Total Pulp Experience. These exciting pulp adventures have been beautifully reformatted for easy reading as an eBook and features every story, every editorial, and every column of the original pulp magazine.
As the magazine title promised, each issue of this pulp contained two complete and unedited detective novels. Fiction House publishers, through their Real Adventures Publishing imprint, bought up the reprint rights to detective books that had already seen publication in hardback book form, a practice which allowed them to obtain the previously-printed books much cheaper. Radio's famous "Mr. and Mrs. North" detective series began as a series of print books, six of which appeared in the Two Complete Detective Books magazine. The first of Two Complete Detective Books was released in the Winter 1939 issue. Two complete books for a quarter was quite a bargain, and the magazine was popular with customers. It lasted for 76 issues, and printed the final magazine in its run with the Spring 1954 issue. Two Complete Detective Books returns in vintage pulp tales, reissued for today’s readers in electronic format.
Table of Contents:
The Dead Tycoon
by Richard Wormser
If you told fast-talking, wide-shouldered Martin Cockren he’d he running around Los Angeles with two of the loveliest girls in the world, helping them to hang fourteen portraits of a strange man in fourteen strange places, he’d have nodded sadly. Things like that happened to him. If you added that he, Marty Cockren, would also be the target of fists, knives, bullets, gas, poison, runaway automobiles and other forms of mayhem dreamed up by parties trying to prevent the hanging of those portraits, Marty would have shrugged. Things like that also happened to him. Only if you told him he had a chance of living through all this would Marty register shock. Then he’d laugh hysterically. He knew better!
Green December Fills The Graveyard
by Maureen Sarsfield
It is an old proverb... and for the folk of the little English village of Shots Hall it was suddenly, terribly borne out. For, out of the fog that wreathed in from the Channel, out of the sloughing mud, through the wet, tangled hedges, the leafless, dripping trees — slimy and vicious — came cold death stalking, striking down its innocent, helpless victims. And, as they fell, police and people alike turned their fury-slitted eyes toward the war-shattered manor, where a lone girl chipped away at a green stone, as if she were a sculptress. And the chisel trembled as she drove it — for she knew too sickeningly well that the thread tying the corpses together was being woven into a hangnoose to fit her own white throat!
