Noir Stories

Jack Walker had to die. The two men in the faded blue sedan didn't know why. They don't care. They followed orders – and that meant they waited in front of his house. Ten minutes later, he came out into bright morning sunshine, hurrying down the front steps. A battered black leather jacket slung over his broad shoulders and an oversized duffel bag in one hand. Like he was in a rush. Maybe like he was aware they covertly w...

Bishop’s Lounge was busy and loud and blue with smoke. I sat by myself back in a dark corner booth, contributing my share of smoke and watching Angela. She had come in with a group of work friends and they sat at one of the tables chattering and drinking wine but she seemed distracted and kept looking over at the bar. She had on a black dress to match her black bob. There was also a black wire in her black purse she didn'...

I was tailing the unfaithful husband of a neurotic client down a dark alley when someone slipped behind me and put a gun to my neck. I heard Bugsy’s voice and knew I had a problem.“Frank Danger, P.I.!” he said with a delighted baritone that rumbled like a dump truck.“Bugsy.”He laid a heavy mitt on my back and sent me staggering. Bugsy was a great guy. I thought the world of him.“Hands up!” he said, “Turn around slow.”I ca...

She pulled from her cigarette, blew a stream of white smoke over my head, and asked: “Really John, what are you implying?”“I’m not implying anything,” I said. “I’m telling you flat-out that you killed your husband.”She blinked. There was a slight clenching of the jaw. Otherwise, her face remained careless and slack. She laughed. “You’ve seen too many movies!”“Have I?”She sighed and regarded me with disappointed eyes. “Wel...

Since 1946, the same electric sign has hung out over the sidewalk in front of Dusty’s Pub. The sign features a cartoon French maid dusting the word “Dusty’s” with a feather duster.One warm summer evening in 1978, Dusty, the club’s namesake and creative genius behind the sign, clutched his chest, slid down a wall behind the bar, and expired. His widow sold Dusty’s before Dusty was cold and the pub then belonged to a small,...