"Two Bad Hamiltons and a Hirsute Jackson," by Robert Mangeot, in Alfred Hitchcock's mystery Magazine, May 2015.
Mr. Mangeot makes his second appearance here. This story is all about language and character.
The character is Vi Celucci, and she is an Optimizer, which means she specializes in making your life and workplace more efficient, healthier, and better organized. Obsession is either funny or tragic, depending on how close you are standing to the fallout, and Ms. Celucci is obsessive about her field, and maybe about everything else.
She received two counterfeit ten dollar bills and feels the authorities are not up to the job of finding the counterfeiters. "The Secret Service guy asked me to repeat myself, which did not bode well for either his cognitive or listening skills."
So she decides to crack the case herself. And this is a formidable lady, determined, and very sure of herself.
I shook my head, and I only shook my head one way: hard right, soft return. Anything more was wasted motion.
Hilarious.
Showing posts with label AHMM. Show all posts
Showing posts with label AHMM. Show all posts
Sunday, April 19, 2015
Sunday, April 12, 2015
The Continental Opposite, by Evan Lewis
"The Continental Opposite," by Evan Lewis, in Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine, May 2015.
This dude Lewis is turning into a major threat. First there were his stories about Skyler Hobbs,who thinks he is the reincarnation of Sherlock Holmes. Then tales of Davy Crockett's ghost, who harasses his descendents into solving crimes. And now he has revived Dashiell Hammett's famous character the Continental Op.
Brief pause for confusion from the readers. But Hammett's family owns the copyright! And Lopresti doesn't like fan fiction (Author B writing new stories with the characters of Author A)!
True. But I am sometimes a sucker for reboots, in which Author B rethinks the original and comes up with a new twist.
This story takes place in the fifties, decades after the Op's last appearance. The main character is a young detective named Peter Collins (he notes bitterly that his father deliberately gave him a name that is gangland slang for "nobody"). Peter works for the Portland, Oregon branch of a national detective agency and when he accuses his boss of corruption the company sends in a retired op who used to work for the San Francisco branch("sometime in the forties Continental had put him out to pasture, and he'd spent the years since killing a vegetable garden, sneering at golf course, and not catching fish.") . Peter finds him sinister and refers to him as the Old Man.
Hmm. In Hammett's stories the Op's boss was the Old Man, but it is clearly not the same person. In fact, this new guy strongly resembles Hammett's hero, much older and, if possible, more cynical.
Now let's address the copyright issue. Does Lewis use the name of the characters? No, because the Op never had one. (And Old Man is hardly a unique moniker either.) The Op worked for the Continental Detective Agency. Peter works for Continental Investigations, which recently changed its name from something or other.
A brilliant story, and the first of a series. I can hardly wait.
This dude Lewis is turning into a major threat. First there were his stories about Skyler Hobbs,who thinks he is the reincarnation of Sherlock Holmes. Then tales of Davy Crockett's ghost, who harasses his descendents into solving crimes. And now he has revived Dashiell Hammett's famous character the Continental Op.
Brief pause for confusion from the readers. But Hammett's family owns the copyright! And Lopresti doesn't like fan fiction (Author B writing new stories with the characters of Author A)!
True. But I am sometimes a sucker for reboots, in which Author B rethinks the original and comes up with a new twist.
This story takes place in the fifties, decades after the Op's last appearance. The main character is a young detective named Peter Collins (he notes bitterly that his father deliberately gave him a name that is gangland slang for "nobody"). Peter works for the Portland, Oregon branch of a national detective agency and when he accuses his boss of corruption the company sends in a retired op who used to work for the San Francisco branch("sometime in the forties Continental had put him out to pasture, and he'd spent the years since killing a vegetable garden, sneering at golf course, and not catching fish.") . Peter finds him sinister and refers to him as the Old Man.
Hmm. In Hammett's stories the Op's boss was the Old Man, but it is clearly not the same person. In fact, this new guy strongly resembles Hammett's hero, much older and, if possible, more cynical.
Now let's address the copyright issue. Does Lewis use the name of the characters? No, because the Op never had one. (And Old Man is hardly a unique moniker either.) The Op worked for the Continental Detective Agency. Peter works for Continental Investigations, which recently changed its name from something or other.
A brilliant story, and the first of a series. I can hardly wait.
Sunday, March 15, 2015
First Dragon, by Martin Limón
"First Dragon," by Martin Limón, in Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine, April 2015.
I think this may be the first fiction my friend Martin Limón has written that is not set in Korea. For
this new series he slipped a few miles over the border into Manchuria.
Il Yong, the title character, is the son of an American serviceman and a Korean mother, who did various classified jobs for Defense contractor and is now the head of security for a medical missionary group. They are supposed to be helping the Chinese peasants but they don't turn away starving North Korean refugees who slip over from the Hermit Kingdom.
But that's not the current problem. A group of Manchurian bandits have kidnapped an American nurse. Il Yong has both professional and personal reasons to want to get her back, no matter the danger.
Fascinating story.
I think this may be the first fiction my friend Martin Limón has written that is not set in Korea. For
this new series he slipped a few miles over the border into Manchuria.
Il Yong, the title character, is the son of an American serviceman and a Korean mother, who did various classified jobs for Defense contractor and is now the head of security for a medical missionary group. They are supposed to be helping the Chinese peasants but they don't turn away starving North Korean refugees who slip over from the Hermit Kingdom.
But that's not the current problem. A group of Manchurian bandits have kidnapped an American nurse. Il Yong has both professional and personal reasons to want to get her back, no matter the danger.
Fascinating story.
Sunday, February 8, 2015
The Crossing, by Brendan Dubois
"The Crossing," by Brendan DuBois, in Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine, January-February, 2015.
So a trio of mobsters decide to slip out of the country a few hours ahead of an indictment. A seaplane lands them on an island on a lake by the Canadian border. Now they just have to wait for their friend to arrive with a boat to slip them across.
Sure, there is a resident on the island, but she's just a beautiful young woman, grading papers. Surely she can't cause any trouble for three armed hoodlums.
What could possibly go wrong?
This is Mr. DuBois's fifth appearance in my best-of-the-week column. I guess I like his stuff.
So a trio of mobsters decide to slip out of the country a few hours ahead of an indictment. A seaplane lands them on an island on a lake by the Canadian border. Now they just have to wait for their friend to arrive with a boat to slip them across.
Sure, there is a resident on the island, but she's just a beautiful young woman, grading papers. Surely she can't cause any trouble for three armed hoodlums.
What could possibly go wrong?
This is Mr. DuBois's fifth appearance in my best-of-the-week column. I guess I like his stuff.
Sunday, February 1, 2015
The Really Big Ka-Boom, by Kristine Kathryn Rusch
"The Really Big Ka-Boom," by Kristine Kathryn Rusch, in Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine, January/February, 2015.
Apologies for misspelling Ms. Rusch's name, now fixed.
I may have to revise my rule about what makes a story one of my favorites. I have said they tend to have at least one of three characteristics: a great concept, a twist ending, or heightened language. Ms. Rusch has reminded me of a fourth method to reach the winner's circle.
Great characters.
The plot of this story is not brilliant, but that doesn't matter. The characters carry it. (Let's face it: Wolfe and Archie lifted Rex Stout above some pretty poor plots.)
The narrator is Spade, a three-hundred-fifty pound retired software millionaire whose life revolves around science fiction conventions, for which he provides accounting skills. His soulmate (he wishes) is Paladin, a young private eye who is everything he isn't (except dumb and socially competent): she is small, beautiful, perpetually angry, and rash. Clearly they balance each other out.
In this story they wind up in Portland, Oregon at Christmas time, accompanied by Caspar, a homeless thirteen-year-old computer whiz they rescued in an earlier adventure. The main story begins when they go out to eat and a nearby building explodes. And Paladin, as Spade notes, is the sort of person who rushes into a burning building.
Now, my first paragraph did not mean that Rusch does not provide some wonderful language in this story. Try out this paragraph:
Paramedics had moved a lot of the people Paladin saved, sorting them as if they were damaged collectibles and someone had to grade them: Fair, Very Fair, Good. The folks in Mint condition stood to one side, and those who were judged Poor had already been stuffed into ambulances and driven to hospitals.
Lovely.
Apologies for misspelling Ms. Rusch's name, now fixed.
I may have to revise my rule about what makes a story one of my favorites. I have said they tend to have at least one of three characteristics: a great concept, a twist ending, or heightened language. Ms. Rusch has reminded me of a fourth method to reach the winner's circle.
Great characters.
The plot of this story is not brilliant, but that doesn't matter. The characters carry it. (Let's face it: Wolfe and Archie lifted Rex Stout above some pretty poor plots.)
The narrator is Spade, a three-hundred-fifty pound retired software millionaire whose life revolves around science fiction conventions, for which he provides accounting skills. His soulmate (he wishes) is Paladin, a young private eye who is everything he isn't (except dumb and socially competent): she is small, beautiful, perpetually angry, and rash. Clearly they balance each other out.
In this story they wind up in Portland, Oregon at Christmas time, accompanied by Caspar, a homeless thirteen-year-old computer whiz they rescued in an earlier adventure. The main story begins when they go out to eat and a nearby building explodes. And Paladin, as Spade notes, is the sort of person who rushes into a burning building.
Now, my first paragraph did not mean that Rusch does not provide some wonderful language in this story. Try out this paragraph:
Paramedics had moved a lot of the people Paladin saved, sorting them as if they were damaged collectibles and someone had to grade them: Fair, Very Fair, Good. The folks in Mint condition stood to one side, and those who were judged Poor had already been stuffed into ambulances and driven to hospitals.
Lovely.
Sunday, September 7, 2014
Crossing the River Styx, by Kristine Kathryn Rusch
"Crossing the River Styx," by Kristine Kathryn Rusch, in Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine, November 2014.
They'd left, all of them. They'd left, taking the light with them. Now Edith huddled in the darkest place she'd ever been in, her face, hands, and shirtwaist soaked with blood. Frank was dead beside her. She'd known that from the moment the shot hit him. Hot blood spurted out of him, coating her, and he made all kinds of groaning sounds.
Someone shouted, "Murder!" and the others ran as if their lives depended on it...
Well. That's an exciting way to start a story, isn't it?
The illustration clued me in to the fact that this takes place in the 1920s, which made me think we were in a Bonnie-and-Clyde scenario, but not quite. Edith is a proper young woman on her honeymoon and Frank has taken her to the Oregon Caves. That's where the extreme darkness comes in.
Now Edith has to find a way out of the cave by herself (crossing a creek known as, yes River Styx) and figure out whether she is in danger from the men who fought with her husband.
The other key viewpoint character is Albert, a mechanic employed by the Forest Service that runs the caves. They will both learn something about themselves before the night is over.
As usual, a very good story from Ms. Rusch.
They'd left, all of them. They'd left, taking the light with them. Now Edith huddled in the darkest place she'd ever been in, her face, hands, and shirtwaist soaked with blood. Frank was dead beside her. She'd known that from the moment the shot hit him. Hot blood spurted out of him, coating her, and he made all kinds of groaning sounds.
Someone shouted, "Murder!" and the others ran as if their lives depended on it...
Well. That's an exciting way to start a story, isn't it?
The illustration clued me in to the fact that this takes place in the 1920s, which made me think we were in a Bonnie-and-Clyde scenario, but not quite. Edith is a proper young woman on her honeymoon and Frank has taken her to the Oregon Caves. That's where the extreme darkness comes in.
Now Edith has to find a way out of the cave by herself (crossing a creek known as, yes River Styx) and figure out whether she is in danger from the men who fought with her husband.
The other key viewpoint character is Albert, a mechanic employed by the Forest Service that runs the caves. They will both learn something about themselves before the night is over.
As usual, a very good story from Ms. Rusch.
Sunday, August 10, 2014
Francetta Repays Her Debt To Society, by Susan Oleksiw
"Francetta Repays Her Debt To Society," by Susan Oleksiw, in Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine, October 2014.
I thought long and hard before choosing a story for this week. I find this one problematic, as I will explain, but it reached the top of the pile.
As the story opens Francetta is getting out of prison after six months. We see her dealing with some people, one way or another, and making some, shall we say, life choices.
Oleksiw has decided, in this story at least, that less is more. She tells you as little as she can and makes you work out the rest.
For example, a friend gives Francetta some prescription drugs. She then walks out of the building and a policeman promptly searches her, finding nothing. "Something missing, Officer?"
From this we know: 1) the friend was no friend, 2) at least some of the cops in this town are on the take, and 3) Francetta already knew 1) and 2) and ditched the drugs accordingly.
But none of that is stated in the story. You have to figure it out, and that can be problematic. There is a scene near the end where I am still not sure how many characters were present. But it is a good story, with a satisfying ending.
I thought long and hard before choosing a story for this week. I find this one problematic, as I will explain, but it reached the top of the pile.
As the story opens Francetta is getting out of prison after six months. We see her dealing with some people, one way or another, and making some, shall we say, life choices.
Oleksiw has decided, in this story at least, that less is more. She tells you as little as she can and makes you work out the rest.
For example, a friend gives Francetta some prescription drugs. She then walks out of the building and a policeman promptly searches her, finding nothing. "Something missing, Officer?"
From this we know: 1) the friend was no friend, 2) at least some of the cops in this town are on the take, and 3) Francetta already knew 1) and 2) and ditched the drugs accordingly.
But none of that is stated in the story. You have to figure it out, and that can be problematic. There is a scene near the end where I am still not sure how many characters were present. But it is a good story, with a satisfying ending.
Sunday, August 3, 2014
An Open-and Shut Case, by Brian Tobin
"An Open-and Shut Case," by Brian Tobin, in Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine, October 2014.
Hmm... What to say about this one?
Usually when I don't want to say much it is because 1) the story is very short, or 2) there is a twist ending I don't want to give away.
Neither is true in this case. In fact, the problem is that this story does not twist. It is a straight line from the beginning to the end. What makes it stand out is that the hero (and the author) has the nerve to make this plan and carry it out.
When the story begins Sheriff Maloney is looking at the corpse of Curtis Frye, dead in the doorway of his own house. Frye was bad news, a meth-head who killed a woman for thirty bucks. He was tried for the crime three times but most of the evidence had been kicked out on a technicality, resulting in three hung juries.
After getting the investigation started Mahoney gets in his car and makes a phone call:
"You owe me, Roy. This is me calling in my chit. Tonight, you cannot kill yourself."
This is the second time Tobin made my list this year. A dazzling story, right down to the sheriff's explanation of his actions at the very end.
Hmm... What to say about this one?
Usually when I don't want to say much it is because 1) the story is very short, or 2) there is a twist ending I don't want to give away.
Neither is true in this case. In fact, the problem is that this story does not twist. It is a straight line from the beginning to the end. What makes it stand out is that the hero (and the author) has the nerve to make this plan and carry it out.
When the story begins Sheriff Maloney is looking at the corpse of Curtis Frye, dead in the doorway of his own house. Frye was bad news, a meth-head who killed a woman for thirty bucks. He was tried for the crime three times but most of the evidence had been kicked out on a technicality, resulting in three hung juries.
After getting the investigation started Mahoney gets in his car and makes a phone call:
"You owe me, Roy. This is me calling in my chit. Tonight, you cannot kill yourself."
This is the second time Tobin made my list this year. A dazzling story, right down to the sheriff's explanation of his actions at the very end.
Sunday, July 6, 2014
Aix to Grind, by Robert Mangeot
"Aix to Grind," by Robert Mangeot, in Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine, September 2011.
The narrator and his partner Gus are in France in the market for cheese. Not cheese really, That's just what they call the artworks they steal from dairies. Dairies are what they call private art collections.
But this time the narrator wants to rob a factory. Which is what they call museums.
Oh, never mind. The point is this is a very witty, cleverly plotted story about a burglary. Just remember: Ne vous fiez pas n'importe qui.
The narrator and his partner Gus are in France in the market for cheese. Not cheese really, That's just what they call the artworks they steal from dairies. Dairies are what they call private art collections.
But this time the narrator wants to rob a factory. Which is what they call museums.
Oh, never mind. The point is this is a very witty, cleverly plotted story about a burglary. Just remember: Ne vous fiez pas n'importe qui.
Sunday, June 29, 2014
It'll Cost You, by Neil Schofield
![](https://sitemanager.acsysinteractive.com/vSiteManager/Penny/Public/Upload/Images/AHMM/AHMSEPT2014web.jpg)
Lawrence Block once wrote that "A story must have a beginning, a middle and an end, but not necessarily in that order." The current fashion is to start as far into the action as you can and then explain what went before in flashbacks.
But what about starting at the end? I don't mean telling the story in reverse like, for example, the movie Betrayal. No, I am thinking of stories that begin by revealing how they will end, and then jump to the start. Two more classic movies come to mind: Sunset Boulevard and American Beauty, both of which start with the narrator informing you that he gets killed (and one of them still manages to provide a surprise ending).
My friend Neil Schofield has provided a witty and very clever story of this type. Georgie Hopcraft starts out by cheerfully telling us that he is in prison and his cell mate is "another murderer," which is a little misleading because Georgie has been convicted of a murder he did not commit.
Then why is he so cheerful? Well, it has to do with that cell mate, and I will leave it at that.
But Georgie goes on to explain the whole story. He was a somewhat shady owner of a "slightly better-class second and bric-a-brac shop" in London. But when his soon-to-be ex-wife was dissatisfied with the upcoming settlement she found a way to get him framed into prison. And we get to watch the whole framing process.
And yet, Georgie remains cheerful. Hmm. This leads us to...
SPOILER ALERT.
This story is, oddly enough, a fair play mystery. That usually means the reader has all the clues needed to figure out the identity of the murderer. In this story that is a given, but you have all the clues to figure out how Georgie will prove he didn't do it.
Sunday, June 15, 2014
The Plow Guy, by Brendan DuBois
"The Plow Guy," by Brendan DuBois, in Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine, July/August 2014.
Henry Conway has a somewhat eccentric plan for his retirement. He wants to move to a small town in New Hampshire, buy a dog for company, and plow people's driveways. Seems easy enough, but he runs into a couple of problems, especially a man who beats his wife, a problem Henry isn't willing to ignore.
But Henry has an interesting skill set. Did I mention what work he retired from? Neither does he, exactly.
I chose my retirement home like I was planning for an overseas op. Oops, I meant to say, setting up a budget spreadsheet. Or a request for proposals. Or something innocent like that.
Oddly enough, I enjoyed the story more before the inevitable conflict came along. Henry is an interesting fellow and, honestly, the bad guy just wasn't enough of a challenge for him. But the writing is lovely.
Henry Conway has a somewhat eccentric plan for his retirement. He wants to move to a small town in New Hampshire, buy a dog for company, and plow people's driveways. Seems easy enough, but he runs into a couple of problems, especially a man who beats his wife, a problem Henry isn't willing to ignore.
But Henry has an interesting skill set. Did I mention what work he retired from? Neither does he, exactly.
I chose my retirement home like I was planning for an overseas op. Oops, I meant to say, setting up a budget spreadsheet. Or a request for proposals. Or something innocent like that.
Oddly enough, I enjoyed the story more before the inevitable conflict came along. Henry is an interesting fellow and, honestly, the bad guy just wasn't enough of a challenge for him. But the writing is lovely.
Sunday, June 8, 2014
Mary's Shallow Grave, by Phillip DePoy
"Mary's Shallow Grave," by Phillip DePoy, in Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine, July/August 2014.
If I am reading the editor's note correctly, this is intended to be the first in a series. I look forward to the next.
It's 1975 and the state of Florida has hired our narrator, Foggy, to operate Child Protective Services (for the whole state? I hope not.). And he shows up at the bar with the unprepossessing name that gives the story it's title, to tell the cook that his ex-wife in in a coma, her boyfriend is dead, and his eleven-year-old daughter is on the run.
That part of Florida had always been to me, the land of people who gave up. They piled empty cardboard boxes on the front porch, rolled the broken fridge out onto the lawn; always thought it was too hot to paint the house. And the flies didn't come in if you just put a piece of plastic over that tear in the screen. Maybe it was the heat. Even in October they could get days in the nineties.
There is stolen money, crooked cops, a wealthy Indian with nefarious plans, and a bunch of people using assorted ill-advised self-medication plans. If there is any hope for an eleven-year-old girl in this mess it is going to have to be carved out of extra-legal maneuvers and deals with assorted devils.
Fortunately, Foggy is up to the challenge.
If I am reading the editor's note correctly, this is intended to be the first in a series. I look forward to the next.
It's 1975 and the state of Florida has hired our narrator, Foggy, to operate Child Protective Services (for the whole state? I hope not.). And he shows up at the bar with the unprepossessing name that gives the story it's title, to tell the cook that his ex-wife in in a coma, her boyfriend is dead, and his eleven-year-old daughter is on the run.
That part of Florida had always been to me, the land of people who gave up. They piled empty cardboard boxes on the front porch, rolled the broken fridge out onto the lawn; always thought it was too hot to paint the house. And the flies didn't come in if you just put a piece of plastic over that tear in the screen. Maybe it was the heat. Even in October they could get days in the nineties.
There is stolen money, crooked cops, a wealthy Indian with nefarious plans, and a bunch of people using assorted ill-advised self-medication plans. If there is any hope for an eleven-year-old girl in this mess it is going to have to be carved out of extra-legal maneuvers and deals with assorted devils.
Fortunately, Foggy is up to the challenge.
Sunday, May 4, 2014
"Anchor Baby," by Shauna Washington
Write what you know, so Shauna Washington, a Las Vegas-based fashion stylist, writes about Stacey Deshay, a Las Vegas-based fashin stylist. It's so crazy it just might work.
And it works fine in this caper in which Stacey makes a special trip to Arizona to deliver a client's maid and baby to the mansion of the client's soon-to-be-ex-husband. She gets their just in time to witness a murder and after that, things get worse.
Best thing about this story is the writing. First person narrator is character. "It was a long time since I'd traveled this far on a job, but since the recession hit, my new motto was 'Go where the money is, since it sure isn't coming to me.'
Sunday, April 20, 2014
Hunters, by John M. Floyd
So, where do you get your ideas? That's a question writers hear a lot.
One place is news stories. Sometimes I will run across some bizarre thing that actually happened and file it away, thinking, hmm, yes, that could turn into fiction.
My friend and fellow SleuthSayer, John M. Floyd, made something out of one of those news items that I never got around to, and more power to him.
Occasionally you hear about someone going on trial because they tried to hire a hitman, often in a bar, to kill someone. It seems to me that it is usually a woman trying to bump off her husband, but that might be selective memory.
And this story is about Charlie Hunter, who owns a bar in a bump-in-the-road town in Mississippi and has an envelope full of cash ready to pay the hitman he is hiring to solve his marital problem. As you can guess, things don't go according to plan.
What makes this story different is that it is not the usual bad-guy-tangled-in-his-own-web tale, but more of a mediocre-guy-with-second-thoughts affair. No heroes, not a lot of villains, and a lot of gray lines.
Sunday, March 30, 2014
A Knock On The Door, by Jas. R. Petrin
"A Knock On The Door," by Jas. R. Petrin, in Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine, April 2014.
I have written before about my admiration for Jas. R. Petrin's stories about Skig Skorzeny, an aging Halifax loanshark with a gut full of cancer and a heart of, well, not gold, but something more than the rock he pretends to possess.
I'm not going to dwell on the plot of this story (late wife's niece, missing person) but instead I want to concentrate on the writing. As I went through the tale I found myself marking passages I like (perhaps the only benefit of my not having a story of my own in this issue. I don't need to save it). So, with no further ado:
Skig to a delinquent customer who is suffering from a protection racket:
"Those partners of yours bleed you again before I get paid, I'm gonna attend their next shareholders meeting. In fact, I might anyway."
"Please don't do that."
"Could be fun. A hostile takeover. Tell 'em."
Skig about to have an MRI:
"So, Mr. Skorzeny, is there any metal, iron, nickel, or cobalt on or in your body?"
"Cobalt? What the hell is cobalt?"
"A metal--"
"Inside me?"
"Yes."
"How would I know? This body's been through some pileups. Do bullets have cobalt in them?"
The narrator explains why Skig moved into an old filling station:
After Jeanette died, the house had seemed too empty during the day, and too full at night, all the ghosts peering out of the woodwork.
A cop asks Skig for help:
"Help you? Listen, I'm responsible for half the overtime you get."
And, at random:
"Nobody knows nothing anymore," Skig said. "The information age."
Treat yourself.
I have written before about my admiration for Jas. R. Petrin's stories about Skig Skorzeny, an aging Halifax loanshark with a gut full of cancer and a heart of, well, not gold, but something more than the rock he pretends to possess.
I'm not going to dwell on the plot of this story (late wife's niece, missing person) but instead I want to concentrate on the writing. As I went through the tale I found myself marking passages I like (perhaps the only benefit of my not having a story of my own in this issue. I don't need to save it). So, with no further ado:
Skig to a delinquent customer who is suffering from a protection racket:
"Those partners of yours bleed you again before I get paid, I'm gonna attend their next shareholders meeting. In fact, I might anyway."
"Please don't do that."
"Could be fun. A hostile takeover. Tell 'em."
Skig about to have an MRI:
"So, Mr. Skorzeny, is there any metal, iron, nickel, or cobalt on or in your body?"
"Cobalt? What the hell is cobalt?"
"A metal--"
"Inside me?"
"Yes."
"How would I know? This body's been through some pileups. Do bullets have cobalt in them?"
The narrator explains why Skig moved into an old filling station:
After Jeanette died, the house had seemed too empty during the day, and too full at night, all the ghosts peering out of the woodwork.
A cop asks Skig for help:
"Help you? Listen, I'm responsible for half the overtime you get."
And, at random:
"Nobody knows nothing anymore," Skig said. "The information age."
Treat yourself.
Sunday, March 2, 2014
The Raider, by Janice Law
Can you set a mystery story in a war?
Of course, you can. There are plenty of examples, but it seems odd. Hundreds or thousands of people getting killed and somehow we choose to focus on one death and say that one was wrong.
This was brought to mind by an excellent story by my fellow SleuthSayer, Janice Law. It is set during the Bleeding Kansas period, a few years before the Civil War when people were in brutal combat over whether that territory would be a free or slave state.
They were burned out on the spring of '56 in a raid that left nothing but the walls of the soddy and a few chickens that flew down out of the oak trees and pecked through the debris. His father sat by the ruins of the new barn with his head in his hands and his face the color of ashes....
Young Chad wants to get a horse and seek revenge. He gets his wish and the story turns grim. In a situation like this, maybe there can't be any good guys.
Sunday, February 23, 2014
The Clan, by Tony Richards
"The Clan," by Tony Richards, in Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine, March 2014.
I have written once before about Tony Richards' satisfying series of science-fiction mystery stories set in a near-future Federated Africa. To my mind, this story is the best so far.
Abel Enetame has been promoted to captain in the African police for his work against people who would like to reduce the continent to the good old days of tribal warfare, but now he is pressured to go undercover against a new enemy. The Anti-Caucasian Clan is attacking Caucafricans -- white citizens of the federated state. Worse, they are killing them in impossible ways, getting in and out of locked rooms at will.
Abel goes undercover in situations that put him in ethically sticky situations and watching him slip around them is one of the pleasures of the story. His method of defeating the impossible killers is the other.
I have written once before about Tony Richards' satisfying series of science-fiction mystery stories set in a near-future Federated Africa. To my mind, this story is the best so far.
Abel Enetame has been promoted to captain in the African police for his work against people who would like to reduce the continent to the good old days of tribal warfare, but now he is pressured to go undercover against a new enemy. The Anti-Caucasian Clan is attacking Caucafricans -- white citizens of the federated state. Worse, they are killing them in impossible ways, getting in and out of locked rooms at will.
Abel goes undercover in situations that put him in ethically sticky situations and watching him slip around them is one of the pleasures of the story. His method of defeating the impossible killers is the other.
Sunday, February 9, 2014
Assets Protection, by Kristine Kathryn Rusch
Rusch is one of my favorite current authors of mystery short stories, and this caper story is a good example of why.
Carla is an ex-con, gone straight after a fashion. She gets hired by businesses to test their security, especially their susceptibility to high-level shoplifting schemes.
At a conference she sees Grady, the abusive cop who arrested her. He is now living high on the hog as the head of security for a department store chain. It doesn't take Carla long to discover that he has a sneaky money-making scheme of his own, and so she sets out to derail him. "She needed to show Grady just what it was like to lose."
To do this she needs the help of a low-level celebrity, and fortunately she knows one, an actor named Jimmy who used to share her lawyer before he got famous. He doesn't need the money, but he does crave a little larceny...
I would enjoy seeing these two in action again.
Sunday, February 2, 2014
The Art of Authentification, by Christopher Welch
"The Art of Authentification," by Christopher Welch., in Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine, January/February 2014.
This is at least the fourth story by Welch in this series, but the first time he has made my best-of-the week list. Bridgman is an art dealer in the Berkshires. In each story he and his partner find themselves reluctantly involved in crimes related to art.
And let us pause to talk about one of the many things a mystery can do. It can reveal details about some aspect of the world that most of us know nothing about. In this case the subject is art authentification.
Bridgman's gallery contains some paintings by a recently deceased artist named Madie Balan. The trust that supervises her estate insists that he can't legally sell them unless (and until) they authenticate them as genuine Balans. But the members of the trust own some of her work, which means every work they declare genuine makes their own property less rare and therefore less valuable.
Conflict of interest? You betcha. But that's not the whole story, because determining whether the works are genuine may be impossible. Apparently the artist sometimes started a work and let someone else finish it. (Hey, so did Rembrandt...nothing new there.) So the matter of real and fake is almost a matter of philosophy.
And I haven't even mentioned the murder.
Two complaints about the story. The protagonists don't actually solve it. They merely accidentally cause the killer to reveal himself. Yes, they fall into the category of amateur detectives, but that's a little more amateur than I prefer.
And second is a more personal gripe. This story features characters named Bridgman, Balan, Bess, and Bosch. At two points the author and/or editor get confused and Bess becomes Beth. There are twenty-six perfectly good letters in the alphabet. Why torture the reader like that?
This is at least the fourth story by Welch in this series, but the first time he has made my best-of-the week list. Bridgman is an art dealer in the Berkshires. In each story he and his partner find themselves reluctantly involved in crimes related to art.
And let us pause to talk about one of the many things a mystery can do. It can reveal details about some aspect of the world that most of us know nothing about. In this case the subject is art authentification.
Bridgman's gallery contains some paintings by a recently deceased artist named Madie Balan. The trust that supervises her estate insists that he can't legally sell them unless (and until) they authenticate them as genuine Balans. But the members of the trust own some of her work, which means every work they declare genuine makes their own property less rare and therefore less valuable.
Conflict of interest? You betcha. But that's not the whole story, because determining whether the works are genuine may be impossible. Apparently the artist sometimes started a work and let someone else finish it. (Hey, so did Rembrandt...nothing new there.) So the matter of real and fake is almost a matter of philosophy.
And I haven't even mentioned the murder.
Two complaints about the story. The protagonists don't actually solve it. They merely accidentally cause the killer to reveal himself. Yes, they fall into the category of amateur detectives, but that's a little more amateur than I prefer.
And second is a more personal gripe. This story features characters named Bridgman, Balan, Bess, and Bosch. At two points the author and/or editor get confused and Bess becomes Beth. There are twenty-six perfectly good letters in the alphabet. Why torture the reader like that?
Sunday, November 3, 2013
The Psychic Investigator, by Janice Law
"The Psychic Investigator," by Janice Law, in Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine, December
2013.
I believe in full disclosure, which in the case of this blog means that you deserve to know if I might have some reason to favor a story other than its quality.
In this case it is a triple threat. Not only is Janice Law a friend of mine, and a fellow blogger at SleuthSayers, but I can also claim a tiny bit of credit for this story existing at all. I was the one who suggested to Janice that she do something she had never done before: write more than one story about a character. I think this is the fourth in this series, although I might be off.
And what a wonderful character she is. Madame Selina is a spiritualist in New York City in the years after the Civil War, when quite a number of people long to speak to their dead loved ones. Madame is assisted by Aurelius, the former emperor of Rome who allegedly speaks to her in trances, and by Nip Tompkins, formerly of the orphan's home, who assists with clouds of smoke and other special effects when the emperor proves unreliable.
In this adventure, a psychic investigator has arrive din the Big Apple and is making good money by revealing the tricks used by so-called mediums. Madame Selina, no shrinking violet, applies the challenge direct, publishing an open letter thanking the professor on behalf of the true psychics for revealing their fraudulent competition. She knows this will bring the man to her parlor. Now she needs young Nip to find a weakness she can use...
"The mind needs little helps," explains Madame Selina. And by hook or by crook she will provide them, and catch the bad guy in the process.
2013.
I believe in full disclosure, which in the case of this blog means that you deserve to know if I might have some reason to favor a story other than its quality.
In this case it is a triple threat. Not only is Janice Law a friend of mine, and a fellow blogger at SleuthSayers, but I can also claim a tiny bit of credit for this story existing at all. I was the one who suggested to Janice that she do something she had never done before: write more than one story about a character. I think this is the fourth in this series, although I might be off.
And what a wonderful character she is. Madame Selina is a spiritualist in New York City in the years after the Civil War, when quite a number of people long to speak to their dead loved ones. Madame is assisted by Aurelius, the former emperor of Rome who allegedly speaks to her in trances, and by Nip Tompkins, formerly of the orphan's home, who assists with clouds of smoke and other special effects when the emperor proves unreliable.
In this adventure, a psychic investigator has arrive din the Big Apple and is making good money by revealing the tricks used by so-called mediums. Madame Selina, no shrinking violet, applies the challenge direct, publishing an open letter thanking the professor on behalf of the true psychics for revealing their fraudulent competition. She knows this will bring the man to her parlor. Now she needs young Nip to find a weakness she can use...
"The mind needs little helps," explains Madame Selina. And by hook or by crook she will provide them, and catch the bad guy in the process.
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