That pistol I gave you is a piece of crap. You can’t hit anything with it, not at that distance.”
Staring at her with tears in his blinking eyes, he says, “I did.”
Conversation between Alis K and Willy
The Informer
Stichwörter: crime noir ww2 scandinavin-mysteries
Cherchez la femme, Bucky. Remember that.
James EllroyStichwörter: french noir los-angeles pulp-fiction crime-thriller noir-fiction
Evans made himself their spokesman. "Charlie and Joe," he offered. "Remember us? We brought a friend back with us this time." Girls evidently didn't count in this little subdivision of the underworld; a miscalculation many a shady character has made.
Cornell WoolrichStichwörter: noir femme-fatale noir-fiction
One of the two owners, the man who had been sitting in the front room, was stretched out in there asleep, stockinged-toes pointed at the ceiling, one hand backed defensively against his eyes to ward off the light. He'd taken off his vest and shoes, and that strap that wasn't straight enough to be a suspender-strap was dangling now around one of the knobs at the foot of the bed. It ended in a holster, with a black, cross-grained slab of metal protruding from it. Turner couldn't take his eyes off it, while the long seconds that to him were minutes toiled by.
That meant out, that black slab, more surely than any door. He had to have it. More than that, it meant a continuance of out, for so long as he had it. And he wanted out with all the desperate longing of all trapped things, blindly scratching, clawing their way through a maze to the open. To the open where the equal chance is.
Stichwörter: noir crime-fiction crime-thriller noir-fiction
The remaining chain swung down, he wrenched the door out and he was free. The last thing he heard behind him was the oncoming stomp of running feet.
Now began flight, that excruciating accompaniment to both the sleep-dream and the drug-dream as well. Down endless flights of stairs that seemed to have increased decimally since he had come up them so many days before. Four, fourteen, forty - there seemed no end to them, no bottom. Round and round he went, hand slapping at the worn guard-rail only at the turns to keep from bulleting head-on into the wall each time. The clamor had come out onto a landing high above him now, endless miles above him; a thin voice came shouting down the stair-well, "There he is! See him down there?" raising the hue and cry to the rest of the pack. Footsteps started cannonading down after him, like avenging thunder from on high. They only added wings to his effortless, almost cascading waterlike flight.
Like a drunk, he was incapable of hurting himself. At one turning he went off his feet and rippled down the whole succeeding flight of stair-ribs like a wriggling snake. Then he got up again and plunged ahead, without consciousness of pain or smart. The whole staircase-structure seemed to hitch crazily from side to side with the velocity of his descent, but it was really he that was hitching. But behind him the oncoming thunder kept gaining.
Then suddenly, after they'd kept on for hours, the stairs suddenly ended, he'd reached bottom at last. He tore out through a square of blackness at the end of the entrance-hall, and the kindly night received him, took him to itself - along with countless other things that stalk and kill and are dangerous if crossed.
He had no knowledge of where he was; if he'd ever had, he'd lost it long ago. The drums of pursuit were still beating a rolling tattoo inside the tenement. He chose a direction at random, fled down the deserted street, the wand of light from a wan street-lamp flicking him in passing, so fast did he scurry by beneath it.
Stichwörter: noir crime-fiction pursuit chase crime-thriller chased noir-fiction
His fear-inflamed mind sent the control-signal to his finger-joint to fold back. The trigger sliced back. The blast seemed to lift the booth clear off the floor, drop it down again. A pin-wheel of vacancy appeared in the glass, flinging off shards and slivers.
Cornell WoolrichStichwörter: guns noir crime-fiction shooting gun pistol crime-thriller shooter shootings noir-fiction gunplay
There were three of them in the room now, where only two had first come in. Death was in the room with the two of them.
Cornell WoolrichStichwörter: death noir crime-fiction crime-thriller noir-fiction
By doing one wrong thing, I thought I could make everything right.
Scott SmithStichwörter: noir
I didn't feel evil. I felt nervous, scared, nothing more.
Scott SmithStichwörter: noir
I’ve just been wandering the streets at night. If I came by a German soldier out alone, I would follow him, shove the pistol to the back of his head, and shoot. Once, I even did two at the same time, but they were really drunk.”
Poul-Erik aka ‘Willy’
The Informer by Steen Langstrup
Stichwörter: noir wandering ww2 scandinavian really-drunk
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