Masters of Noir, Volume 3

Lawrence Block, John D. MacDonald, Ed McBain, Hal Ellson, Fletcher Flora, Henry Slesar, Theodore Pratt, Steve Frazee, Eugene Paw

Language: English

Pages: 122

ISBN: 2:00059673

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


This anthology features some of the most famous authors writing at the peak of their careers! Volume three of Master of Noir has the following ten great stories: THE KILLERS by JOHN D. MACDONALD, ATTACK by ED McBAIN, JUST WINDOW SHOPPING by LAWRENCE BLOCK, SIX FINGERS by HAL ELLSON, STRANGER IN THE HOUSE by THEODORE PRATT, MAY I COME IN? by FLETCHER FLORA, COP FOR A DAY by HENRY SLESAR, PRECISE MOMENT by HENRY KANE, GRAVEYARD SHIFT by STEVE FRAZEE, BAIT FOR THE RED-HEAD by EUGENE PAWLEY

Last Summer at Mars Hill and Other Short Stories

Inspirations: Selections from Classic Literature

Federations

The Best New Horror 6

The Year's Best Horror Stories, Series XII

9 Tales of Space and Time

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

eyes narrowed. “What kind of favor?" "You got a big uniform department. Right?" "Yeah. So what? Army and Navy stuff. Things like that. So what do you want?" "A uniform,” Phil said easily. “That's all. A cop uniform. Only it's gotta be good." "Now look, Phil—" "Don't give me a hard time, Marty. We got too long a friendship. I want to play a joke on a friend of mine. You can fix me up with something, can't you?" The garment man frowned. “I'll tell you what. I got here some stock models. Only

herself, which was something he couldn't understand. No one on the street; his friends had gone off somewhere but he didn't mind now. He was even glad that they weren't about. His mind was blank as he moved down the block, he didn't know where he was going. But he had to walk, the unease that afflicted him more acute. He paused at the corner and looked toward the ice-cream parlor. About to pass it, he stopped and looked in. Someone had laughed. It was Cissie and he saw her smiling at him; he

against Trina's “precise moment.” Somewhere through the faint fog there was enough light to put a glint on metal—and I dropped—as five shots poured over me, and then ... nothing. Running feet ... and nothing. I got up, but I didn't even try going after him. The guy was gone. Go search for a needle in a haystack. You go—but at least you've got a chance. The needle is inanimate, and it is in the haystack. But searching for a gunman in a graveyard ... no, sir. I'll take the needle-in-the-haystack

there'd be too many others." "Smart. But you wouldn't get past me." "That's one man's opinion. Can I ask a question?" "Sure." "Who gave the orders?" "Johnny Hays." "That little prig?" "Yeah, that little prig." "Nickie know about these orders?" "Look, pal, I only work here. Johnny's one of my bosses. I don't ask my boss no questions. You going out nice and quiet? It's better for business if you go out nice and quiet. But just between you and me, I wish you wouldn't, because I'd love to

[Back to Table of Contents] GRAVEYARD SHIFT by STEVE FRAZEE Dozing in front of the microphone in the radio dispatcher's office, Joe Crestone blinked groggily when one of the heavy side doors downstairs whushed open and then started rocking back to center. Since midnight the building had been dead still. The footsteps swung out briskly on the tiles of the lobby. They made quick taps on the steel steps leading up towards the dispatcher's room. Crestone was wide awake. The clock on the radio

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