
The piercing screams of a woman filled the awed hollow of silence left void by the chatter of a sub-machine-gun and acted as a magnet of sound to suck the big squad car to the scene.
That opening sentence had me diving for cover — I mean the cover of the Cliffs Notes version.
Fortunately, things took a turn for the much better, although not immediately:
Even before the police driver braked the hurtling machine to a full stop, Duane and Barnaby debouched from the tonneau.
Did what from the what now? From this point, things get more serious as a child has been killed with three slugs in the back from a drive-by shooting. Just to keep the reader on his toes, Barnaby and Duane are the last names of the detectives.
The boy’s mother is not comforted by the presence of the police. She shrieks, “You’re just like the gangsters wat [sic] kill my baby! You know who did it, but you won’t do nothin’!” Sadly, Barnaby and Duane know she is right to feel that way. It was probably Krako’s boys hitting one of Okmyx’s men, but nobody saw nothing and they are all politically protected. Even if they were hauled in, they would never be convicted.
It’s worth a shot, though. They see Boss Ritter in his car and pull him over. He is packing a .38, but has a permit all nice and legal. They search his car without a warrant which is not so legal. Ritter is utterly shocked when Barnaby punches him out and arrests him. By the time they get to the police station, his lawyer is waiting to spring him.
This gets Police Chief Grogan’s goat and he chews Barnaby out for slugging Ritter, illegally searching the car, and hauling him in with no evidence. He is busted down to a uniformed beat cop. He tells off the corrupt Grogan and quits.
Later at Duane’s house, Barnaby and Duane are joined by two fellow cops. The four men decide to establish an alternate legal system. Not as vigilantes, but as private citizens operating by the rule of justice rather than the rule of law. So, yeah, vigilantes.
Their first target is “Big Dutch” Ritter whom they haul out of La Parisienne Cafe before his companions see how he got his nickname. Ritter knows that a squad car ride downtown ends at the police station, which is no problem. He is a little concerned, though, that this time he has been thrown in the back of a private sedan, and the driver has an Uber rating with fewer stars than Batman v Superman. Barnaby tells Ritter they are working for a different police force now — from the City of Hell!
Ritter is hauled subterranean to their HQ in an abandoned sewer line. They say it is appropriate because it was built due to graft and is unusable. Crooked lawyers in the above-ground court-rooms can’t save him now. They have set up a whole judicial system down there including a judge, lawyer, clerk, grand jury etc that they have abducted into service as apparently kidnapping is not considered a crime in the City of Hell.
After a brief reign of terror justice, our boys clean up the streets, the police department, and hopefully that septic tank they are operating out of. Of course there will be no repercussions for their unconstitutional shenanigans — having driven the old gang of corrupt bureaucrats out of their jobs, the City of Hell gang will assume those positions and keep their brothers out of jail. The cycle continues.
Maybe my favorite story of the collection so far. Who doesn’t love vigilantes? Until they usually end up killing the wrong person, I mean.
Post-Post:
- First published in Black Mask in November 1933.
- Also that month: Duck Soup released.
I know, you’re thinking he is strange because he went into proctology. Those guys must have hookers in their booth at doctor career day. But no.
Lorenz tells them he has mastered communication with our Apian-American friends. Garner tells Lorenz, “The whole world will be grateful when news of your discovery is made public. With the facilities of a big pharmaceutical company, production can be stepped up. Every man, woman and child will have access to your curative.” Let’s do the math . . . some bees, they make the honey. $750 a pop sounds about right.
Now this is how you start an episode! A helicopter comes in low over a snowy landscape, approaching a small government (?) installation. Just like
Some time later, Eiger contacts Ben by video phone and has him test the equipment. There is a retinal scanner and palm print analyzer so that none of the other zero people welded into the top-secret, 2-mile deep bunker at the South Pole will try to destroy the earth. But better safe than sorry — however, it might have been a morale-builder to assign him a code name more optimistic than DeadMan1. Even more depressing, the scanner says, “Authorized: Dead Man” confirming his likely fate and not even getting his code name right.
Day 70
A couple of low-lifes go into a blues club where we hear blues so bad it is giving me the blues. One of them orders a scotch and drops a $20 bill on the floor. A stiletto heel stamps on it. He says to the shapely owner Jackie Dresser, “You’re not my mother” which I don’t understand at all. He follows her to the 2nd floor which is conveniently located upstairs.
Back at her place, she dolls up like she’s going to the prom. Her bedroom is lined with pictures of a guy. One of the pictures is signed “Bill Hagerman”. Is this her boyfriend? He signs his full name? It probably isn’t a movie star because she is in one picture with him. I’m baffled.
The blonde comes back and breaks into Johnny’s room. She sees a body in the bed, and says, “You slut” which makes no sense. From her POV, she can only see a little of the person’s head. Why would she assume it was Jackie alone in Johnny’s room? She sees someone walking to Johnny’s convertible and uses a remote detonator to blow it up.
Boarding houses were apparently much more popular in the 1950s than I ever realized. Or maybe it is just a dramatic device that enables AHP to assemble colorful oddballs in a scene; like when an episode is set in England.
