The Dashiell Hammett Megapack Read online

  Table of Contents

  COPYRIGHT INFO

  A NOTE FROM THE PUBLISHER

  THE MEGAPACK SERIES

  AFRAID OF A GUN

  ARSON PLUS

  THE NEW RACKET

  BODIES PILED UP

  DEATH ON PINE STREET

  THE MAN WHO KILLED DAN ODAMS

  MIKE, ALEC, OR RUFUS

  NIGHT SHOTS

  NIGHTMARE TOWN

  ONE HOUR

  THE ROAD HOME

  RUFFIAN’S WIFE

  THE SECOND-STORY ANGEL

  THE TENTH CLUE

  WHO KILLED BOB TEAL?

  ZIGZAGS OF TREACHERY

  THE WAGES OF CRIME

  NIGHT SHADE

  THE PARTHIAN SHOT

  IMMORTALITY

  CURSE IN THE OLD MANNER

  COPYRIGHT INFO

  The Dashiell Hammett Megapack is copyright © 2013 by Wildside Press LLC. All rights reserved. For more information, contact the publisher. Cover image copyright © 2013 by Danomyte / Fotolia.

  * * * *

  “Afraid of a Gun” originally appeared in The Black Mask, March 1924.

  “Arson Plus” originally appeared in The Black Mask, 1 October 1923.

  “The New Racket” originally appeared in The Black Mask, February 15, 1924.

  “Bodies Piled Up” originally appeared in The Black Mask, 1 December 1923.

  “Death on Pine Street” originally appeared in The Black Mask, September 1924.

  “The Man Who Killed Dan Odams” originally appeared in Black Mask, 15 January 1924

  “Mike, Alec, or Rufus” originally appeared in Black Mask, January 1925

  “Night Shots” originally appeared in The Black Mask, February 1924.

  “Nightmare Town” originally appeared in Argosy All-Story Weekly, December 27, 1924.

  “One Hour” originally appeared in The Black Mask, April 1924.

  “The Road Home” originally appeared in The Black Mask, December 1922

  “Ruffian’s Wife” originally appeared in Sunset Magazine, October 1925.

  “The Second-Story Angel” originally appeared in The Black Mask, 15 November 1923.

  “The Tenth Clue” originally appeared in The Black Mask, 1 January 1924.

  “Who Killed Bob Teal?” originally appeared in True Detective Stories, November, 1924.

  “Zigzags of Treachery” originally appeared in The Black Mask, 1 March 1924.

  “The Wages of Crime” originally appeared in Brief Stories, February 1923.

  “Night Shade” originally appeared in Mystery League Magazine, October 1, 1933.

  “Curse in the Old Manor” originally appeared in The Bookman, September 1927.

  “The Parthian Shot” originally appeared in Smart Set, October 1922.

  “Immortality” originally appeared in 10 Story Book, November 1922.

  A NOTE FROM THE PUBLISHER

  Samuel Dashiell Hammett (1894-1961) was an American author of hard-boiled detective novels and short stories, screenplay writer, and political activist. Among the enduring characters he created are Sam Spade (The Maltese Falcon), Nick and Nora Charles (The Thin Man), and the Continental Op (Red Harvest and The Dain Curse).

  In addition to the significant influence his novels and stories had on film, Hammett is now widely regarded as one of the finest mystery writers of all time and was called, in his obituary in The New York Times, “the dean of the… ‘hard-boiled’ school of detective fiction”. Time magazine included Hammett’s 1929 novel Red Harvest on a list of the 100 best English-language novels published between 1923 and 2005.

  We are pleased to be able to offer a Megapack containing a selection of his famous stories (plus one poem). The two non-mystery shorts, “The Parthian Shot” and “Immortality” (both included at the very end of this volume, more as curiosities than anything else) are amongst his earlist published fiction.

  —John Betancourt

  Publisher, Wildside Press LLC

  www.wildsidepress.com

  ABOUT THE MEGAPACKS

  Over the last few years, our “Megapack” series of ebook anthologies has proved to be one of our most popular endeavors. (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 Megapacks (except where specifically credited) are a group effort. Everyone at Wildside works on them. This includes John Betancourt, Carla Coupe, Steve Coupe, Bonner Menking, Colin Azariah-Kribbs, A.E. Warren, and many of Wildside’s authors…who often suggest stories to include (and not just their own!).

  A NOTE FOR KINDLE READERS

  The Kindle versions of our Megapacks employ active tables of contents for easy navigation…please look for one before writing reviews on Amazon that complain about the lack! (They are sometimes at the ends of ebooks, depending on your reader.)

  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 series? We’d love your suggestions! You can post them on our message board at http://movies.ning.com/forum (there is an area for Wildside Press comments).

  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] or use the message boards above.

  THE MEGAPACK SERIES

  MYSTERY

  The Achmed Abdullah Megapack

  The Charlie Chan Megapack

  The Craig Kennedy Scientific Detective Megapack

  The Detective Megapack

  The Father Brown Megapack

  The Jacques Futrelle Megapack

  The Anna Katharine Green Mystery Megapack

  The Dashiell Hammett Megapack

  The First Mystery Megapack

  The Penny Parker Megapack

  The Pulp Fiction Megapack

  The Raffles Megapack

  The Victorian Mystery Megapack

  The Wilkie Collins Megapack

  GENERAL INTEREST

  The Adventure Megapack

  The Baseball Megapack

  The Christmas Megapack

  The Second Christmas Megapack

  The Classic American Short Stories Megapack

  The Classic Humor Megapack

  The Military Megapack

  SCIENCE FICTION & FANTASY

  The Edward Bellamy Megapack

  The First Reginald Bretnor Megapack

  The Philip K. Dick Megapack

  The Randall Garrett Megapack

  The Second Randall Garrett Megapack

  The Murray Leinster Megapack

  The Second Murray Leinster Megapack

  The Martian Megapack

  The Andre Norton Megapack

  The H. Beam Piper Megapack

  The Pulp Fiction Megapack

  The Mack Reynolds Megapack

  The First Science Fiction Megapack

  The Second Science Fiction Megapack

  The Third Science Fiction Megapack

  The Fourth Science Fiction Megapack

  The Fifth Science Fiction Megapack

  The Sixth Science Fiction Megapack

  The Robert Sheckley Megapack

  The Steampunk Megapack

  The Time Travel Megapack

  The Wizard of Oz Megapack

  HORROR

  The Achmed Abdullah Megapack

  The E.F. Benson Megapack

  The Second E.F. Benson Megapack

  The Cthulhu Mythos Megapack

  The Ghost Story Megapack

  The Second Ghost Story Megapack

  The Third Ghost Story Megapack

  The Horror Megapack

  The M.R. James Megapack

  The Macabre Megapack

  The Second Macabre Megapack

  The Mummy Megapack

  The Vampire Megapack

  The Werewolf Megapack

  WESTERNS

  The B.M. Bower Megapack

  The Max Brand Megapack

  The Buffalo Bill Megapack

  The Cowboy Megapack

  The Zane Grey Megapack

  The Western Megapack

  The Second Western Megapack

  The Wizard of Oz Megapack

  YOUNG ADULT

  The Boys’ Adventure Megapack

  The Dan Carter, Cub Scout Megapack

  The G.A. Henty Megapack

  The Penny Parker Megapack

  The Pinocchio Megapack

  The Rover Boys Megapack

  The Tom Corbett, Space Cadet Megapack

  The Tom Swift Megapack

  AUTHOR MEGAPACKS

  The Achmed Abdullah Megapack

  The Edward Bellamy Megapack

  The B.M. Bower Megapack

  The E.F. Benson Megapack

  The Second E.F. Benson Megapack

  The Max Brand Megapack

  The First Reginald Bretnor Megapack

  The Wilkie Collins Megapack

  The Philip K. Dick Megapack

  The Jacques Futrelle Megapack

  The Randall Garrett Megapack


  The Anna Katharine Green Megapack

  The Zane Grey Megapack

  The Second Randall Garrett Megapack

  The Dashiell Hammett Megapack

  The M.R. James Megapack

  The Murray Leinster Megapack

  The Second Murray Leinster Megapack

  The Andre Norton Megapack

  The H. Beam Piper Megapack

  The Mack Reynolds Megapack

  The Rafael Sabatini Megapack

  The Saki Megapack

  The Robert Sheckley Megapack

  OTHER COLLECTIONS YOU MAY ENJOY

  The Great Book of Wonder, by Lord Dunsany (it should have been called “The Lord Dunsany Megapack”)

  The Wildside Book of Fantasy

  The Wildside Book of Science Fiction

  Yondering: The First Borgo Press Book of Science Fiction Stories

  To the Stars—And Beyond! The Second Borgo Press Book of Science Fiction Stories

  Once Upon a Future: The Third Borgo Press Book of Science Fiction Stories

  Whodunit?—The First Borgo Press Book of Crime and Mystery Stories

  More Whodunits—The Second Borgo Press Book of Crime and Mystery Stories

  X is for Xmas: Christmas Mysteries

  AFRAID OF A GUN

  Owen Sack turned from the stove as the door of his cabin opened to admit ‘Rip’ Yust, and with the hand that did not hold the coffeepot Owen Sack motioned hospitably toward the table, where food steamed before a ready chair.

  “Hullo, Rip! Set down and go to it while it’s hot. ‘Twon’t take me but a minute to throw some more together for myself.”

  That was Owen Sack, a short man of compact wiriness, with round china-blue eyes and round ruddy cheeks, and only the thinness of his straw-coloured hair to tell of his fifty-odd years, a quiet little man whose too-eager friendliness at times suggested timidity.

  Rip Yust crossed to the table, but he paid no attention to its burden of food. Instead, he placed two big fists on the tabletop, leaned his weight on them, and scowled at Owen Sack. He was big, this Rip Yust, barrel-bodied, slope-shouldered, thick-limbed, and his usual manner was a phlegmatic sort of sullenness. But now his heavy features were twisted into a scowl.

  “They got ‘Lucky’ this morning,” he said after a moment, and his voice wasn’t the voice of one who brings news. It was accusing.

  “Who got him?”

  But Owen Sack’s eyes swerved from the other’s as he put the question, and he moistened his lips nervously. He knew who had got Rip’s brother.

  “Who do you guess?” with heavy derision. “The Prohis! You know it!”

  The little man winced.

  “Aw, Rip! How would I know it? I ain’t been to town for a week, and nobody never comes past here any more.”

  “Yeah, I wonder how you would know it.”

  Yust walked around the table, to where Owen Sack—with little globules of moisture glistening on his round face—stood, caught him by the slack of his blue shirt bosom and lifted him clear of the floor. Twice Yust shook the little man—shook him with a lack of vehemence that was more forcible than any violence could have been—and set him down on his feet again.

  “You knowed where our cache was at,” he accused, still holding the looseness of the shirt bosom in one muscular hand, “and nobody else that ain’t in with us did. The Prohis showed up there this morning and grabbed Lucky. Who told ‘em where it was? You did, you rat!”

  “I didn’t, Rip! I didn’t! I swear to—”

  Yust cut off the little man’s whimpering by placing a broad palm across his mouth.

  “Maybe you didn’t. To tell the truth, I ain’t exactly positive yet that you done it—or I wouldn’t be talking to you.” He flicked his coat aside, baring for a suggestive half-second the brown butt of a revolver that peeped out of a shoulder holster. “But it looks like it couldn’t of been nobody else. But I ain’t aiming to hurt nobody that don’t hurt me, so I’m looking around a while to make sure. But if I find out that you done it for sure—”

  He snapped his big jaws together. His right hand made as if to dart under his coat near the left armpit. He nodded with slow emphasis, and left the cabin.

  For a while Owen Sack did not move. He stood stiffly still, staring with barren blue eyes at the door through which his caller had vanished; and Owen Sack looked old now. His face held lines that had not been there before; and his body, for all its rigidity, seemed frailer.

  Presently he shook his shoulders briskly, and turned back to the stove with an appearance of having put the episode out of his mind; but immediately afterward his body drooped spiritlessly. He crossed to the chair, dropped down on it, and pushed the cooling meal back a way, to pillow his head upon his forearms.

  He shuddered now and his knees trembled, just as he had shuddered and his knees had trembled when he had helped carry Cardwell home. Cardwell, so gossip said, had talked too much about certain traffic on the Kootenai River. Cardwell had been found one morning in a thicket below Dime, with a hole in the back of his neck where a bullet had gone in and another and larger hole in front where the bullet had come out. No one could say who had fired the bullet, but gossip in Dime had made guesses, and had taken pains to keep those guesses from the ears of the Yust brothers.

  If it hadn’t been for Cardwell, Owen knew that he could have convinced Rip Yust of his own innocence. But he saw the dead man again whenever he saw one of the Yusts; and this afternoon, when Rip had come into his cabin and hurled that accusing “They got Lucky this morning” across the table, Cardwell had filled Owen Sack’s mind to the exclusion of all else—filled it with a fear that had made him talk and act as if he had in fact guided the Prohibition enforcement officers to the Yusts’ cache. And so Yust had gone away more than half convinced that his suspicions were correct.

  Rip Yust was, Owen Sack knew, a fair man according to his lights. He would do nothing until he was certain that he had the right man. Then he would strike with neither warning nor mercy.

  An eye for an eye was the code of the Rip Yusts of the world, and an enemy was one to be removed without scruple. And that Yust would not strike until he had satisfied himself that he had the right man was small comfort to Owen Sack.

  Yust was not possessed of the clearest of minds; he was not fitted, for all his patience and deliberation, to unerringly sift the false from the true. Many things that properly were meaningless might, to him, seem irrefragable evidence of Owen Sack’s guilt—now that Owen Sack’s fears had made him act the part of a witness against himself.

  And some morning Owen Sack’s body would be found as Cardwell’s had been found. Perhaps Cardwell had been unjustly suspected too.

  Owen Sack sat up straight now, squaring his shoulders and tightening his mouth in another half-hearted attempt to pull himself together. He ground his fists into his temples, and for a moment pretended to himself that he was trying to arrive at a decision, to map out a course of action. But in his heart he knew all the time that he was lying to himself. He was going to run away again. He always did. The time for making a stand was gone.

  Thirty years ago he might have done it.

  That time in a Marsh Market Space dive in Baltimore, when a dispute over a reading of the dice had left him facing a bull-dog pistol in the hands of a cockney sailor. The cockney’s hand had shaken; they had stood close together; the cockney was as frightened as he. A snatch, a blow—it would have been no trick at all. But he had, after a moment’s hesitancy, submitted; he had let the cockney not only run him out of the game but out of the city.

  His fear of ballets had been too strong for him. He wasn’t a coward (not then); a knife, which most men dread, hadn’t seemed especially fearful in those days. It travelled at a calculable and discernible rate of speed; you could see it coming; judge its speed; parry, elude it; or twist about so that its wound was shallow. And even if it struck, went deep, it was sharp and slid easily through the flesh, a clean, neat separation of the tissues.

  But a bullet, a ball of metal, hot from the gases that propelled it, hurtling invisibly toward you—nobody could say how fast—not to make a path for itself with a fine keen edge, but to hammer out a road with a dull blunt nose, driving through whatever stood in its way. A lump of hot lead battering its irresistible tunnel through flesh and sinew, splintering bones! That he could not face.

  So he had fled from the Maryland city to avoid the possibility of another meeting with the cockney sailor and his bull-dog pistol.

  And that was only the first time.

  No matter where he had gone, he had sooner or later found himself looking into the muzzle of a threatening gun. It was as if his very fear attracted the thing he feared. A dog, he had been told as a boy, would bite you if he thought you were afraid of him. It had been that way with guns.