  She had actually done time herself, so felt an affinity for these jailbirds.  After that beating she gave her niece, she might get a chance to be around a lot more of them.

I could imagine this story being very entertaining if it were expanded.  The older woman taking charge is new.  The staff of criminals has great possibilities for fun.  And who doesn’t like a crook’s leg being blown off?  At just a few pages, though, it wasn’t possible to do much with it.

Other Stuff:

  • [1] Sorry about the ageism, but 30 minutes ago, I was traumatized by a scene on TV with a naked 100 year old woman.  Luckily, this was just basic cable so there is no lasting retinal damage.  On the plus side, it is an opportunity to recommend The Mick — maybe the funniest show since Arrested Development (Seasons 1-3 (it is also funnier than AD Seasons 4 and 5 but so is [insert any name here]).
  • First published in the May 25, 1940 issue of Detective Fiction Weekly

The Duchess Pulls a Fast One – Whitman Chambers (1936)

Spike, Katie, Pinky, and The Duchess — surprisingly humans, not puppies — are hanging out in the City Hall Press Room on a “dark and rainy night” when a fire alarm comes in.  Apparently, the fire house is actually in City Hall because the three run just down the hall to see the fire engine pulling out.  All three jump on the back of the vehicle as it pulls out.  This is a thrill for the ladies because they were were told it is men-only.  It is a thrill for Spike because he was once an 8 year old boy.

Turns out it is Kurt Bergstrom’s chemical plant going up.  Spike says it is fine with him if Bergstrom is inside.  Bergstrom might be an inventor and wealthy, philanthropic dude, but Spike says he is a publicity hound, and we are told “reporters do not like publicity hounds”.  Unlike now when any camera-whore with a face will be put in a little box on cable news to give their unchallenged talking points.

They are happy to hear there was a fatality, but it is not Bergstrom.  His assistant John Hamlin was working late and became smoked Hamlin.  After getting the facts, they pile into a cab to go see Bergstrom who is dining at the Hotel Drake because the Drake Hotel was not fancy enough.  Spike brusquely tells him that Hamlin is dead.  Bergstrom takes the news calmly, then inexplicably invites the reporters to go with him to break the news to Mrs. Hamlin.

Mrs. Hamlin reveals that her husband had fortuitously just purchased an $80,000 life insurance policy.  This immediately makes Spike and Pinky suspect that Hamlin’s death was faked for the insurance money.  He suspects collusion between Bergstrom, Hamlin and possibly the Russians.  They tell the story of a guy named Schwartz who had done exactly the same thing.  The Duchess cracks the story and invites the gang back to the hotel for the denouement.  Bergstrom and the widow Hamlin are also invited and an unlikely self-incrimination is made.

Pleasant enough, but not much going on here.

Other Stuff:

  • First published in the September 19, 1936 issue of Detective Fiction Weekly.

Gangster’s Brand – P.T. Luman (1931)

Two small, trim feet, then shapely legs in thin silk swung below the fire-escape in the dim light of the area way.  They swung for only an instant then dropped ten feet to the concrete pavement below . . . Carlotta Wynn, active member of “Mort” Mitchell’s mob waited expectantly for the opportunity to plug the guys who had spoiled one of the prettiest lays the gang had had for many a month.

Now that’s how you hook a reader.  Although it turns out the “lay” is not Carlotta, but the criminal opportunity that was just lost.  Mort, Carlotta, “Rod” Crandall, and “Needle” Schwartz get into the getaway car and flee the scene of the non-crime, while “Needle” wonders why “Rod” gets all the girls.  For the 3rd time, the gang has been foiled in a planned heist.  They take the getaway car to their hideaway at bar Dapper Dan’s Speakeasy.

Mort wants to find the rat.  They retrace the crime from the very beginning, but start after the basic part where they are all sociopathic parasites.  They got the tip from The Hag.  She is a hideous crone who hangs out in front of the Metropolitan Opera panhandling with a sob-story that she used to be beautiful and a dancer in the show herself; on the plus side, she no longer has to listen to the operas.  She told the gang she overheard the Vanderdoodies would be away from home and their diamonds left unguarded.

Hmmm, come to think of it, she gave them bad intel on their last three heists.  Mort thinks The Hag might be working with “Blackie” Rang’s gang to run Mort out of the business.  He assigns Carlotta to go to The Met on Friday and watch The Hag. He doesn’t tell her to actually watch the opera; the man’s not a monster.  He is a little oblivious, though.  The beautiful Carlotta has the hots for him, but he throws it in her face that he is stepping out that night with the vivacious Vi Carroll.  Little does he know Vi is in cahoots with Blackie.

Back at Blackie’s lair, he tells Vi they will try the old “passing Mort a bum tip via The Hag” scam a FOURTH time to lure him to the ol’ Horton place for a hot lead dinner.  How dumb are these people?  He mentions that Mort’s moll Carlotta never bares her right shoulder and Vi nervously realizes she knew her by a different name back in Chi-town.

Thanks to Carlotta’s spy work, Mort does not take the bait this time.  So Rango tells Vi to try the exact same scam a FIFTH time!  This guy makes that meathead Sonny Corleone look like a master strategerist.  Mort and Carlotta are a step ahead of them, finally, and turn this into a set up.

The shoulder thing is explained, and the good guys win.  Well, not good guys, but at least our bad guys.  Actually, I’m not even sure why they are our bad guys; we just happened to be introduced to them first.

It is a fine story with some good twists and three interesting dames.

Other Stuff:

  • First published in the August 1931 issue of Gun Molls Magazine.
  • Born that month:  Barbara Eden and Regis Philbin.  One of them was prohibited from showing their belly button on TV on the 1960s.

The Girl Who Knew Too Much – Randolph Barr (1941)

The editor apologizes in advance for the story — not a good sign.

The true author is unknown; Randolph Barr is apparently the Alan Smithee of the pulp world.  The supposed shame is that the story appeared in a “Spicy” publication [1]  .  We are warned that “we meet our heroine with her dress ripped down to her waist.”  It is suggested the reader not get his hopes up as “this is what passed for titillation in 1941.”  I don’t know what sorority house you live next to, Hef, but that sounds pretty OK to me.

Our hero is out walking at 2 AM “all the way to 2nd Avenue and 2nd Street.”  I guess he is on his way to Rue 2 to catch the 2 2 Train.  A girl runs up, as advertised, sporting a black dress ripped to the waist.  “Her breasts were heaving from running” which is also what I do from running.  The excitement continues as the man chasing her is gunned down, and another man drags his body away.  Our nameless hero gives me a move to try as he gets the girl in a cab, goes back to his place, only then asking if she would like to come up for a drink.

She tells us her name is Polly and she is the gal of Boss Russo.  The dead man, Dick Tobin, was also hot for her and died from that fever.  Her rescuer is a reporter, but otherwise respectable.  He offers to go to Polly’s apartment to retrieve something a little less ripped-to-the-waisty for her to wear.  For his trouble, he is conked on the head.  Just as he wakes up to see Louis Russo has tied him up, Polly comes looking for him.  Russo leaves with her, delegating him to his flunkies to deal with.

The reporter escapes and goes to Russo’s HQ to save Polly.  He manages to go from merely being tied up before, to now being shot and tied up.  Nice work, Scoop!  The cops save his bacon by breaking down the door and shooting Russo.  Polly, who has somehow found a reason to be topless again, admits that she has been working — oh the irony — undercover to bust Russo.

The editor was right.  It is a breezy little piffle, that is far less interested in telling a story than in getting Polly half-naked a couple of times.  In other words, A+.

Other Stuff: