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Dead End
Doc was stretched out on the cot, fooling with his .38 Police Special. It was an old canvas army cot like mine and soiled by I hate to think what. And of course minus sheets or blankets. Not that we needed them in the muggy room: What we needed was a little clean air.
I watched Doc for a moment. Doc the sharp dresser, Mister Dapper himself. Now he looked seedy. That wasn't like Doc. His suit was wrinkled and tacky, and he had a three-day grayish stubble on his lean face. Even his face was dirty, and his hair seemed ragged. This wasn't like Doc at all. Me, I'm a slob. But at least I was washing every day—using laundry soap for shaving cream. Doc had said he didn't want to use the razor we'd found in the house. But it was a new razor. I don't know; Doc's being so sloppy was beginning to make me uneasy.
Or perhaps it was the waiting. The room itself. The room was so small and crummy it was starting to spook me. Two cots, one broken chair, cracked walls, one naked light bulb. Of course no windows. And bugs. (If this was such and old and unused hideout, what the devil had the damn bugs been feeding on all this tune?) It all reminded me of a cell. Though the only cells I'd ever seen were the detention cells in the precinct houses—and they were luxury rooms compared to this joint.
I turned on my cot and picked up the magazine again. I'd found it under the bed. Dated March, 1951. It was full of coffee stains. Must have been good Java, the color held up for all these years. Of course, maybe it wasn't coffee. For two days I'd been trying to read the dumb stories, rereading the same lines over and over, my mind racing and thinking of a million other things — and I mean one million other things, all of them green. My brain seemed to be jumping around in my head. For no reason I thought of my kid days, of my folks, the Army time I did, when I first became a cop.
All the thoughts a way of killing time, I guess: racing around the main idea sticking in my mind like a lump — a million bucks. It's hard to realize what a million dollars is. Okay, that's a corny crack, but it's true. It's simple enough to say you'd do this and that if you had the dough—dream stuff — but when you really have a million, it's like trying to explain the sky, Sputnik: It's too big to understand, too far away to believe you really have it in hand.
When I found myself reading the same silly line, How could I tell my saintly husband what had happened to me, explain about the coming child?, for the third time, I put the magazine down. A couple of fat roaches were walking across the ceiling. How did they keep from falling down? Out of the corners of my eyes I stared at Doc for a second. He looked too much at ease. Nothing ever bothered the old fox. Folding the magazine, I threw it up at the roaches, missing them. At least it made Doc sit up with a start. He asked, "What's the matter, Bucky?"
"Trying to knock down a few of our friends." He stretched out again; he said, "They're not bothering us."
"You look like a bum. Why don't you wash, shave?"
"What for?" he asked softly. "Anybody sees me, a shave will be the last thing they will be thinking about."
I watched Doc for a moment. Doc the sharp dresser, Mister Dapper himself. Now he looked seedy. That wasn't like Doc. His suit was wrinkled and tacky, and he had a three-day grayish stubble on his lean face. Even his face was dirty, and his hair seemed ragged. This wasn't like Doc at all. Me, I'm a slob. But at least I was washing every day—using laundry soap for shaving cream. Doc had said he didn't want to use the razor we'd found in the house. But it was a new razor. I don't know; Doc's being so sloppy was beginning to make me uneasy.
Or perhaps it was the waiting. The room itself. The room was so small and crummy it was starting to spook me. Two cots, one broken chair, cracked walls, one naked light bulb. Of course no windows. And bugs. (If this was such and old and unused hideout, what the devil had the damn bugs been feeding on all this tune?) It all reminded me of a cell. Though the only cells I'd ever seen were the detention cells in the precinct houses—and they were luxury rooms compared to this joint.
I turned on my cot and picked up the magazine again. I'd found it under the bed. Dated March, 1951. It was full of coffee stains. Must have been good Java, the color held up for all these years. Of course, maybe it wasn't coffee. For two days I'd been trying to read the dumb stories, rereading the same lines over and over, my mind racing and thinking of a million other things — and I mean one million other things, all of them green. My brain seemed to be jumping around in my head. For no reason I thought of my kid days, of my folks, the Army time I did, when I first became a cop.
All the thoughts a way of killing time, I guess: racing around the main idea sticking in my mind like a lump — a million bucks. It's hard to realize what a million dollars is. Okay, that's a corny crack, but it's true. It's simple enough to say you'd do this and that if you had the dough—dream stuff — but when you really have a million, it's like trying to explain the sky, Sputnik: It's too big to understand, too far away to believe you really have it in hand.
When I found myself reading the same silly line, How could I tell my saintly husband what had happened to me, explain about the coming child?, for the third time, I put the magazine down. A couple of fat roaches were walking across the ceiling. How did they keep from falling down? Out of the corners of my eyes I stared at Doc for a second. He looked too much at ease. Nothing ever bothered the old fox. Folding the magazine, I threw it up at the roaches, missing them. At least it made Doc sit up with a start. He asked, "What's the matter, Bucky?"
"Trying to knock down a few of our friends." He stretched out again; he said, "They're not bothering us."
"You look like a bum. Why don't you wash, shave?"
"What for?" he asked softly. "Anybody sees me, a shave will be the last thing they will be thinking about."
Paperback
First published January 1, 1958
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About the author
Ed Lacy
102 books10 followersEd Lacy was the pseudonymn of Leonard (Len) S Zinberg, who was born in New York City on 25 August 1925. After his mother and father had divorced and his mother remarried, he spent his early years living in relative affluence in the outskirts of Harlem.
During the late 1920s, he attended the College of the City of New York and then, in the 1930s he travelled throughout the United States where he had a variety of odd jobs, including working as a butcher, to support himself. In the early 1940s, he returned to New York, where he married and resided for the rest of his life.
Back in New York, he was a freelance writer and some of his early published work emerged in literary journals, such as a short story titled 'A Leaner' in 'Story Magazine' in November 1936. He was also a member of the League of American Writers, on whose committee, 'Keep America Out of War Committee', he served in January 1940 during the period of the Hitler-Stalin pact.
During World War II he was Private First Class Len Zinberg, serving with the Allies’ 1943 push into Fascist Italy. As PFC Zinberg he had a story titled 'Timing' in the men’s magazine, 'Sir!' in October 1942 and his early detective story 'Pay Telephone' appeared with James M. Cain in 'Popular Detective' in October 1943.
In addition, in the 25 October 1943 issue of 'The New Republic', he won a Soldiers' Prose competition and published a war sketch. His war sketches also appeared in 'Yank', whose motto was 'written by the men ... for men in the service'.
He was later promoted to Sergeant and as such he wrote the scathing satire 'Welcome Home' about a GI returning to his childhood home and a second 'Yank' article recorded the reception in Rome on VJ-Day where 'most people were merely smiling quietly.'
And it was probably the contributions he made to such as 'Yank' and 'The New Republic' that paved the way for his 18 New Yorker pieces, published between 1945 and 1947, which in turn were instrumental in promoting his professional writing career.
As a marketing ploy he adopted Steve April as a pseudonym and he was able to
sell more stories to markets such as 'Esquire' and 'Colliers'. As Steve April he also wrote text for comic strips such as Ranger Comics (1946) and Fight Comics (1951) and a novel, Exit 13 (1954).
The Ed Lacy pseudonymn came about when the original paperback (rather than historic reprints) boom hit America and this presented him with a more lucrative writing opportunity as he turned dedicatedly to detective fiction.
His first published crime and detective novel, 'The Woman Aroused', followed in 1951 and this began an output that totalled 28 novels as well as many short stories, his 'New York Times' obituary suggested 'many hundreds', until his early death in 1968. He also wrote on boxing, both in his novels and historically.
His early books often had lurid titles and he was known to remark, 'Yes, the title made me grit my teeth, too' and the often sexy cover art perhaps did not do these books the justice they deserved as professionally they were regarded as being well written and solidly plotted.
By the mid-1950s, however, he realised he had established a strong presence in the paperback original market so in 1955 he was able to sign with the more prestigious Harper to bring out his works in hardcover and 'The Best That Ever Did It' (1955) gave him his first solid recognition as the book went into a second printing.
Included in his novel output were three separate series of detective novels featuring Dave Wintino, Toussaint Moore and Lee Hayes. A white American himself, Lacy is credited with creating 'the first credible African-American PI' in American fiction, Toussaint "Touie" Marcus Moore. His first novel featuring Moore, 'Room to Swing' (1957) won the 1958 Edgar Award for Best Novel and this clearly marked the high point of his writing career.
His short stories continued to be reprinted in Ellery Queen's Magazine and in var
During the late 1920s, he attended the College of the City of New York and then, in the 1930s he travelled throughout the United States where he had a variety of odd jobs, including working as a butcher, to support himself. In the early 1940s, he returned to New York, where he married and resided for the rest of his life.
Back in New York, he was a freelance writer and some of his early published work emerged in literary journals, such as a short story titled 'A Leaner' in 'Story Magazine' in November 1936. He was also a member of the League of American Writers, on whose committee, 'Keep America Out of War Committee', he served in January 1940 during the period of the Hitler-Stalin pact.
During World War II he was Private First Class Len Zinberg, serving with the Allies’ 1943 push into Fascist Italy. As PFC Zinberg he had a story titled 'Timing' in the men’s magazine, 'Sir!' in October 1942 and his early detective story 'Pay Telephone' appeared with James M. Cain in 'Popular Detective' in October 1943.
In addition, in the 25 October 1943 issue of 'The New Republic', he won a Soldiers' Prose competition and published a war sketch. His war sketches also appeared in 'Yank', whose motto was 'written by the men ... for men in the service'.
He was later promoted to Sergeant and as such he wrote the scathing satire 'Welcome Home' about a GI returning to his childhood home and a second 'Yank' article recorded the reception in Rome on VJ-Day where 'most people were merely smiling quietly.'
And it was probably the contributions he made to such as 'Yank' and 'The New Republic' that paved the way for his 18 New Yorker pieces, published between 1945 and 1947, which in turn were instrumental in promoting his professional writing career.
As a marketing ploy he adopted Steve April as a pseudonym and he was able to
sell more stories to markets such as 'Esquire' and 'Colliers'. As Steve April he also wrote text for comic strips such as Ranger Comics (1946) and Fight Comics (1951) and a novel, Exit 13 (1954).
The Ed Lacy pseudonymn came about when the original paperback (rather than historic reprints) boom hit America and this presented him with a more lucrative writing opportunity as he turned dedicatedly to detective fiction.
His first published crime and detective novel, 'The Woman Aroused', followed in 1951 and this began an output that totalled 28 novels as well as many short stories, his 'New York Times' obituary suggested 'many hundreds', until his early death in 1968. He also wrote on boxing, both in his novels and historically.
His early books often had lurid titles and he was known to remark, 'Yes, the title made me grit my teeth, too' and the often sexy cover art perhaps did not do these books the justice they deserved as professionally they were regarded as being well written and solidly plotted.
By the mid-1950s, however, he realised he had established a strong presence in the paperback original market so in 1955 he was able to sign with the more prestigious Harper to bring out his works in hardcover and 'The Best That Ever Did It' (1955) gave him his first solid recognition as the book went into a second printing.
Included in his novel output were three separate series of detective novels featuring Dave Wintino, Toussaint Moore and Lee Hayes. A white American himself, Lacy is credited with creating 'the first credible African-American PI' in American fiction, Toussaint "Touie" Marcus Moore. His first novel featuring Moore, 'Room to Swing' (1957) won the 1958 Edgar Award for Best Novel and this clearly marked the high point of his writing career.
His short stories continued to be reprinted in Ellery Queen's Magazine and in var
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Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews
July 21, 2017
Ed Lacy (aka Len Zinberg) wrote numerous hardboiled pulp novels in the 1950’s and 1960’s. “Dead End” (also published as “Be Careful How You Live”) is a terrific hardboiled novel that alternates flashback chapters with a present-day story of a crooked cop hiding out in a secret place with a cool million bucks waiting for the headlines to die down.
The flashbacks do a fantastic job of sketching Bucky’s personal history, going back to his childhood and finding out the man he thought was the greatest father in the world was really not his father.
Like many of Lacy’s novels, Bucky not only goes on to become a police detective, but has some back history as a boxer and is a big, hulking guy ready to go toe-to-toe with anyone who gets in his way. The flashbacks take Bucky through his life, his sudden decision to enlist, his quickie marriage, his regrets at his marriage, and his career as a lowly-paid flatfoot walking a beat, that is, until he got noticed by Doc, an older detective who took his under his wing and taught him the ways of the world.
Like the protagonists of many pulp novels, Bucky has a one-way ticket to self-destruction, but the story is told from his point of view and, as the reader, you don’t see him as really a bad guy, just another Joe plodding along, trying to make things work.
This is a really terrific read, both from the perspective of the coming- of-age flashbacks to Bucky’s partnership with Doc. This is a highly recommended read.
The flashbacks do a fantastic job of sketching Bucky’s personal history, going back to his childhood and finding out the man he thought was the greatest father in the world was really not his father.
Like many of Lacy’s novels, Bucky not only goes on to become a police detective, but has some back history as a boxer and is a big, hulking guy ready to go toe-to-toe with anyone who gets in his way. The flashbacks take Bucky through his life, his sudden decision to enlist, his quickie marriage, his regrets at his marriage, and his career as a lowly-paid flatfoot walking a beat, that is, until he got noticed by Doc, an older detective who took his under his wing and taught him the ways of the world.
Like the protagonists of many pulp novels, Bucky has a one-way ticket to self-destruction, but the story is told from his point of view and, as the reader, you don’t see him as really a bad guy, just another Joe plodding along, trying to make things work.
This is a really terrific read, both from the perspective of the coming- of-age flashbacks to Bucky’s partnership with Doc. This is a highly recommended read.
January 2, 2019
From 1960. This is a phenomenal novel. Well written, incredibly well plotted, structured. So good it is surprising it is not more known, for vintage crime, anyway.
January 9, 2025
I have read a fair number of Ed Lacy (Len Zinberg) paperbacks over the years and enjoyed them. Dead End is another one I can add to my list of keepers. He writes quite well. Lacy began his career as a literary writer and wrote a column for The New Yorker. This novel features a pair of bent cops trying to heist a million dollars. Things go awry since it is a crime noir. The Doc character is the most interesting of the two cops.
February 20, 2019
(This review originally appeared on my Paperback Warrior Blog - the internet’s best resource for vintage hardboiled crime fiction reviews.)
Under the pen name of Ed Lacy, author Len Zinberg wrote 28 novels between the years 1951 and 1969. In December 1958, “Mercury Mystery Magazine” ran a 100-page novella by Lacy called “Time Wounds All Heels.” The story was expanded and published as a hardcover in 1958 as “Be Careful How You Live” which was reprinted in 1959 as a paperback titled “Dead End.” It’s currently available as a cheap eBook in all formats.
As the story begins, two cops named Doc and Bucky (our narrator) are laying low in a filthy, roach-infested hideout with a million bucks cash in three ratty suitcases. How did they get there? What’s the story with all that cash?
Lacy slowplays the explanations over the course of the novel comprising mostly of flashbacks from Bucky’s youth and police career leading up to the million dollars in ill-gotten gains. The narrator cop grew up as a hard-scrabble youth with a troubled family background who learned to use his fists early in life. Eventually, he discovers police work and drifts into a life with problematic choices involving on-the-job graft.
Bucky’s moral descent is hastened once he latches onto Doc, a fellow police detective who becomes a father figure to Bucky. Doc’s expertise is making police work lucrative while also working hard to fight crime and solve important cases. All of this comes to a head when a big case brings a million bucks into the officers’ lives quite unexpectedly.
It took a bit for this novel to really grab me, but once it took off, it was a fantastic read. I suspect that the original 100-page novella was about perfect, and it was later filled out to novel length by adding flashbacks of Bucky’s youth and filler scenes delving into his complex relationship with his parents.
Either way, the crime story at the core of this novel is compelling as hell. Lacy’s writing is predictably top-notch, and the plot was never predictable. Mostly, I’m thrilled to see that there are people hard at work keeping Lacy’s fiction alive for today’s readers. This one is highly recommended for fans of fast-moving 1950s hardboiled crime fiction.
Under the pen name of Ed Lacy, author Len Zinberg wrote 28 novels between the years 1951 and 1969. In December 1958, “Mercury Mystery Magazine” ran a 100-page novella by Lacy called “Time Wounds All Heels.” The story was expanded and published as a hardcover in 1958 as “Be Careful How You Live” which was reprinted in 1959 as a paperback titled “Dead End.” It’s currently available as a cheap eBook in all formats.
As the story begins, two cops named Doc and Bucky (our narrator) are laying low in a filthy, roach-infested hideout with a million bucks cash in three ratty suitcases. How did they get there? What’s the story with all that cash?
Lacy slowplays the explanations over the course of the novel comprising mostly of flashbacks from Bucky’s youth and police career leading up to the million dollars in ill-gotten gains. The narrator cop grew up as a hard-scrabble youth with a troubled family background who learned to use his fists early in life. Eventually, he discovers police work and drifts into a life with problematic choices involving on-the-job graft.
Bucky’s moral descent is hastened once he latches onto Doc, a fellow police detective who becomes a father figure to Bucky. Doc’s expertise is making police work lucrative while also working hard to fight crime and solve important cases. All of this comes to a head when a big case brings a million bucks into the officers’ lives quite unexpectedly.
It took a bit for this novel to really grab me, but once it took off, it was a fantastic read. I suspect that the original 100-page novella was about perfect, and it was later filled out to novel length by adding flashbacks of Bucky’s youth and filler scenes delving into his complex relationship with his parents.
Either way, the crime story at the core of this novel is compelling as hell. Lacy’s writing is predictably top-notch, and the plot was never predictable. Mostly, I’m thrilled to see that there are people hard at work keeping Lacy’s fiction alive for today’s readers. This one is highly recommended for fans of fast-moving 1950s hardboiled crime fiction.
July 10, 2022
Shocked at how good this was. Can easily hold its own with any of the other greats from this era.
January 1, 2025
i think after few chapters the story met its dead end and was moving nowhere
August 24, 2025
I just tried to review this and it was somehow erased. It was at least six paragraphs long. So let me just say that it was a great crime novel; a first person narrative about two detectives holed up with a million ill-gotten dollars. There was a great deal of back and forth storytelling, but all very readable, with the last thirty or so pages kicking it into overdrive with at least two surprises you probably wont see coming. There are dark deeds commited. Darker by most standards, especially were deeds done by crooked cops in vintage crime novels are concerned. My first Ed Lacy, and I'll be reading more
August 12, 2016
What a breathtaking excellent ride.I am wondering why ED Lacy is not that popular.His novels are so engaging ,you can't put them down.I am glad that i stumbled upon ed lacy by chance and he is now my absolute favorite.I have read three,and i wish to finish all his novels within couple of months,because i just can't live without them.
This one tells an exciting tale of down the luck broke army man who is a 'bastard' and made his way to a police detective only to find himself entangled as a fall guy.Story is so gripping it will keep you turning pages and guessing what will happen next.
This one tells an exciting tale of down the luck broke army man who is a 'bastard' and made his way to a police detective only to find himself entangled as a fall guy.Story is so gripping it will keep you turning pages and guessing what will happen next.
Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews