Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine Presents Fifty Years of Crime and Suspense Read online

  ALFRED HITCHCOCK’S

  MYSTERY MAGAZINE PRESENTS

  FIFTY YEARS OF

  CRIME AND SUSPENSE

  ALFRED HITCHCOCK’S MYSTERY MAGAZINE PRESENTS

  EDITED BY LINDA LANDRIGAN

  PEGASUS BOOKS

  NEW YORK

  CONTENTS

  Acknowledgments

  Introduction

  THE FRIGHTENING FRAMMIS by Jim Thompson

  THE DAY OF THE EXECUTION by Henry Slesar

  #8 by Jack Ritchie

  NOT A LAUGHING MATTER by Evan Hunter

  A GENUINE ALECTRYOMANCER by Charles Willeford

  GOOD NIGHT! GOOD NIGHT! by Donald E. Westlake

  THE COST OF KENT CASTWELL by Avram Davidson

  THE LONG WAY DOWN by Edward D. Hoch

  THE “METHOD” SHERIFF by Ed Lacy

  DEATH OF A NOBODY by Bill Pronzini

  RECIPE FOR MURDER by James Holding

  NEW NEIGHBOR by Talmage Powell

  HISTORICAL ERRORS by William Brittain

  A CANDLE FOR THE BAG LADY by Lawrence Block

  MAKING A KILLING WITH MAMA CASS by William Bankier

  THE TAKAMOKU JOSEKI by Sara Paretsky

  MY BROTHER’S WIFE by Rob Kantner

  FINAL RITES by Doug Allyn

  THE SEARCH FOR OLGA BATEAU by Stephen Wasylyk

  HAWKS by Connie Holt

  UNBEARABLE TEMPTATIONS by Jeffry Scott

  PRIESTS by George C. Chesbro

  PUSAN NIGHTS by Martin Limón

  BODY ENGLISH by S. J. Rozan

  THE MUSE by Jan Burke

  SINKHOLE by Carol Cail

  SATURDAY NIGHT AT THE MIKADO MASSAGE by Loren D. Estleman

  LORD OF OBSTACLES by Gregory S. Fallis

  BLACK SPARTACUS by James Lincoln Warren

  ERIE’S LAST DAY by Steve Hockensmith

  TABLOID PRESS by Janice Law

  THE O-BON CAT by I. J. Parker

  LEAVING NAIROBI by Ed McBain

  VOODOO by Rhys Bowen

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Grateful acknowledgment is made to the following for their permission to use their copyrighted material. Every reasonable effort has been made to trace the ownership of all copyrighted material included in this volume. Any errors which may have occurred are inadvertent and will be corrected in subsequent editions, provided proper notification is sent to the publisher.

  All stories previously appeared in Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine.

  “Final Rites” by Doug Allyn, copyright © 1985 by Davis Publications, Inc., reprinted by permission of the author; “Making A Killing With Mama Cass” by William Bankier, copyright © 1980 by Davis Publications, Inc., reprinted by permission of Curtis Brown, Ltd; “A Candle for the Bag Lady” by Lawrence Block, copyright © 1977 by Davis Publications, Inc., reprinted by permission of the author; “Voodoo” by Rhys Bowen, copyright © 2004 by Rhys Bowen, reprinted by permission of the Jane Rotrosen Agency; “Historical Errors” by William Brittain, copyright © 1976 by H.S.D. Publications, Inc., reprinted by permission of the author; “The Muse” by Jan Burke, copyright © 1995 by Jan Burke, reprinted by permission of the author; “Sinkhole” by Carol Cail, copyright © 1995 by Carol Cail, reprinted by permission of the author; “Priests” by George Chesbro, copyright © 1991 by Davis Publications, Inc., reprinted by permission of the author; “The Cost of Kent Castwell” by Avram Davidson, copyright © 1961 by Grania Davis, proprietor, Avram Davidson Estate; “Saturday Night at the Mikado Massage” by Loren D. Estleman, copyright © 1996 by Loren D. Estleman, reprinted by permission of the author; “Lord of Obstacles” by Gregory Fallis, copyright © 1996 by Gregory Fallis, reprinted by permission of the author; “The Long Way Down” by Edward D. Hoch copyright © 1965 by H.S.D. Publications, Inc., reprinted by permission of the author; “Erie’s Last Day” by Steve Hockensmith, copyright © 2000 by Steve Hockensmith, reprinted by permission of the author; “Recipe for Murder” by James Holding, Jr., copyright © 1973 by H.S.D. Publications, Inc., reprinted by permission of Barry N. Malzberg; “Hawks” by Connie Holt, copyright © 1989 by Davis Publications, Inc., reprinted by permission of the author; “Not a Laughing Matter” by Evan Hunter, copyright © 1958 by H.S.D. Publications, Inc., reprinted by permission of Gelfman Schneider Literary Agents; “My Brother’s Wife” by Rob Kantner, copyright © 1985 by Davis Publications, Inc., © renewed 1989, reprinted by permission of the author; “The ‘Method’ Sheriff” by Ed Lacy, copyright © 1967 by H.S.D. Publications, Inc; “Tabloid Press” by Janice Law, copyright © 1999 by Janice Law, reprinted by permission of the author; “Pusan Nights” by Martin Limón, copyright © 1991 by Davis Publications, Inc., reprinted by permission of the author; “Leaving Nairobi” by Ed McBain, copyright © 2003 by Evan Hunter, reprinted by permission of Gelfman Schneider Literary Agents; “The Takamoku Joseki” by Sara Paretsky, copyright © 1984 by Davis Publications, Inc., © renewed 1996, reprinted by permission of Dominick Abel Literary Agency, Inc; “The O–Bon Cat” by I. J. Parker, copyright © 2002 by I. J. Parker, reprinted by permission of the author; “New Neighbor” by Talmage Powell, copyright © 1975 by H.S.D. Publications, Inc., reprinted by permission of Barry N. Malzberg; “Death of a Nobody” by Bill Pronzini, copyright © 1970 by H.S.D. Publications, Inc., reprinted by permission of the author; “#8” by Jack Ritchie, copyright © 1958 by H.S.D. Publications, Inc., reprinted by permission of The Sternig & Byrne Literary Agency; “Body English” by S. J. Rozan, copyright © 1992 by S. J. Rozan, reprinted by permission of The Axelrod Agency, Inc; “Unbearable Temptations” by Jeffry Scott, copyright © 1990 by Davis Publications, Inc., reprinted by permission of the author; “The Day of the Execution” by Henry Slesar, copyright © 1957 by H.S.D. Publications, Inc., reprinted by permission of the author’s estate; “The Frightening Frammis” by Jim Thompson, copyright © 1957 by H.S.D. Publications, Inc., © renewed 1984, reprinted by permission of Richard Curtis Associates; “Black Spartacus” by James Lincoln Warren, copyright © 1999 by James Lincoln Warren, reprinted by permission of the author; “The Search for Olga Bateau” by Stephen Wasylyk, copyright © 1987 by Davis Publications, Inc., reprinted by permission of the author’s estate; “Good Night! Good Night!” By Donald E. Westlake, copyright © renewed 1988 by Davis Publications, Inc., reprinted by permission of the author; “A Genuine Alectryomancer” by Charles Willeford, copyright © 1959 by H.S.D. Publications, Inc., reprinted by permission of JET Literary Associates, Inc.

  INTRODUCTION

  Fifty years is a lot of stories.

  When I first started to think about assembling an anthology to commemorate the fiftieth anniversary of Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, I looked across my desk at the wall that holds all the issues of the magazine since December 1956 and thought, Oh, brother. I decided to get some help in determining which stories represented the best of the magazine’s illustrious history.

  I appealed to our readers in a notice in the magazine, asking them to write in and tell us their favorite stories. The response was wonderful. Some correspondents named a single story that had lingered in their minds for years. Some named a favorite author (“Anything by Stephen Wasylyk”). Others sent us on a series of treasure hunts with the words, “I don’t remember the title or author, but …” Often these correspondents could describe a story in such detail that we were actually able to identify it.

  These letters were yet further proof to us that AHMM is blessed with faithful readers who have continued to subscribe to the magazine for years, or even generations; in many ways they
feel the magazine “belongs” to them. The letters also reminded us of the power of the short story. These stories may have been published in a small monthly magazine, but they are much more than ephemeral entertainment. Their plots and characters, their ironies and emotional impact possess an enduring resonance. They stay with us for years, often long after the issue of the magazine has disappeared.

  There is no doubt the early popularity of the magazine was aided by its clear association with Alfred Hitchcock. The magazine was founded in the mid-fifties by Richard E. Decker and H.S.D. Publications, at the time, the publishers of Manhunt. They made the agreement with the famous director to lend his name to the magazine.

  Soon the producers of the popular half-hour television program Alfred Hitchcock Presents (1955–61) were mining the young magazine for published stories that they could turn into teleplays. Borden Deal’s “A Bottle of Wine,” from the very first issue of AHMM, was quickly selected for the show. Subsequently, stories by AHMM authors Henry Slesar, Talmage Powell, James Holding, Jack Ritchie, Ed Lacy, and Robert Bloch, to name a few, were turned into teleplays and filmed for Alfred Hitchcock Presents or its later incarnation, The Alfred Hitchcock Hour (1962–65).

  Since the early days, the magazine has welcomed both seasoned pros as well as young writers still carving a niche for themselves in the mystery world. During the 1960s, AHMM published early stories by writers who today are Grand Masters of the field, including Donald E. Westlake and Hillary Waugh.

  In 1975 Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine was purchased by Davis Publications, which also published Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. While other fiction digests were disappearing, AHMM became even more solidly established in the seventies under the stewardship of editor Eleanor Sullivan, who regularly published such talented writers as Lawrence Block and Bill Pronzini.

  Cathleen Jordan came on board as editor in 1981 and quickly broadened the magazine’s appeal to reach thousands of short story readers across the country. She also continued AHMM’s tradition of being receptive to unpublished or unknown writers. Doug Allyn, Rob Kantner, Martin Limón, and I. J. Parker are a handful of the many writers who got their start in the pages of AHMM.

  With the help of our readers, I have chosen a representative sampling of AHMM stories from the past five decades. They are all engaging, finely crafted stories, and they exemplify the range and variety AHMM has offered over the years. Whether you are coming to them for the first time or reading them again, you can be assured of entertainment. If you are a student of writing, the stories are worth studying for their craftsmanship. As a collection, the stories show the stylistic evolution of the popular short story. In this collection you will find writers you recognize and writers that deserve more attention.

  Even though fifty years may not seem like that much time, American culture has evolved in ways both subtle and dramatic, and those shifts are reflected in the stories. The Civil Rights movement, the sexual revolution and women’s rights, the Vietnam war, the fall of the Berlin Wall, and the increasingly multicultural nature of our society are just some of the changes that inform these stories, giving them a relevance beyond their primary mandate, to entertain.

  For their part in making this anthology come to fruition, I would like to thank Pegasus Books founder and editor, Claiborne Hancock; Dell Magazines marketing and subrights manager, Abby Browning; my assistants Nicole K. Sia and Jonas Eno-Van Fleet; and all of the readers who submitted their superb suggestions.

  Linda Landrigan

  April 2006, New York

  JIM THOMPSON

  THE FRIGHTENING FRAMMIS

  February 1957

  NOW RECOGNIZED as one of the great masters of noir, Jim Thompson supported himself with a variety of jobs ranging from oil worker and professional gambler to journalist. He published twenty-six novels, including The Killer Inside Me, After Dark, My Sweet, and The Grifters. Thompson appeared in the very first issue of AHMM, and in that story he introduced hustler Mitch Allison, who returns in this story as well.

  For perhaps the hundredth time that day, Mitch Allison squared his shoulders, wreathed his face with an engaging grin, and swung his thumb in a gesture as old as hitchhiking. And for perhaps the hundredth time his appeal was rudely ignored. The oncoming car roared down on him and past him, wiping the forced grin from his face with the nauseous blast of its exhausts.

  Mitch cursed it hideously as he continued walking, damning the car’s manufacturer, its owner, and finally, and most fulsomely, himself.

  “Just couldn’t be satisfied, could you?” he grumbled bitterly. “Sitting right up on top of the world, and it wasn’t good enough for you. Well, how do you like this, you stupid dull-witted moronic blankety-blank-blank!”

  Mitch Allison was not the crying kind. He had grown up in a world where tears were more apt to inspire annoyance than sympathy, and a sob was likely to get you a punch in the throat. Still, he was very close to weeping now. If there had been any tears in him, he would have bawled with sheer shame and self-exasperation.

  Less than a day ago, he had possessed almost twenty thousand dollars, the proceeds from robbing his wife, swindling the madam of a parlor house and pulling an intricate double double-cross on several “business” associates. Moreover, since it had been imperative for him to clear out of Los Angeles, his home town, he had had a deluxe stateroom on the eastbound Super Chief. Then …

  Well, there was this elderly couple. Retired farmers, ostensibly, who had just sold their orange grove for a five-figure sum. So Mitch had tied into them, as the con man’s saying is, suggesting a friendly little card game. What happened then was figuratively murder.

  The nice old couple had taken him like Grant took Richmond. Their apparently palsied hands had made the cards perform in a manner which even Mitch, with all his years of suckering chumps, would have declared impossible. He couldn’t believe his own eyes, his own senses. His twenty grand was gone and the supposed suckers were giving him the merry ha-ha in a matter of two hours.

  Mitch had threatened to beat them into hamburger if they didn’t return his dough. And that, of course, was a mistake, the compounding of one serious error with another. For the elderly couple—far more practiced in the con than he—had impeccable references and identification, while Mitch’s were both scanty and lousy.

  He couldn’t establish legitimate ownership to twenty cents, let alone twenty grand. Certainly, he was in no position to explain how he had come by that twenty grand. His attempts to do so, when the old couple summoned the conductor, had led him into one palpable lie after another. In the end, he had had to jump the train, sans baggage and ceremony, to avoid arrest.

  So now, here he was. Broke, disgusted, footsore, hungry, hitch-hiking his way back to Los Angeles, where he probably would get killed as soon as he was spotted. Even if no one else cared to murder him, his wife, Bette, would be itching to do so. Still, a guy had to go some place, didn’t he? And having softened up Bette before, perhaps he could do it again. It was a chance—his only chance.

  A hustling man needs a good front. Right now, Mitch looked like the king of the tramps.

  Brushing the sweat from his eyes, he paused to stare at a sign attached to a roadside tree: Los Angeles—125 Miles. He looked past the sign, into the inviting shade of the trees beyond it. The ocean would be over there somewhere, not too far from the highway. If he could wash up a little, rinse out his shirt and underwear …

  He sighed, shook his head, and walked on. It wasn’t worth the trouble, he decided. It wasn’t safe. The way his luck was running, he’d probably wade into a school of sharks.

  In the distance, he heard another car approaching. Wearily, knowing he had to try, Mitch turned and swung his thumb.

  It was a Cadillac, a big black convertible. As it began to slow down, Mitch had a feeling that no woman had ever given him such a going over and seemed to like so well what she saw as the one sitting next to the Cad’s driver.

  The car came on, slower and slower. It c
ame even with him, and the woman asked, “How far to El Ciudad?”

  “El Ciudad?—” the car was creeping past him; Mitch had to trot along at its side to answer the question. “You mean, the resort? About fifty miles, I think.”

  “I see.” The woman stared at him searchingly. “Would you like a ride?” she asked.

  “Would I!”

  She winked at Mitch, spoke over her shoulder to the man behind the wheel. “All right, stupid. Stop. We’re giving this guy a ride.”

  The man grunted a dispirited curse. The car stopped, then spurted forward savagely as Mitch clambered into the back seat.

  “What a jerk!” The woman stared disgustedly at her companion. “Can’t even give a guy a ride without trying to break his neck!”

  “Dry up,” the man said wearily. “Drop dead.”

  “So damned tight you squeak! If I’d only known what you were like before I married you!”

  “Ditto. Double you in spades.”

  The woman took a pint of whiskey from the glove compartment, drank from it, and casually handed it back to Mitch. He took a long, thirsty drink and started to pass the bottle back. But she had turned away again, become engrossed in nagging at her husband.

  Mitch was just a little embarrassed by the quarrel, but only a little. Mitch Allison was not a guy to be easily or seriously embarrassed. He took another drink, then another. Gratefully, he settled down into the deeply upholstered seat, listening disinterestedly to the woman’s brittle voice and her husband’s retorts.

  “Jerk! Stingy! Selfish …,” she was saying.

  “Aw, Babe, lay off, will you? It’s our honeymoon, and I’m taking you to one of the nicest places in the country.”

  “Oh, sure! Taking me there during the off-season! Because you’re just too cheap and jealous to live it up a little. Because you don’t want anyone to see me!”

  “Now, that isn’t so, Babe. I just want to be alone with you, that’s all.”