Landrigan, Linda (ed) - Fifty Years of Crime and Suspense / Ландриган, Линда (ред) - 50 лет увлекательного детектива [2011, EPUB, ENG]

THE FRIGHTENING FRAMMIS by Jim Thompson THE DAY OF THE EXECUTION / День казни by Henry Slesar #8 / № 8 by Jack Ritchie NOT A LAUGHING MATTER / Нешуточное дело by Evan Hunter A GENUINE ALECTRYOMANCER by Charles Willeford GOOD NIGHT! GOOD NIGHT! / Всего хорошего, доброй ночи! by Donald E. Westlake THE COST OF KENT CASTWELL by Avram Davidson THE LONG WAY DOWN by Edward D. Hoch THE “METHOD” SHERIFF by Ed Lacy DEATH OF A NOBODY by Bill Pronzini RECIPE FOR MURDER by James Holding NEW NEIGHBOR by Talmage Powell HISTORICAL ERRORS by William Brittain A CANDLE FOR THE BAG LADY by Lawrence Block MAKING A KILLING WITH MAMA CASS by William Bankier THE TAKAMOKU JOSEKI by Sara Paretsky MY BROTHER'S WIFE by Rob Kantner FINAL RITES by Doug Allyn THE SEARCH FOR OLGA BATEAU by Stephen Wasylyk HAWKS by Connie Holt UNBEARABLE TEMPTATIONS by Jeffry Scott PRIESTS by George C. Chesbro PUSAN NIGHTS by Martin Limón BODY ENGLISH by S. J. Rozan THE MUSE by Jan Burke SINKHOLE by Carol Cail SATURDAY NIGHT AT THE MIKADO MASSAGE by Loren D. Estleman LORD OF OBSTACLES by Gregory S. Fallis BLACK SPARTACUS by James Lincoln Warren ERIE'S LAST DAY by Steve Hockensmith TABLOID PRESS by Janice Law THE O-BON CAT by I. J. Parker LEAVING NAIROBI by Ed McBain VOODOO by Rhys Bowen

Mr. and Mrs. Takamoku were a quiet, hardworking couple. Although they had lived in Chicago since the 1940s, when they were relocated from an Arizona detention camp, they spoke only halting English. Occasionally I ran into Mrs. Takamoku in the foyer of the old three-flat we both lived in on Belmont, or at the corner grocery store. We would exchange a few stilted sentences. She knew I lived alone in my third-floor apartment, and she worried about it, although her manners were too perfect for her to come right out and tell me to get myself a husband. As time passed, I learned about her son, Akira, and her daughter, Yoshio, both professionals living on the West Coast. I always inquired after them, which pleased her. With great difficulty I got her to understand that I was a private detective. This troubled her; she often wanted to know if I were doing something dangerous and would shake her head and frown as she asked. I didn’t see Mr. Takamoku often. He worked for a printer and usually left long before me in the morning. . . .