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.
This is the fifth appearance here by Allyn. It is also the second week in a row that I chose a short story by authors known for much longer tales.
Imagine you are stuck in traffic on your way to an important, even life-and-death meeting. Not good.
Now imagine you get rear-ended by a woman who is not paying attention. Even worse.
But the frosting on the cake is that the accident makes your trunk fly open, revealing the bag of cocaine you are bringing to the meeting...
What follows is more twists and turns per page than any story I can remember in years. Quite a ride.
This is the ninth appearance in this space by DuBois, tying him with Michael Bracken. Other than high quality, it doesn't have much in common with his other stories here, which tended to be long tales of good guys overcoming bad guys. "Killers," on the other hand, is a short and quirky tale about somewhat eccentric baddies.
Palmer and York are ex-cops, turned to a more profitable career as hitmen. They are sitting in a car one night, waiting for a couple who they have been assigned to attend to. Alas, the targets are late and the old friends run out of things to talk about. And so, to keep awake, Palmer says: "Tell me the most romantic thing you've ever done."
Well. That's a surprising turn. What follows are a couple of revealing anecdotes from the killers' past. And in the last scene we see how they are affected by these memories.
I thought I knew where this charming story was headed. DuBois fooled me completely.
Generally a piece of fiction has a premise (woman comes to private detectives seeking protection; one of them is promptly killed) and a plot (see, there's this statue of a bird rom Malta, and some very bad guys want it...).
And also generally, a reviewer can discuss the premise but shouldn't give away too much of the plot. This becomes a problem if the story is halfway over before the premise is clear. So I will be revealing a lot of the set-up because, what else can I do? Discuss the punctuation?
Max is a "tech geek," working for a company that does hush-hush security stuff. Because he hates the social side of work he invents Rebecca, a non-existent wife. This imaginary person is his excuse to avoid after-work events and the like.
All goes well until he falls in love with a flesh-and-blood co-worker. His tightly zipped employer does not approve of infidelity. Leaving Max with a thorny dilemma:
How do you rid yourself of a wife who does not actually exist?
This story is a real treat.
This is the fourth appearance here by Welsh-Huggins,and I think it is the second appearance by protagonist Mercury Carter. It's hard to tell because the hero of "The Mailman" is nameless, as far as I can tell. They certainly seem to be the same guy.
So who is that guy? He's a delivery man, the person you contact when the package absolutely, positively needs to be there on time - and bad guys are ready to kill to prevent that. In the first story the package was two people. Today it is a flash drive full of potentially life-saving data needed by a virologist.
Someone once described Thomas Perry's novels as "competence porn," meaning that his protagonists don't make mistakes and have whatever skills they need. We are in that territory here.
Here is Carter reacting to someone putting a gun against the back of his head and telling him "Don't do anything stupid."
'Sure,' said Carter, and did something stupid, driving his left elbow back into the man's chest. Carter was hardly big enough to do any kind of damage with such a move, which almost any schoolboy could manage better, but it startled No. 4 and the gun barrel slipped off Carter's neck momentarily and he turned and broke the man's nose with his left palm, rocketing his hand forward like a power to the people salute gone terribly wrong.
Actually the character reminds me less of Perry's heroes than of Richard Stark's Parker, although Carter appears to be a good guy. A most enjoyable story.
The writing advice for decades has been: Start as far along in the action as you can. If backstory is necessary, you can fill it in after drawing the reader into the story. One result of that is that a lot of the time the mystery is not "Who done it?" but "What was done?"
Jodie is getting on a bus late at night and she wants to be left alone. Unfortunately the last seat open is next to a chipper old lady who is eager to chat. Her name is Barbara and she is observant, too observant for Jodie's liking because Jodie has a secret to keep. And that secret - what was done? - will keep you turning pages.
Just like last week (and from the same book) it is the last sentence that made this story my favorite. Very clever tale.
"The first time I killed Royce Calhoun I’d been floating on three Wild Turkeys and a raft of rage."
And so we begin. Jake Pardee got jealous because Calhoun had been "doing the nasty" with his girlfriend Angela May, so he shot him, twice., and then took off Apparently he should have gone for the hat trick, because Jake's friend Mouse tells him that Calhoun is back, insufficiently dead, and still hanging around with Angela May.
"I had no reason to doubt Mouse, not about this anyhow. He spouted some conspiracy nonsense at times, and he had trouble always knowing right from wrong, but when it came to something like this— ratting someone out— he was usually dead on."
Charming language these low-lifes speak.
I admit it was the last sentence of the story - not so much a twist as a punchline - that made this my favorite of the week.
I have a story in this book.
This is the eighth appearance in this space by my fellow SleuthSayer Terence Faherty.
Last week I wrote about a story in this book that gave us a view of the Marx Brothers as they might have appeared in real life Today we go to the opposite extreme with a story that could be a sequel to the movie in question - and it's odd that such a bad movie could lead to such a good story.
Our narrator is private eye Wolf J. Flywheel. Groucho's character. Based on his success in saving Martha Phelps' department store in the movie he now has an office in her shop and is pursuing his detective business while also pursuing the boss.
"Martha, Martha, Martha. I could say her name a million times. Once for every greenback she has in the bank."
If his motives are less than pure, his language is pretty hilarious, and convincingly Marxist.
"The department store business is one tough racket. Machine Gun Kelly once tried to return a violin case to Macy’s without a receipt and ended up kissing the sidewalk."
I won't go into the plot. Let's just say mischief is afoot and Flywheel has to rush to the rescue with the assistance, if that;s the word I'm searching for, of an Italian blackmailer and a silent harpist. Good times.
I have a story in this book.
This is the third appearance here by Joseph S. Walker, the second this year.
One of the interesting things about an anthology like this one is seeing the many different ways authors interpret the theme. Some use the plot of the film as a jumping-off place. Others work with the on-screen personas of the brothers. This is the first one I have read that tries to show us our heroes as they might have appeared in real life.
Julia Simmons is the head of personnel and payroll at Santa Anita Racetrack and this is the day before the film crew will arrive to shoot the racing scenes for the new Marx Brothers movie. Unfortunately it is also the day that the manager of the track is murdered. The handsome detective in charge of investigating the case has many questions which keeps Julia rushing back to her office - where an odd little man in a gray suit is hanging around for no apparent reason. We will figure out his part in the story long before she does, but it's fun hearing his commentary on the action.
There's a lot of wit in this tale, and a satisfactory plot.
Xavier has job satisfaction problems. He's a hitman for One Shot Valenti and he doesn't feel a lot of job security. This is a business where getting laid off involves ceasing to breath.
Our hero has an interesting view of the world. Here he is watching a baseball game: "[W]hen there’s a conference on the mound, I amuse myself by pretending, aloud, that they’re discussing existentialist philosophy. “Coach, I can get this guy. Take a leap of faith.” “But Pedro, did the great Dane not also say, ‘The specific character of despair is precisely this: it is unaware of being despair?’ Now hand me the goddamn ball."
Honestly I didn't find the plot all that convincing, but the characters are dialog are more than worth the ride.
This is a very silly story. That is not an insult.
Southern California's funeral industry is viciously competitive when it comes to celebrity funerals. People measure a memorial park's cachet by how many stars are buried on-site. Needless to say, the plots and crypts are priced accordingly. It never fails to astonish me how many people will pay top dollar to spend their eternal rest within spitting distance of a rock star when in life, they'd have been outraged by the loud parties next door and called the police on the groupies throwing up on their lawn.
Mickey owns one such memorial park. His nemesis and ex-lover is the wonderfully named Julia Shrike. They will do anything to steal top-of-their-fame dead rockers or even over-the-hill movie stars from each other. Bribery, lies, and even grave-robbing are not off the menu.
As the tit-for-tat escalates it is anyone's guess who will wind up on top. Great fun.