The Cutthroats and Criminals Megapack Read online

  Table of Contents

  COPYRIGHT INFORMATION

  A NOTE FROM THE EDITOR

  ABOUT THE SERIES

  RECOMMEND A FAVORITE STORY?

  TYPOS

  CRIMINAL TYPES, by Vincent McConnor

  REDHEADS DIE QUICKLY, by Gil Brewer

  THE SARDONIC STAR OF TOM DOODY, by Dashiell Hammett

  A HEARING AID FOR CARMODY, by Stephen Wasylyk

  A PADLOCK FOR CHARLIE DRAPER, by James Holding

  A TRULY HONEST MAN, by Talmage Powell

  MURDER OF A MOUSE, by Fletcher Flora

  SUPPLY AND DEMAND, by James Michael Ullman

  SHADOWED, by Richard Wormser

  A GETAWAY WITH THE GOODS, by James Edward Hungerford

  TRUE TO TYPE, by Grover Jones

  THERE’S SOMETHING FUNNY HERE, by James Michael Ullman

  IT’S ALWAYS TOO LATE, by Gil Brewer

  TRESPASSER, by Fletcher Flora

  THE WEREWORM, by Vincent McConnor

  A WAY WITH A WILL, by Talmage Powell

  ONCE UPON A BANK FLOOR…, by James Holding

  PASSAGE TO BEIRUT, by H. B. Hickey

  AN INGENIOUS DEFENSE, by Anonymous

  THOUSAND DOLLAR QUESTION, by Stephen Wasylyk

  Wildside Press’s MEGAPACK® Ebook Series

  COPYRIGHT INFORMATION

  The Cutthroats and Criminals MEGAPACK® is copyright © 2019 by Wildside Press, LLC. All rights reserved.

  * * * *

  The MEGAPACK® ebook series name is a registered trademark of Wildside Press, LLC. All rights reserved.

  * * * *

  “Criminal Types,” by Vincent McConnor, was originally published in Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, December 1972. Copyright © 1972 by Vincent McConnor. Reprinted by permission of the author’s estate

  “The Sardonic Star of Tom Doody,” by Dashiell Hammett, was originally published in Brief Stories, February 1923.

  “Redheads Die Quickly,” by Gil Brewer, was originally published in Mystery Tales, April 1959.

  “A Hearing Aid For Carmody,” by Stephen Wasylyk, was originally published in Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, March 1969. Copyright © 1969 by Stephen Wasylyk. Reprinted by permission of the author’s estate.

  “A Padlock For Charlie Draper,” by James Holding, was originally published in Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine July 1967. Copyright © 1967 by James Holding. Reprinted by permission of the author’s estate.

  “A Truly Honest Man,” by Talmage Powell, was originally published in Mike Shayne Mystery Magazine, September 1972. Copyright © 1967 by Talmage Powell. Reprinted by permission of the author’s estate.

  “Murder of a Mouse,” by Fletcher Flora, was originally published in Manhunt, May 1954.

  “Supply And Demand,” by James Michael Ullman, was originally published in Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, July 1964. Copyright © 1964 by James Michael Ullman. Reprinted by permission of the author’s estate.

  “Shadowed,” by Richard Wormser, was originally published in Manhunt, March 1957.

  “A Getaway with The Goods,” by James Edward Hungerford, was originally published in All-Story Weekly, August 2, 1919.

  “True To Type,” by Grover Jones, was originally published in Colliers, September 5, 1936.

  “There’s Something Funny Here,” by James Michael Ullman, was originally published in Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, January 1974. Copyright © 1974 by James Michael Ullman. Reprinted by permission of the author’s estate.

  “It’s Always Too Late,” by Gil Brewer, was originally published in Detective Fiction, April 1951.

  “Trespasser,” by Fletcher Flora, was originally published in Manhunt, September 1957.

  “The Wereworm,” by Vincent McConnor, was originally published in Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, September 1974. Copyright © 1974 by Vincent McConnor. Reprinted by permission of the author’s estate.

  “A Way With A Will,” by Talmage Powell, was originally published in Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, April 1981. Copyright © 1981 by Talmage Powell. Reprinted by permission of the author’s estate.

  “Once Upon A Bank Floor,” by James Holding, was originally published in Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, July 1961. Copyright © 1961, 1989 by James Holding. Reprinted by permission of the author’s estate.

  “Passage To Beirut,” by H. B. Hickey, was originally published in Mammoth Mystery, March 1946.

  “An Ingenious Defense,” by Anonymous, was originally published in The Leisure Hour, April 28th 1877.

  “Thousand Dollar Question,” by Stephen Wasylyk, was originally published in Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, January 1997. Copyright © 1997 by Stephen Wasylyk. Reprinted by permission of the author’s estate.

  A NOTE FROM THE EDITOR

  Welcome to the first installment of Wildside Press’s Cutthroats and Criminals MEGAPACK® series, dedicated to crime and mystery short fiction of a slightly craftier persuasion. Herein you will find murder, certainly, but also burglary, larceny, plots, schemes and all around chicanery—as not every criminal empire has been built at the point of a knife. Inheritance swindles, bank robbery, jewel thievery—we felt these short fiction topics deserved exposure, while also being somewhat leery of including them in our Noir and Pulp Crime MEGAPACK® series, whose audience may expect a bit more hardboiled fare under that name. So we’ve initiated this new series for (a bit) more “low-impact” crime stories, and we hope you will enjoy the offerings on display (expect to be searched on your way out the door!)

  Enjoy!

  —Shawn M. Garrett

  Editor, Wildside Press LLC

  wildsidepress.com | bcmystery.com

  ABOUT THE SERIES

  Over the last five years, our MEGAPACK® ebook series has grown to be our most popular endeavor. (Maybe it helps that we sometimes offer them as premiums to our mailing list!) One question we keep getting asked is, “Who’s the editor?”

  The MEGAPACK® ebook series (except where specifically credited) are a group effort. Everyone at Wildside works on them. This includes John Betancourt (me), Carla Coupe, Steve Coupe, Shawn Garrett, Helen McGee, Bonner Menking, Sam Cooper, Helen McGee and many of Wildside’s authors…who often suggest stories to include (and not just their own!)

  RECOMMEND A FAVORITE STORY?

  Do you know a great classic science fiction story, or have a favorite author whom you believe is perfect for the MEGAPACK® ebook series? We’d love your suggestions! You email the publisher at [email protected].

  Note: we only consider stories that have already been professionally published. This is not a market for new works.

  TYPOS

  Unfortunately, as hard as we try, a few typos do slip through. We update our ebooks periodically, so make sure you have the current version (or download a fresh copy if it’s been sitting in your ebook reader for months.) It may have already been updated.

  If you spot a new typo, please let us know. We’ll fix it for everyone. You can email the publisher at [email protected].

  CRIMINAL TYPES, by Vincent McConnor

  Originally published in Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, December 1972.

  The great white cruise ship, berthed at the long pier, was dazzling in a glare of early spring sunshine, with pennants and flags whipping in a breeze from the ocean and sea gulls floating effortlessly against the clear blue sky.

  “California, Here I Come,” played by a brass band, flowed from hidden speakers on all the decks. The recording would continue over and over until the last passenger went ashore.

  Louis Bonnard leaned against the
ship’s rail with several fellow stewards, waiting to see his charges go down the long gangplank; the people whose cabins he was assigned to serve on this world cruise.

  Bonnard watched Mrs. Raleigh teetering down to the pier on her high heels and wondered what she would do in Los Angeles. A rich dame like that had friends in every port. Mrs. Raleigh had told him, first day aboard, that she was a widow. Her husband had been president of some big corporation in New York; dead only a year. Lots of rich widows took these cruises hoping to find another husband. He saw Mrs. Raleigh approach one of the waiting limousines. The uniformed chauffeur removed his cap and opened the car door for her. Mrs. Raleigh and the other rich ones wouldn’t ride in those chartered buses lined up near the entrance to the pier.

  The other stewards, mostly Italian and French, made rude remarks and laughed at some of the people whose cabins they served. They called them pigs and complained about their tips.

  Louis Bonnard never joined in that kind of talk. He was good at his job, proud of the way he catered to the needs of his charges, with no complaints about the tips they gave him. This was the fifth cruise he had worked on this liner, and his passengers had already given him more tips than usual.

  He watched Mr. Garrison and his pretty secretary going down the gangplank. Miss Wilmer was helping the old man, holding his arm. They occupied the most expensive cabins on the ship—the millionaire’s suite—and he had guessed, when he served their first bottle of champagne before they sailed from New York, that blonde Miss Wilmer was much more than a secretary. Garrison was sure to know important people in the cinema colony. He watched the smiling chauffeur salute and help them into a sleek black limousine.

  Later in the day, when his work was finished, he would go ashore; but he wouldn’t bother with Los Angeles this trip. There was some shopping he needed to do, and maybe see a movie and have dinner. He mustn’t spend too much because he had to save every centime for that bar he would own one day on the Riviera. Another four or five years...

  Mr. and Mrs. Benson were going down the gangplank. Nice couple. Always laughing and pleasant. No matter where you saw them—any port in the world—you would know they were American tourists. Not rich but, from the size of their tips, comfortably fixed. Mr. Benson had told him that he was retired, but he never mentioned what sort of business he had been in. He watched the Bensons walking along the pier toward the chartered buses. They wouldn’t waste money on a limousine.

  Louis had been worried about the Bensons when they went ashore at Panama. So many characters, criminal types, waited in every port to rob tourists. The Bensons were innocents. They would be smiling and friendly with anybody who approached them. Nothing had happened in Panama or Acapulco, but he would start to worry again when the cruise reached the Orient. Some of those ports were really dangerous. There had been incidents on all of his previous cruises, but there had never been any publicity. Each robbery and mugging was hushed up, the people involved warned not to discuss what had happened with any of their fellow passengers—except they always told their steward.

  Mr. Benson was helping his wife up the steps into one of the big buses.

  Louis wondered what they would do in Los Angeles...

  * * * *

  Mrs. Benson was wearing a flowered scarf over her head, tied beneath her chin, gray hair fluffed out around her plump cheeks. She was dressed in green slacks and a blouse patterned with bright tropical birds. White sandals on her bare feet revealed scarlet-painted toenails, and she was clutching a white handbag.

  Her husband was wearing a yellow cloth cap with a white plastic visor, and an expensive camera hung from his shoulder on a leather strap. He, too, was wearing sandals, plain leather, which he had bought in Acapulco. Both Bensons had sunglasses over their eyes which made them appear even more like tourists.

  When they left the bus, like good tourists they hesitated on the corner to get their bearings.

  “Oooh!” Millie Benson squealed. “Isn’t that the Chinese Theater over there?”

  They crossed the boulevard when the traffic light turned green, and joined the other tourists milling about in the forecourt of the movie palace.

  Harry photographed Millie trying to fit her sandal into some of the stars’ footprints preserved in cement, but all the women’s feet proved to be smaller than hers.

  The Bensons avoided a man who was offering maps of movie stars’ homes, and continued on down Hollywood Boulevard.

  They read the names of film stars embedded in the sidewalks, and were pleased when they discovered one of their favorites.

  When they reached the corner of Hollywood and Vine, there was nothing to see but a department store, drugstore and restaurant; nothing to show that this was the heart of Hollywood.

  “Well! I certainly never thought it would be like this,” Millie complained, disappointed. “Did you, Harry?”

  Benson only grunted as they turned to look back, down the length of the boulevard.

  “Only nice thing is those little trees they’ve planted along the curb,” Millie observed.

  Harry squinted at them. “They look kinda poorly. Need water.” He noticed a dark youth standing near the window of a haberdashery, watching them. He was wearing a loud sport shirt and red slacks. Benson turned back to his wife. “Where do we go now, honey?”

  “Let’s take one of those studio tours. Then I want to see Olvera Street and Malibu...”

  “You folks strangers in town?”

  They turned to face the dark young man in red slacks who had crossed the sidewalk toward them.

  “Yeah,” Harry answered. “We’re strangers, all right.”

  “Could I help you, maybe? Show you the city?”

  “That’s real kind.” Millie glanced at her husband. “But I think we can manage.”

  “Thanks, young man,” Harry answered. “We re doin’ okay.”

  Harry signaled a taxi and told the driver they wanted to go to a movie studio where they had tours.

  The tour was fascinating. Harry enjoyed watching the stunt men while Millie exclaimed at the fancy dressing rooms which their guide said had been occupied by famous female stars. Both were startled by the towering Frankenstein monster that came lurching out of the shadows. It was only an actor in a rubber mask and platform shoes, but all the women on the tour squealed with fright as their husbands laughed.

  The Bensons took a bus to Hollywood and a taxi to Olvera Street where, after inspecting the shops, they ate lunch on the terrace of a restaurant. The Mexican food was strange, but it was pleasant to sit in the bright sunlight, watching other tourists wander past.

  They caught a bus back to Hollywood where they found a taxi and asked the driver if he could drive them to Malibu.

  “Sure can, folks! Sunset Boulevard all the way...”

  The expensive-looking homes along the edge of the ocean, from white Colonial to exotic Japanese, more than lived up to their advance expectations. The driver told them which stars lived in each mansion, but Millie suspected that he had no idea who lived in any of them.

  They drove back to Beverly Hills, this time on Wilshire Boulevard, and spent the next hour on foot, staring into the elegant shop windows.

  Harry, as they walked, became aware of a man watching them. He leaned close to Millie. “I think we’re bein’ followed, honey. Man in fancy pants. Right behind us.”

  “I know. Saw him earlier.”

  As they paused at the next shop window, Millie watched the man pass behind them. He was a good-looking young fellow who could be an actor. He wore an olive-colored tropical jacket and slacks made from some kind of madras material. She watched him cross the next corner without looking back.

  “What do we do next?” Harry-asked.

  “I want to see where the stars live here in Beverly Hills. Only I’m gettin’ hungry again. All this walking, I guess.”

  “Maybe we could have an early dinner. Go to a movie before we take the bus back to the ship.”

  “Look there!” Millie
pointed across the boulevard. “The Brown Derby! Where the movie people eat. I’ve read about it in the fan magazines.” Glancing at the jeweled watch on her plump, suntanned wrist, she said, “Guess it’s a little early for dinner.”

  “They’re open! Couple of people just coming out,” he told her.

  “Let’s try it, Harry! Have a nice dinner.”

  “Okay, honey. I could use a drink.”

  “So could I.”

  They crossed the boulevard and entered the restaurant.

  The spacious room was dim and cool, after the heat of the afternoon. Only half a dozen tables were occupied. An attractive girl escorted them to a table near one of the curtained windows, and a waiter brought menus.

  Harry ordered dry martinis and they settled down to consider what they should eat. As usual, in a new city, they looked for something they had never had before, and decided on abalone. When the waiter brought their martinis and took the order, he suggested that they start with a salad that was a specialty of the house.

  The martinis were excellent, cold and dry. As they sipped, they noticed a man come in from the street and, after a quick look around, approach their table. They looked away as he came close, aware that he was heading for the table directly across from them.

  It was the young man, handsome as an actor, they had noticed on the street.

  Harry asked the waiter for another order of martinis. While they waited, the Bensons made small talk about what they had seen—Hollywood, Olvera Street and Malibu—aware that the young man was eavesdropping.

  As she tasted her second martini, Millie realized that he was trying to catch her eye. He smiled whenever she looked anywhere near him. She had listened as he ordered a Monte Cristo sandwich, whatever that might be, and a bottle of imported beer.

  The Bensons enjoyed their salad, which the waiter served with elaborate ceremony, as the young man ate his sandwich.

  Millie saw that his clothes looked expensive.

  Harry noticed that he wore an elaborate wristwatch and a large diamond ring. He was careful, as he ate, not to catch the fellow’s eye.