Tough as Nails: The Complete Cases of Donahue: from the Pages of Black Mask
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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.
Donahue’s, near the receiver, and Archie crowded Donahue on the other side with his gun. Donahue stammered: “I guess—you have the wrong—” The voice said: “But this is Frank—Frank Castleman. This is you, isn’t it, Donny?” “Oh, yes. Oh, Frank.” Donahue’s eyes smoldered, his throat ached. “That stuff isn’t here yet. What do you suppose—?” “It will, Frank…. I’m sorry. I’m busy!” He hung up abruptly and the two men eyed him strangely. Homer snarled: “You lyin’ two-faced bum!” “What’s the
didn’t get the phone number because he didn’t remember it. I bounced out after you and saw you make a phone call in the corner cigar store. Then you shot back to your hotel. Now you wouldn’t have shot right back here unless you had an appointment. I’ve been in this lobby ever since you came home. About half an hour ago I saw a girl come in. She acted strange, like she didn’t know the ropes here. Then she spotted the elevators and went up. I saw the marker stop at twelve—your floor. I haven’t seen
“This comes of two-timing, sister. And no tabloids to help you this time. “If I had my way—if I had my way—” His fist thumped slowly, his lip curled. “Come on, Donny,” Hinkle said. “Sure.” Donahue relaxed, turned away from the desk. They said good-bye all around, left the room, left Police Headquarters. Walking down Centre Street, Hinkle said cheerfully: “I know a nice quiet speak where we can get some good food and a bottle of Chablis.” “Yeah. Let’s,” Donahue grunted. Then he slowed down,
Into the mouthpiece he said, “Hello.” “Donahue?” “Yup.” “Stein. I’m coming up.” Donahue frowned, then said, “Come on.” He hung up, his face a little puzzled. He rose and walked over to unhook the door with the horizontal blinds. He went back to the bed, sat down on the edge of it, picked up a rumpled packet of cigarettes from the desk, took one out and put it between his lips. He tore a paper match from a book of matches, struck it, lit the cigarette and lay sidewise on one elbow. When Stein
watching. I didn’t know this egg was up here—until I heard him just now.” Donahue looked puzzled. He said: “What are you yapping about? I’ve got no pal—” “You’re just about the damnedest liar I ever ran across. What kind of a line did he hand you, Beryl?” “Oh—oh, a lot of nonsense about a man named Larrimore.” “That’s what he did me too.” “Run him out, Tony. He’s been talking about Larrimore being murdered and he’s trying to charge me with being mixed up in it.” “I’ll show him,” the fat man