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- Herausgeber: Al-Mashreq eBookstore
- Kategorie: Krimi
- Serie: Doc. Turner Series
- Sprache: Englisch
Killer's Stooge by Arthur Leo Zagat is a pulse-pounding crime thriller that delves deep into the underworld of organized crime. When a seemingly innocuous accountant becomes the unwitting accomplice to a ruthless killer, he is thrust into a deadly game of cat and mouse. As he navigates a labyrinth of deceit and danger, he must use his wits to stay one step ahead of both the law and the criminal mastermind he's been forced to aid. With twists at every turn and a race against time, this gripping novel will keep you guessing until the final page. Can he escape the clutches of the killer, or will he become the ultimate stooge in a deadly plot?
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Seitenzahl: 27
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024
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Table of Contents
Killer's Stooge
Synopsis
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Landmarks
Table of Contents
Cover
Killer's Stooge
Synopsis
"Dead witnesses never testify!" Doc Turner knew that racket rule—and when a tommy-gun burned Sutro down beside Doc's counter, he saw sudden death looming for Molly Nolan and himself...
The Spider, March 1937, with "Killer's Stooge"
1
THE man popped suddenly into the drugstore, whirled as he closed the door, and peered through it as if to make sure no one followed him.
He didn't belong on Morris Street. His hat was a high-priced fedora. His suit, too gaudy in pattern for good taste, was yet unmistakably the product of a custom tailor. The price of the diamond horseshoe in his vivid-hued tie would have fed half the slum neighborhood for a month.
When he turned, his hand coming away from under his coat lapel, his flabby face was the color of unbaked dough. In his pouch-pocketed eyes there was a curious combination of shrewdness and cruelty and livid fear.
"Good afternoon," Andrew Turner said, his gnarled hand replacing a bottle of Rhubarb and Soda someone had disturbed from the display on the sales counter. "What can I do for you?"
"Two tubes of Triple Bromide Tablets." The thin, straight lips scarcely moved. "The big size." Slender fingers, too white and too carefully manicured, threw a five-dollar bill on the counter top. Those fingers were shaking with the palsy of nerves keyed to the point of hysteria.
"Two tubes!" Doc exclaimed. "That's forty tabloids. You..."
"Yeah. I know it's forty and that's what I want. There ain't no law against selling them, is there?"
"No. But..."
"Then hand them out." A pair of white spots appeared at the corners of the man's hawk-like nose, symbols of unreasoning rage kept under control only by tremendous effort. "And step on it. I'm in a rush."
"All right," the old druggist shrugged. "It's your funeral." He turned away and shambled through the grime-stiffened curtain in the partition doorway to the pharmacy's backroom, moved wearily to the shelf where the called-for medicament was stored.
If the fellow had been one of those in whose service Doc had grown white-haired and old and feeble-seeming, he would not so readily have given in. He would have explained that bromides, while not a narcotic, are almost equally as habit-forming and, taken in large doses, almost as dangerous. He would have tried to find out the cause of his customer's terror, not from curiosity but in order to help him fight it, as through more years than he cared to recall he had helped the poverty-stricken, friendless denizens of Morris Street fight so many perils. But this was a stranger, and he looked perfectly capable of fighting his own battles.
