by Hank Janson
‘You must answer the question,’ said the judge.
Gunn jerked his head sideways to stare at him. His lips moved but his tongue seemed too big. He made another effort. The words kinda tore themselves from his mouth. ‘It was self-defence,’ he burst out.
A kinda gasp ran around the courtroom. Bailey followed up his advantage immediately.
‘Be more explicit. You say it was self-defence. But who was trying to defend himself? Who shot Manton? Who put those two bullets in his chest?’
Gunn’s face was haggard. ‘I had nothing to do with it,’ he quavered. ‘Self-defence. Me and Jenks were only trying to help.’
Bailey boomed forcibly: ‘Who killed Manton?’
Gunn hung his head. ‘It was Frisk,’ he said. ‘He shot him. It was Frisk.’
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The DA asked that the charges against me should be dropped, and immediately instituted proceedings against Frisk for the murder of Manton.
But I wasn’t released. I was escorted to a cell beneath the courtroom and was there for maybe an hour before Jordan, my solicitor, smiling cheerfully and rubbing his hands with satisfaction, paid me a visit.
‘I guess that takes care of Frisk,’ he said with satisfaction.
He was flushed with triumph. I wasn’t. I’d known all along I was innocent. The verdict in my favour didn’t make me feel triumphant, only mean and bitter.
‘How soon do I get out of here?’
He eyed me cunningly. ‘You have to appear against Frisk as a witness, of course. Then there’s the question of you kidnapping Frisk, imprisoning him. For a certainty, the DA won’t prefer charges against you on that score.’
‘How soon do I get out of here?’
He looked at the ceiling, looked at his fingernails, pursed his lips. ‘There’s still the charge of kidnapping Helen Gaskin.’
‘I didn’t kidnap her,’ I said. ‘I had no choice but to keep her quiet while I cleared myself.’
‘It was kidnapping,’ he said ominously.
I sighed and my shoulders drooped. ‘They’re gonna press that charge?’
He nodded slowly. ‘They probably will.’
‘How long …?’
He shrugged. ‘If the case goes against you, maybe twenty years.’ He smiled encouragingly. ‘But then, the case may not be pressed.’
I glanced up at him quickly. I had the uneasy feeling he was playing with me.
‘You can get out on bail,’ he said.
‘Bail,’ I said eagerly. Then my heart sank. ‘How much?’
‘Twenty-five grand.’
‘Jeepers,’ I groaned.
‘I’ll fix it,’ he said.
I stared at him. ‘What are you talking about?’ I demanded. ‘I ain’t got no twenty-five grand.’
‘I can arrange something.’
I got to my feet. ‘Listen, Mr Jordan,’ I said grimly. ‘What makes? You’ve had private dicks digging away for weeks getting evidence that got me off a murder rap. You’ve employed a New York attorney whose fees are fabulous. I’ve given you all the dough I had, not quite a thousand dollars. Now you’re telling me you’re gonna put up bail of twenty-five grand. What’s your angle? I don’t see how you make a nickel out of it.’
He smiled engagingly and evasively, called for the warder to let him out of the cell, and his last words were: ‘Don’t worry about the bail, I’ll fix it.’
He did, too. Half-an-hour later, they came for me, took me upstairs to the office and made me sign a bond certificate.
I stared at them incredulously. ‘You mean I can go now?’
The desk sergeant nodded. ‘Yeah. We’ll send for you when we want you.’
I went out in a kinda daze, caught a taxi and automatically gave him the address of my house.
Three hours ago I’d been in court, listening to the evidence piling up against me. Now a miracle had happened. I was as good as cleared on two charges and out on bail for the charge of kidnapping Helen Gaskin.
It looked like I wasn’t gonna get my revenge on Frisk. But it also looked as though Frisk was gonna get his comeuppance anyway. I’d be the principal witness against him. I’d assert the killing of Manton was sheer, cold-blooded murder. The way Frisk tried to frame me as the killer would also rate against him. I was getting my revenge legally, my own evidence and actions sending Frisk to the chair, or, if he was lucky, to a long term of imprisonment. If he survived, he would venture out into the world fifteen or twenty years from now, white-haired, shoulders bowed and with a negligible future. I paid off the driver at the foot of the drive, walked up to the grim and empty house. Seeing it again made me think of Helen, made me remember her blue eyes and her glistening hair. A fleeting mental picture of soft white thighs flecked with black lace underwear tortured me.
There was a kinda dull heaviness inside me as I climbed the stairs. I wouldn’t be seeing Helen again. It was strange how you could go a whole lifetime and never think about anyone very much. Then, after only five days, not to be able to stop thinking about them.
I opened the door of my room, pushed inside.
She was there, sitting on the bed just the way I’d remembered seeing her during those last, sleepless nights when I’d been waiting for trial.
I gaped at her. Her blue eyes smiled back. She said, softly: ‘I was waiting for you, Lee.’
I gulped, stared at her like she was a vision. She was, too. A vision of beauty, no longer scruffy and dishevelled, but carefully turned out, hair well brushed and rippling like spun-gold, a flame-red, beautifully tailored dress, sheer silk stockings and high-heeled shoes.
‘Helen!’ I gasped.
‘Congratulations, Lee,’ she said gently. ‘I knew you’d win through. You had to be able to win through if you were telling the truth.’
I still couldn’t believe she was really there. But at the same time, my mind was working quickly, piecing fragments of ideas together. How had she known I was going to be released? I hadn’t known myself! Why should my solicitor have employed the most expensive and famous attorney in New York?
‘Helen,’ I said, with a note of understanding in my voice. ‘You did that. You’ve been paying my legal expenses.’
‘You’re not angry, are you, Lee?’ Her blue eyes were soft and expectant, her voice low and inviting.
‘You shouldn’t have done it.’
She pouted. ‘But it was my fault you were in that jam. I had to help you. I had to do what I could.’
‘It wasn’t your fault,’ I said. ‘You had a right to get away if you could. I was holding you against your will.’
She looked at me strangely. ‘They won’t press the kidnapping charge,’ she said. ‘That’ll be dropped.’
‘I’m out on bail,’ I said. ‘Twenty-five grand bail.’ I narrowed my eyes. ‘I suppose you put up the bail, too?’
She nodded, eyes smiling. ‘But they’ll drop that, Lee,’ she said. ‘They’ll drop the charge of kidnapping. If they won’t drop it of their own accord, we’ll make them drop it.’
I stared at her. ‘Maybe you won’t press the charges, but the cops will.’
‘Not necessarily, Lee,’ she said gently. ‘Not if I wasn’t … kidnapped!’
I stared at her, trying to understand her meaning. She smiled back, artfully. Then she moved subtly, so that for the first time I could see the silver glint around her waist, realized she’d chained herself the way I’d chained her.
‘You won’t need a chain to keep me here, Lee. But I’ll wear it if you want.’
I crossed to her quickly, examined the chain. ‘Where’s the key?’ I demanded.
She shrugged. ‘Does it matter?’
My head was in a whirl. Standing close to her, I could smell her perfume, see the softness of her skin, see the deep meaning in her eyes and remember the soft touch of her when I kissed her. ‘Listen, Helen,’ I panted. ‘I don’t know what all this is about and …’
‘Don’t you?’ she interrupted. Her blue eyes were staring into m
ine with an intensity of feeling, as though she was willing me to do something. I had a pretty good idea what it was. I wanted to do it. I moistened my dry lips with my tongue. ‘Listen, Helen,’ I said. ‘You don’t mean that …’
‘If it’s what you want, Lee,’ she said quietly. ‘The cops can’t imprison a man for kidnapping his own wife, can they?’
The beating of my heart was so loud it was deafening me. It was all too good to be true. I couldn’t begin to believe this was happening.
When I didn’t answer immediately, her blue eyes clouded over, her soft voice sounded choked. ‘That is ... if you want me, Lee.’
If I wanted her!
I’d never wanted anything more. I didn’t talk. I didn’t have to. I moved in on her quickly, and there was fusion of dream and reality, the uniting of memories with reality. Her fingers were gripping my neck and the whiteness of her skin merged from the flame-red of her dress.
It was all over now. Frisk and revenge, the brutal planning and the grim ruthlessness. It was all over.
But there was a new beginning, too. Beginning right now. Without bitterness and remorse, but with happiness and new life.
Her fingers had unexpected strength and frantic eagerness as she pulled my head towards her. ‘Kiss me, Lee,’ she panted. ‘Kiss me.’
The Trials Of Hank Janson
Steve Holland
In January 1954 twelve jurors sat at the Old Bailey to hear charges of obscenity against seven crime novels written by the immensely popular Hank Janson, whose sexy thrillers had sold five million copies in only six years. Hank’s publisher and distributor were found guilty and imprisoned and an arrest warrant put out for author.
The Trials of Hank Janson presents a full biography of that author – in reality, a man named Stephen D Frances – from his early life, through the highs and lows he experienced with the Janson novels, to his eventual decline and death in Spain, cut off from the character he had created.
In addition, respected researcher and pulp fiction historian Steve Holland gives, for the first time, a comprehensive account of the early 1950s Home Office crackdown on so-called ‘obscene’ paperbacks – of which the Janson novels were the prime examples – during which some 350,000 books and magazines were destroyed on magistrates’ instructions: a true story less notorious but no less remarkable than the controversy surrounding Lady Chatterley’s Lover.
The Trials of Hank Janson also details the full publishing history of the Janson stories, from 1946 right up to the present day with Telos’s reissue series.
‘An intriguing history of a long-gone literary genre and the
downfall of a bestselling author.’ Sue Baker, Publishing News ‘Highly Recommended’
‘An immensely readable book, fleshing out the story of Frances and his creation with the sort of background minutiae that bibliophiles adore, plus copious footnotes and appendices.’ Book and Magazine Collector
THE CLASSIC HANK JANSON
The first original Hank Janson book appeared in 1946, and the last in 1971. However, the classic era on which we are focusing in the Telos reissue series lasted from 1946 to 1953. The following is a checklist of those books, which were subdivided into five main series and a number of “specials”. The titles so far reissued by Telos are indicated by way of an asterisk.
PRE-SERIES BOOKS
When Dames Get Tough (1946)
Scarred Faces (1947)
SERIES ONE
1)This Woman Is Death (1948)
2) Lady, Mind That Corpse (1948)
3) Gun Moll For Hire (1948)
4) No Regrets For Clara (194)
5) Smart Girls Don’t Talk (1949)
6) Lilies For My Lovely (1949)
7) Blonde On The Spot (1949)
8) Honey, Take My Gun (1949)
9) Sweetheart, Here’s Your Grave (1949)
10) Gunsmoke In Her Eyes (1949)
11) Angel, Shoot To Kill (1949)
12) Slay-Ride For Cutie (1949)
SERIES TWO
13) Sister, Don’t Hate Me (1949)
14) Some Look Better Dead (1950)
15) Sweetie, Hold Me Tight (1950)
16) Torment For Trixie (1950)
17) Don’t Dare Me, Sugar (1950)
18)The Lady Has A Scar (1950)
19)The Jane With The Green Eyes (1950)
20) Lola Brought Her Wreath (1950)
21) Lady, Toll The Bell (1950)
22)The Bride Wore Weeds (1950)
23) Don’t Mourn Me Toots (1951)
24) This Dame Dies Soon (1951)
SERIES THREE
25) Baby, Don’t Dare Squeal (1951)
26) Death Wore A Petticoat (1951)
27) Hotsy, You’ll Be Chilled (1951)
28) It’s Always Eve That Weeps (1951)
29) Frails Can Be So Tough (1951)
30) Milady Took The Rap (1951)
31) Women Hate Till Death (1951) *
32) Broads Don’t Scare Easy (1951)
33) Skirts Bring Me Sorrow (1951)
34) Sadie Don’t Cry Now (1952)
35) The Filly Wore A Rod (1952)
36) Kill Her If You Can (1952)
SERIES FOUR
37) Murder (1952)
38) Conflict (1952)
39) Tension (1952)
40) Whiplash (1952)
41) Accused (1952)
42) Killer (1952)
43) Suspense (1952)
44) Pursuit (1953)
45) Vengeance (1953)
46) Torment (1953) *
47) Amok (1953)
48) Corruption (1953)
SERIES FIVE
49) Silken Menace (1953)
50) Nyloned Avenger (1953)
SPECIALS
Auctioned (1952)
Persian Pride (1952)
Desert Fury (1953)
One Man In His Time (1953)
Unseen Assassin (1953)
Deadly Mission (1953)
Notes
[←1 ]
Heade’s cover illustration for Honey, Take My Gun was also used on the American Checkerbook reprint of another Hank Janson novel, Lady, Mind That Corpse.
