Return of the Thin Man: Two never-before-published novellas featuring Nick & Nora Charles

by Dashiell Hammett

  The Hacketts can also be credited with After the Thin Man’s closing scene, in which Nora knits what Nick suddenly realizes is a baby’s sock. For movie fans, Nora’s pregnancy was a charming turn of events, but the Hacketts had other intentions. They wanted to put an end to the Charleses’ adventures and, most important, to the possibility that they might be compelled to write another sequel. Hackett and Goodrich were bored with the Charleses’ endless wit and tired of struggling with Hammett’s complicated situations. When Stromberg refused to allow them to kill off Nick and Nora, they resorted to parenthood, which they hoped would be enough of an encumbrance to extinguish the Thin Man film franchise. Like Hammett, they’d had their fill of Nick and Nora’s fabulous fable. Nonetheless, by the fall of 1937, all three would be back at work on the Thin Man’s next installment.

  J. M. R.

  ANOTHER THIN MAN

  Headnote

  Dashiell Hammett was never shy about mining his own material. In The Maltese Falcon he reworks elements from no fewer than seven earlier stories, often derived from his own experiences as a working detective. In Another Thin Man Hammett draws heavily on one source—his penultimate Continental Op story, “The Farewell Murder,” published in Black Mask magazine in January 1930, one month before The Maltese Falcon was released in hardcover by Knopf.

  “The Farewell Murder” and Another Thin Man share wily plot devices, a partial cast of characters, and Hammett’s trademark dialogue. Both tales turn on the disappearance of a knifed body from a dark road, escalate with the death of a pet, and conclude with crooks intent on outsmarting the legal system. Both feature a querulous patriarch, a daughter with unscrupulous associates, and the staff of a country manor. But it’s clear that Hammett modified the story to suit the medium. Filmmakers in 1938 labored under notably different demands than did pulp-magazine writers in 1930. The Continental Op was a true hard-boiled character—physically and emotionally toughened. To keep order in his dark and violent world, the Op had to be cagier and in some ways more callous than the crooks. Regular readers of the pulps would barely have blinked when the Op, in “The Farewell Murder,” coolly assesses the grisly killing of a young dog and fabricates damning testimony on the body of a dying man. MGM’s filmmakers and the Thin Man’s fans would have been appalled by such calculated insensitivity in the Thin Man’s debonair leading man. Nick Charles had hard-boiled roots but an uptown sensibility, a family, and an affection for the good life. Hammett dialed back his earlier tale’s grittier aspects.

  Hammett’s May 13, 1938, screen story also includes an eighteen-page sequence from a darker partial draft. In that passage, ignored in Another Thin Man’s later development, Assistant District Attorney VanSlack attempts to use violence to coerce Nick into admitting complicity in a pair of murders. After reporters arrive and defuse the situation, the section winds to a dead end. The incident is better suited to an Op story than to film works in the late 1930s, especially given the constraints of the Production Code Administration. The PCA frowned on drinking, sexuality, and violence (presenting plenty of opportunity for criticism of the Thin Man films), as well as derogatory depictions of figures of authority. Hammett skewered law enforcement officials routinely in his fiction. In film, however, VanSlack’s ignoble behavior was guaranteed to rile the censors. The story that follows here adheres to Hammett’s more durable story line—which fueled the Hacketts’ screenplay and, ultimately, the second of the Thin Man sequels.

  J. M. R.

  ANOTHER THIN MAN

  Dashiell Hammett

  May 13, 1938

  AN ELABORATE SUITE IN A NEW YORK HOTEL

  It is late afternoon in September. Hotel maids, valets, etc., pass through, unpacking, bringing flowers, etc. Nora in negligee is at telephone with an open address book before her.

  Nora into phone: “No we can’t, dear—we’ve got to go on down to Colonel MacFay’s for the weekend as soon as we get unpacked. Colonel MacFay—you remember—used to be my father’s partner. . . . No, I really can’t, darling. If it were anything else I could persuade Nick to get out of it, but this is something about our financial affairs and you know how mercenary he is. . . . Yes, we had a lovely trip; Nick was sober in Kansas City. I’ll give you a ring Monday as soon as we get back, darling. I’m dying to have you see the baby. . . . We kind of like him.” She puts the phone down and makes a face at it.

  Nick, bringing Nora a drink, says: “You’re a bitter woman, Mom.”

  The phone rings again and Nora answers it, speaking to another friend.

  A bellboy, a youngish man with a small, cheerful, wizened face, comes in carrying an enormous bunch of flowers. When he turns from putting them on the table, he and Nick recognize each other.

  Nick frowns disapprovingly at the boy’s uniform and says: “God help honest folk in a hotel like this. How are you, Face?”

  Face grabs Nick’s hand saying: “Gee, I’m glad to see you, Nick, even if it does spoil one of the prettiest jobs I ever lined up for myself.” He unbuttons his coat, sighs, and says: “Oh well, if I could have thought of this, I’ll think up something else.”

  Nora hangs up the phone again and turns toward them.

  Nick says: “You remember Face Peppler? He came to a party of ours the last time we were in New York.”

  Nora says: “Of course.” She holds out her hand.

  Face: “Gee, I’m glad to see you, Mrs. Charles.”

  Nora looks at his unbuttoned uniform coat.

  Face: “I was hopping bells here until a minute ago when Nick seen me.”

  Nora says to Nick: “But, Nick, if he’s trying to go straight now, I don’t think you ought to—”

  Face interrupts her by laughing heartily: “Aw, Mrs. Charles, it was nothing like that. Give me two days more and I’d have had a million dollars. Well, anyway, I’d have had a pretty bank roll.”

  An assistant manager comes in, bowing primly to Nick and Nora, asking: “Is everything satisfactory? Is there anything we could do to make you more comfortable?” He sees Face and says sharply: “Thirtle!”

  Face takes off his coat and hands it to the assistant manager. “I’ve quit. I’m visiting here.” He starts to unbutton his pants. “These are my friends.”

  Nora says sweetly: “Oh yes, Mr. Peppler—Thirtle is an old friend of ours.”

  Nick puts his arm on Peppler’s back and says: “You must have a drink, old chap. I have some incredible Scotch.”

  The assistant manager bows himself out in a daze.

  Face shakes hands warmly with Nick and Nora, saying: “You people are okay for my money.”

  A nervous man in chauffeur’s livery comes in and says: “Mr. Charles?”

  Nick says: “Yes?”

  Chauffeur: “Colonel MacFay’s car, sir.”

  Nick says: “Thanks. Be down in a little while.”

  The chauffeur fidgets with his cap, then says: “Excuse me for saying so, but it’s getting a little late.”

  Nick: “I’ll try to hurry.”

  Chauffeur: “Thank you, sir.” He goes out.

  From the rear of the suite comes Asta’s voice raised in deafening complaint.

  Nora says: “Nicky’s doing something.” She hurries toward the noise, Nick and Face following her.

  In the kitchen Nick Jr. is sitting on the floor calmly chewing on a bone that he has taken from Asta. Asta is not trying to snatch the bone back, but is walking around and around the baby complaining noisily.

  Nick Jr. is a fat, year-old boy who is interested in very little besides eating and sleeping. He eats anything that comes to hand and can sleep anywhere. His vocabulary is limited, consisting chiefly of two words— “Drunk” for things he does not like and “Gimme” for things he does. He seldom laughs and never cries and does not think his parents are amusing. He ordinarily regards them with the same sort of mild curiosity or tolerant boredom with which he regards the rest of the world. He is calmly chewing his bone, playing no attention to Asta.

  Nora picks him up
, takes the bone out of his hand, and gives it to Asta, who runs off with it. The baby watches Asta out of sight without any particular expression on his face.

  Face says: “Gee, a baby! Yours?”

  Nick and Nora say: “Yes,” trying not to look proud of themselves.

  Face wiggles a finger in front of the baby’s nose, saying: “Googoo, googoo!”

  The baby looks at him blankly.

  Nick and Nora try to stir the baby into some semblance of liveliness, but with no success. After watching their antics for a moment, the baby says, “Drunk,” and turns to Face again.

  Face, a little abashed by the baby’s patient stare, asks: “A boy?”

  Nora says: “Certainly!”

  Face: “That’s great. How old is he?”

  Nora says: “Be a year next Tuesday.”

  Face: “Tuesday? Swell. Say, we’ll give him a party . . . Tuesday afternoon! I’ll get my brother to let me bring his kids over. He’s got two of the cutest little monkeys—leave it all to me. Tuesday afternoon—that’s a date.”

  Nora says confusedly: “Well, I don’t—”

  Face pats her on the back: “You leave it all to Facie, Mrs. Charles. I’ll give you a baby party you never seen the like of.”

  He goes out, picking up Nora’s address book from beside the telephone as he passes without their seeing him.

  Nora looks at Nick in consternation.

  Nick says: “We can stay down at MacFay’s until Tuesday night.”

  Nick, Nora, the nurse, Nick Jr., and Asta go down to the street, where the nervous chauffeur is standing beside a car into which a bellboy and the doorman have just finished putting their bags.

  The chauffeur, looking at the two women and the baby, asks Nick in a somewhat surprised tone: “Are you going to take them?”

  Nick says: “I don’t know how to get rid of them. Maybe we can ditch them somewhere on the road.”

  The chauffeur says: “I’m sorry, Mr. Charles, I didn’t mean to—” and breaks off to look at his watch and then at the sky. It is now early twilight, although the streetlights have not yet been turned on.

  They get into the car. The nurse sits in front with the chauffeur; Nick, Nora, the child, and dog sit in the rear.

  Nora, looking at the chauffeur, asks: “What’s the matter with him?”

  Nick replies: “We had a couple of girls lined up.”

  DISSOLVE THROUGH THE NEW YORK STREETS, OVER THE TRIBOROUGH BRIDGE, ALONG LONG ISLAND ROADS

  As darkness closes down, the chauffeur drives faster and faster until, by the time they have turned off the highway into a dark, tree-lined side road, Nick, Nora, the baby, and Asta are bouncing around on the backseat. The baby bounces peacefully without opening its eyes.

  Nick calls to the chauffeur: “You’re working too hard. If we don’t get there in three minutes, it’ll still be all right.”

  The chauffeur pays no attention to him. Nick leans forward, touches the chauffeur’s shoulder. The chauffeur jumps, jerks his head around, and almost sends the car off the road. His face and the back of his neck are covered with sweat.

  Nick says: “Not so fast, son, the baby has a hangover.”

  The chauffeur mumbles: “Yes, sir—I’m sorry,” then almost immediately begins to step up the speed again.

  Suddenly he emits an ear-piercing scream of terror and sends the car hurtling ahead. Through a window, Nick catches a glimpse of a Negro man lying on his back on the side of the road. The man’s body is arched so that its weight rests on heels and head. The five-inch handle of a knife sticks up from the left side of his breast.

  Nick yells to the chauffeur to stop. The chauffeur pays no attention, and, when Nick touches him on the shoulder, he screams again but does not slow up.

  Nick, standing up in the lurching car, puts his forearm around the chauffeur’s throat, his other hand on the wheel, finally chokes the chauffeur into submission, and stops the car. Nick Jr. opens his eyes once to look at this and then goes back to sleep.

  Nick says to the nurse: “Come back here.”

  She jumps out and gets in the rear of the car. Nick pushes the chauffeur over into the nurse’s seat and climbs in behind the wheel. The chauffeur jumps out of the car and runs off into the woods.

  Nora asks: “What happened?”

  Nick says: “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” turns the car around, and drives back to where he saw the Negro.

  There is no body there, and, with the help of the car’s lights, he can find no signs that one has been there.

  Nora asks: “What are you hunting for?”

  Nick says: “I thought I knew, but now I’ll take anything I can find. Listen, I’m willing to call the whole thing off and drive right back to New York.”

  The nurse says: “Oh yes, sir, that would be fine.”

  Nora says: “We can’t do that, Nick. Colonel MacFay expects us. What was the matter with the chauffeur, Nick?”

  Nick answers: “He was scared and now I am. Let’s go somewhere and get a drink and think this over.”

  Nora says: “The nearest drink would be at the MacFays’, but I wish you would tell me what is going on—what we came back here for.”

  Nick says: “You’re a stubborn woman, Mom.”

  He turns the car around again and drives on. Presently they come to a high grilled gate that blocks the road. When Nick has honked the horn, a gangling youth appears on the other side of the gate holding a double-barreled shotgun partly out of sight behind the gatepost. His manner is half-frightened, half-sullen.

  He asks: “What do you want?”

  Nick says: “We’re bringing back Colonel MacFay’s car.”

  The youth says: “I can see that all right, but how do I know what you want?”

  Nick says: “This is the Charles family. We have come down to spend the weekend.”

  The youth says: “Anybody can say that, but wait—I’ll see,” and vanishes into a cottage set beside the gate. His voice can be heard talking over the telephone. “He says their name is Charles—I don’t know—He looks like a pool parlor dude and he’s got a couple of ladies and a baby and a dog. Oh, all right.”

  He comes back without his shotgun and swings the gate open. They drive on to a large house set in the middle of extensive grounds.

  The front door is opened by a neat, elderly woman with a placid face. This is Mrs. Bellam, the MacFay housekeeper.

  Nick says to her: “I’m sorry, but we lost your chauffeur somewhere along the road.”

  She replies serenely: “Oh, bless you, it’s quite all right. Thomas,” indicating the servant who has appeared behind her, “will bring up your bags. I suppose you’ll want to wash up. Colonel MacFay is waiting dinner for you, but you don’t have to hurry.”

  She leads them upstairs into their rooms. One is for Nick and Nora, with a connecting bath leading to the nurse and Junior’s room.

  MACFAY LIVING ROOM

  In the MacFay living room are four people.

  Colonel Burr MacFay is a tall, scrawny man of seventy, actually still vigorous, but a hypochondriac and suspicious of those around him, though his bark is worse than his bite.

  Lois, his adopted daughter, is a girl of twenty—very pretty, with a sweet and simple manner.

  Dudley Horn, her fiancé, is a large man in his thirties. He is an engineer, MacFay’s right-hand man, rather good-looking, and affects a candid, open-faced, man’s-man manner.

  Freddie Coleman is MacFay’s secretary, a nice boy of twenty-two or twenty-three, who is very much in love with Lois and is writing a play in his spare time.

  Colonel MacFay is complaining over a glass of sherry, his voice a nasal whine: “I won’t have it. I won’t put up with it. I’m not a child and I won’t have it.”

  Horn, leaning against the mantelpiece, holding a Scotch and soda, says good-naturedly: “What’s the good of saying we won’t put up with it when we are putting up with it?”

  Freddie, leaning forward in his chair, frowning ear
nestly, says: “But maybe he did kill him.”

  MacFay, glaring at Freddie, whines impatiently: “Him! Him! I’m the one that doesn’t want to be killed.”

  Lois, patting a collie that is standing with its head on her knee, looks anxiously at her foster-father and starts to say: “But, Papa dear, you—” as Nick, Nora, and Asta come in. Asta goes over to investigate the collie.

  MacFay greets Nick and Nora: “Come in! Come in! You’re late.”

  Nick: “Had a little trouble. Did your chauffeur tell you about the black man in the road?”

  MacFay presses his lips together, says nothing.

  Nick: “He wasn’t there when we went back.”

  MacFay, explosively: “I don’t care about your black men and your roads. I care about what happens to me. I—” He breaks off, pushes his face into what is meant for a smile. “You know Dudley.”

  Nick and Nora say: “Yes,” and shake hands with Horn.

  MacFay: “And this is my adopted daughter, Lois, and my secretary, Mr. Coleman.”

  When the introductions have been acknowledged and Lois has given Nick and Nora each a drink, MacFay says: “Dinner is waiting. Come on, bring your drinks in.”

  As they go into the dining room, Lois tells the servant to feed the dogs.

  Dinner is served by two badly trained servants who keep looking over their shoulders as if frightened, and jump at every unexpected sound. One of them, turning from putting soup on the table, knocks Nick on the elbow with the butt of a pistol in his pocket.

  MacFay, who attacks his soup hungrily, complains after each spoonful. “They know this isn’t good for my stomach. I ought to have some kind of light broth, but they don’t care—nobody cares what happens to me.” He empties his plate before the others are half through and has a second helping. When he has finished that, between complaints that it is so badly cooked that it wouldn’t be food for him even if it weren’t too heavy, he bangs his spoon down on a plate and says to Nick: “I’m not a child—I won’t be frightened.”