Never Kill a Cop (John B. West, 1961)

What a difference does it make when I know in advance that the book I'm about to read is going to suck! I remember reading one of the Rocky Steele series long ago and being astonished at how horrible it was. Rocky is Mike, Vicky is Velda, Lieutenant Pat Chambers is Captain Johnny Richards, etc. 

Yep, it's a shameless Spillane rip-off. With our gumshoeing tough guy (nicknamed by some cops the morgue-magnet!!) roaming the savage streets of New York, with the .45 magnum called Betsy in his mitt, grinning all the time, enforcing his particular brand of justice:

"I don't work like the law. In my court, you're guilty until proven otherwise, and from where I stand, you got a snowball's chance in hell!"

The less said about the plot, the better. It starts with the bad guys hiding a corpse in Rocky's Caddy. Huh? Yes, of all the cars in NYC, they randomly picked his. The plot then quickly thickens. No thanks to Rocky's detective skills, but more to his premonition, female hormones (??) in his belly, eerie feelings and hunches he gradually makes progress and finally comes to the realization:

"This thing gets bigger every hour. Murder first. Then prostitution, and now hot lettuce. Ain't there any end?"

If you're confused, let me explain that the hot lettuce means counterfeit money. And the way the scheme works (I think) is that prostitutes are handing back counterfeit bank notes to their customers. Since the horny shmucks are embarrassed about the whole hanky panky thing, they want to leave as soon as possible once they get their pants back on. Hence, they don't pay much attention so it's easy to distribute the lettuce. Makes more sense now?

But since this time I knew what to expect, I was ready... and I must admit this was one huge FUN to read. The whole thing is hilariously over the top and completely out of control, with Rocky always and firmly in the centre of madness. He's constantly pissed off and on the move all the time. One just cannot but not like the guy. Let me share this unforgettable episode instead of giving you some heavy character study:

There's a scene where some bad guy ambushes our man in his car. The usual stuff, threatening him under the gun and "advising" him to back off. We've been through this a zillion times before. But here, once the villain leaves the car, Rocky promptly slams his heap into reverse (one time I was thankful for the automatic transmission!) and runs the poor bastard over! I couldn't believe what I was reading, and I still cannot decide what to think about it. Is Rocky a despicably sneaky asshole or is he the ultimate badass? You're welcome to leave your opinion in the comments.

My new guilty pleasure. The next Rocky Steele is on its way while I'm typing this. 

3.5/5

Facts:

Hero:

"Come on, Mister Aloysius Algernon Steele. What else?"

That crack was a red flag. Nobody - but nobody - not even a copper - calls me by my given names unless he wants his mug splattered over the five boroughs - or unless he's got the goods on me.

The bad guy(s):

"You can't scare me, copper," he almost whispered. "Nobody's gunning for Studs Hackett. Nobody. Not unless he's got rocks in his head and wants to exchange 'em for lead."

Dames: 

First, his .45 gun, Betsy:

Funny how a guy feels safe with a rod in his mitt.

Then, his secretary, Vicky Boston:

She was not only the best secretary a guy could want, she was also a P.I. on her own... Vicky also is real stacked. For whistles. She's got just the right amounts of just the right things in just the right places, and a face so pretty there oughta be a law against it.

Then there's gun moll Miss Angelica Carson Martin, alias Angie Carson, alias Carrie Martin. Rocky goes crazy for her before even meeting her in person:

Then I heard her voice. Brother! What a dame! Her voice drew me a picture of her and my ears stood up straight. "Hello," was all she said, but it was earful.

When they meet, the whole page is filled with superlatives, but let's just summarize it into:

I'd have bet her measurements were 36-24-36, and the two peaches that stood out of her chest pointed straight at the sky like a pair of ack-ack guns.

Ack-ack guns?! The meeting, however, doesn't go too well because she drinks too much (!) and tries to fuck him (!!!), so Rocky comes to the shocking realisation:

Little devils were dancing in her eyes, and it struck me then. The chick was a nympho!

Btw, he seems to have other problems with sex and his masculinity:

I figure little Benny's my friend, too, and he's a fairy. That don't make me a freak, does it?

But let's leave that for another book review...

Location:

Dawn was breaking, and pale red and gold fingers of light made the skyline glow like it was on fire. New York. My New York.

Body count:

A bit of a bloodbath with 8 corpses altogether. The last killing is pretty cool: 

Betsy spoke to him once. One short word, and there was a period behind it - a blue-black period that jumped up smack between his insane, bloodshot eyes.

The object of desire:

I didn't know a thing except that someone had tried to make a sucker out of me, and for that he was gonna get the shaft. Everything else was secondary to that.

Blackouts:

The Empire State Building dropped out of the sky and smacked me on the side of the head.

I love the way he comes out of it:

I got the strength to open my eyes. The place was full of coppers. Johnny Richards was three of 'em, and Morris was the other three.

References:

It opens with a reference to "Death on the Rocks", one of the previous books of the series:

It all began on April 4. I'd spent the last coupla months in Africa hunting big game, and had even run into murder case.

Title:

"God help any son of a bitch stupid enough to knock off one of my boys. He'll fry - or my name ain't John S. Richards. You know the saying, Rocky - nobody kills a copy and gets away with it."

"That listens good, but it don't work," I argued.

This is the third book titled "Never Kill a Cop" on this blog! If you are curious about the other two, you can find them here and here.

Edition:

Signet #1929, First Printing, April 1961

Cover:

Incredible, we have a cover without a blonde and without a gun! And cool one too, I quite like it. The illustrator is not credited, but the style and colour palette are very similar to the one from my previous post.

Cool lines:

Rocky has a weird fascination with the animal kingdom, fish in particular. The phone, for example, is "dead mackerel", and I needed ChatGPT to explain it to me. Happy now to share it with you:

Yes, the term "dead mackerel" is a metaphorical expression used to refer to a phone that is not ringing or receiving any calls. Essentially, it implies that the phone is as inactive as a dead fish. This expression is often used humorously or informally to describe a period of quiet or lack of communication on the phone.

But there are many, many, many more hard-to-decipher metaphors that I didn't bother the poor AI robot with. Have fun:

• It was raining so hard that day a good healthy salmon could have swum straight up to heaven and spawned angelfish.
• My spirits were lower than whale dung, and that's on the bottom of the sea.
• The chick was as hot as little sister on her wedding night in one way and as cold as a well-digger's ass in the Klondike in another.
• She was as rigid as a rifle barrel.
• I was hungry as a bitch with ten pups.
• This deal was as mixed up as a Western omelet.
• The windows were as dark as Suzie Wong's past. 
• The night was as black as the inside of a wolf's mouth at midnight.
• The cabby got gabby. I needed his talk like I needed leprosy.
• He figured like a second-class Mongolian idiot.

And finally, let's wrap it up with some words of Steele wisdom:

Experience had taught me that when they fall on their back or on the seat of their pants, watch for 'em to get up again, but when they fall on their kisser, the fight's over. Forget it.