Over at SleuthSayers I have just posted my list of the best short mystery stories of 2021. Congratulations to all the writers, and thanks for many hours of pleasurable reading.
I find myself in an awkward position for the second time. Well, actually I have been in awkward positions many times. But this is only the second time for this one.
Occasionally I will exchange critiques with another writer. That is, I will send them a story and ask for advice on it. They do the same with me.
So I saw a version of this story back in 2019. It is possible McCormick adopted some of my suggestions. (Don't ask me what I suggested; it was three freaking years ago.) You can therefore say I am not objective about it, so take my opinion with however many grains of salt you think appropriate. But it is the best story I read this week.
Oh, and this is the fifth time McCormick has made it into this column. Now, down to business.
It's 1943. An insurance man named Jeff has just rented a house in a new city. His landlord warns him that the cellar door is tricky and can slam shut. That's what happens in the first paragraph, locking our hero in behind a steel door.
Oops.
Well, embarassing but no big problem. He just has to attract the attention of a passer-by who happens to near his lonely alley:
"Help me, please, miss!" I shout. "I've locked myself in this basement. Can you come inside and unfasten the door?"
Her stare is icy cold. "If you think I'm coming in there alone with you, fellah, you're crazy!"
"But--"
"No. Not with all the odd things and killings happening in this part of town. Sorry."
"Odd things and killings..." You don't have to be an MWA Grand Master to guess what happens next. When Jeff finally gets the attention of someone willing to enter, it is the man responsible for those other bad events. And a game of cat and mouse begins.
This is a pure suspense story, and very well done. I am especially fond of the last paragraph, in which McCormick tips his hat to another well-known suspense author.
This is the second story by Lang to appear in this column.
It may be worth noting that my favorite story in this book is one of the few with a White protagonist. It is also one of the more -- I won't say optimistic, but less pessimistic.
Which may be considered as evidence that it would be helpful to have more people with varied backgrounds reviewing short stories. If anyone wants to get into the rewarding (well, only intellectually) business of writing a column like this, let me know.
Okay, on to the business at hand.
Alan makes his living play the lute at renaissance festivals. While hitchhiking to one on a highway he is stopped by state police officers who are baffled by the instrument, the man, and his costume. "Dancing around in tights and slippers?"
Things go badly sideways and Alan winds up in prison. But he has a plan on how to get out. It's a longshot, but any shot might be worth taking...
An intriguing tale.
This is the fourth appearance in this space by Walker, his third with a 2021 publication. That's unusual.
Also unusual is that this anthology appears to have come into existence without an editor. Amazing when that happens.
Abe, the narrator, is an ex-con, now working as a bartender. One day Russ Leopold shows up.
Forty years ago, in 1976, Russ and Gabe Booth and I were in a crew, and I don't mean we rowed for Stanford.
The crew committed armed robberies. Gabe was the planner. It went well until it didn't. After a botched diamond robbery Russ and Abe got lighter sentences by testifying against Gabe.
Now Russ has learned that Gabe is dead. No one ever found the millions of dollars worth of diamonds that they stole. Would Abe like to go to Gabe's little home in the country for a look-see?
This is a story that would fit comfortably in Ellery Queen's Black Mask department. Don't go hunting for happy endings.
I admit to bias on this one. In fact I am doubly prejudiced.
First, it's about librarians, which is the occupation I pursued for more than forty years. This is a double-edged sword, of course: If the writer doesn't know the library biz I get turned off immediately. But Bresniker, being one of the gang herself, doesn't fall into that trap.
The second reason for my prejudice is more complicated. See if you can figure it out.
The narrator is Arlie, who works at a public library. Her colleague is Sal. The director, their boss, is an obese and brilliant woman named Nora.
Many of you have figured it out by now. Let me add that Nora is somehow wealthy enough to have a chef named Mitzie...
This is a clever homage to one of my favorite mystery writers. Hence my biased enjoyment.
I will say that my suspension of disbelief had a hard time coping with Nora's wealth. I have only known two millionaire librarians. One inherited money. The other founded a publishing house and sold it to a big company. Both promptly left the biz.
But that didn't keep me from enjoying the strange of someone "stealing books for a library."
This is the seventh appearance in this column by my fellow SleuthSayer.
I let a murderer go today.
That's how the tale begins. You might feel that the prosecutor is being a little hard on himself, because he did try his best to get Thomas Edmonds convicted. (Didn't he?)
He walks you through the trial, through every maddening moment that caused his case to slip away. And through it all Edmonds sits there, as unconcerned as a bystander at a church picnic. No wonder the narrator is so upset. But then unexpected things happen.
You could argue that this story is a stunt. Ah, but it is a satisfying stunt.
This is a pretty silly story. Not that there is anything wrong with that.
Ray is the ramblin' man. He decides to leave Nashville with only one possession: a guitar he recently "liberated." It's not a particularly wonderful guitar; he just wanted one.
His plan for leaving town is to sneak into the back of a truck full of fireworks. Might work okay, except that there is already some contraband cargo in the vehicle: two women who do not want to be headed wherever the driver is taking them.
Luckily they have a rescuer on board. Unluckily, the hero is Ray, and Ray, well...
"How goddamn dumb are you?"
"Um... fairly."
The fun part of the story is the conversation between Ray and the two prisoners. And the fireworks, both literal and figurative.
I am not a big fan of stories told in the second person, as I have mentioned the, um, four other times one of them has made it onto this page. But Aymar makes this one work very well.
You're sitting at the bar, thinking about choices.
The protagonist's life is going down the tubes. His daughter died in an accident that he feels responsible for, although the authorities disagreed.
His wife is living with Eric Garcia, who owns the store where our hero works. Eric is everything he is not: a confident, successful man. And our protagonist feels that the world isn't big enough to hold both of them.
This is a very clever story, one where the telling is as essential as the plot. I do think it has some rough edges. If I were the editor I would have asked Aymar to polish a few of them harder. But this is a terrific piece of work.
The evening after he gets out of prison after 22 years, Roy returns to the dingy tavern where his life went off the rails.
If you are now thinking: "Hmm. Sounds like noir," then congratulations. You have just aced your quiz in Subgenre Recognition 101.
The story slips between Roy's present visit to Murphy's Tavern and his first fateful encounter there at age 16. Turns out that back then he met Murphy's much-abused wife. And you know what happens when a noir protagonist meets an attractive woman.
Classic noir with some clever twists.
This is the second appearance by Harrington in my column this year.
I think five or six flash stories have made it to my best-of-the-week list. This story could probably have been expanded to three or four times its current length, but it wouldn't have made it a better story. All the details you need are here.
Todd comes to clean the pool just as Ava is backing out of her driveway. There is a fatal collision.
Such a tragedy. Imagine how devastated Todd's widow must be. She's the one at the funeral with big dark glasses to cover the last time he slapped her...
I did not see where this clever tale was headed.