Black Gat 47
Chuck Odlum has less excuse than many of his ilk for falling head-over-heels into the irresistible pull of the black hole that is noir. He married money, Inez Cameron, owner of the flourishing Whiteface Hotel/ski resort in New York state; valued at a cool million in 1959-dollars. An era when big, strong men like Chuck can’t embrace the sting of a woman calling the shots and claiming the breadwinner crown. Not that Inez is a bitch about it. She’s a benevolent magnate—beautiful, and gives Chuck the run of the mountain and his choice of plum jobs. In this case, ski instructor; a job Chuck loves.
Sound good? Well, in Chuck’s view it was all right until Bunny Kemp—blonde bait of the first degree—dawned on his doldrums and wiggled her way into his bruised primal brain. Bunny’s hubby, Orin Kemp, drove a cab for a living, and one day happened on a rich couple who hired him for a whole night’s shift. As they drank their way across town they let slip more than a tanked couple ought, and Orin wound up with a suitcase full of ransom money—purportedly in small, unmarked bills.
Unfortunately, Orin is making a history of abuse with Bunny. He still loves her big time, but the feeling ain’t mutual no more. So when Bunny and Chuck lock their steely blue googly eyes, their animal instincts overwhelm reason, and willpowers wither. One guilty measure leads to another and in a few short chapters, the two partner in crime as co-conspirators and murderers, one step ahead of Joe Law and cosmic karma.
There’s little doubt where things are headed, but here the journey really is the destination. It’s a bumpy joy ride up and down noir alley, littered with vibrant characters, lousy prospects, dumb luck, and spiraling terminus. A top-drawer noir revival courtesy Stark House and Black Gat Books.
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