Over at SleuthSayers today I review the best short mysteries of the year, all selected from the ones I reviewed here.
Robert A. Heinlein wrote a short story called "If This Goes On---" That title sums up a subgenre of science fiction. Here is a trend I see in present day society; what if it continues to its logical conclusion?
We already have for-profit prisons. Some people want to replace most public institutions with private ones. So, Finlay asks, what if the whole justice system was for-profit?
Crimes would not be investigated unless the victims, or someone else, pay for the police time. Criminals could shell out dough to get out of prison. (Well, today we call that hiring a good lawyer, don't we?) And so on.
Finlay doesn't lecture us. In the best tradition of the field he shows, not tells. Detective Chung is not a fan of the for-profit system but today it works in her favor, because she eye-witnessed the son of the wealthiest woman in the country committing a hit and run. And this gives her leverage, if she can figure out how to use it...
This is apparently one of those anthologies that came into being miraculously without an editor. At least none is credited.
Some stories from the criminal's point of view are 90% planning and 10% crime. This is one of the opposite type: 10% crime and 90% getaway. It's not enough to do the nefarious deed; you have to escape afterwards. See Jim Thompson's great novel The Getaway, for instance.
And that's Ronnie Maul's dilemma. He is, as the title promises, a professional assassin. He quickly disposes of his target, but the cops arrive before he can make his exit. His only option for a hiding place is a bookstore. And the only way he can stay in there is by claiming to be part of a book club discussing a romance novel.
Not surprisingly he is the only man in the group. Not surprisingly the other members take quite an interest in the newcomer.
I guessed where this was going but I had good time getting there. Surely the most charming hitman story I have read in quite a while.
The narrator is the driver and mechanic for a wealthy couple he refers to sardonically as His Lordship and Her Ladyship. The (new trophy) wife is a particular pain in the posterior. The teenage kids hate her, with good reason. The narrator hates her with even more reason.
His efforts to help the daughter only make things worse. Can he save the situation?
A lot of unexpected twists in this one.
This is the second appearance in my reviews by April Kelly.
Kelly writes funny. In this case she writes funny about that familiar topic, the incompetent criminal. Two of them, in fact: Lyle and Pooter Floyd. These brothers are desperate for money.
Now you may be asking yourself why they didn’t just get jobs, but that would be a dead giveaway you aren’t from around here. Floyds didn’t get jobs; they got married. Once upon a time, their father snagged himself a homely teacher rapidly moving past her sell-by date, walked her down the aisle, and for the next twenty-five years really tested the “for poorer” part of her vows...
Lacking the charm to convince an employable woman to join the family, the brothers have decided to make a living robbing storage units.
"Lyle and Pooter scored enough from their bi-weekly foraging to keep beer in the fridge and porn on the cable," but their ambitions are soon raised to a higher level.
Ah, hubris will come for us all. A very funny story.
One of the contributing authors send me a free e-copy of this book.
Bannerman is a hit man but his assignment this time is different: figure out which of several men is the biological father of his client, Luisa Rovayo, a rising superstar in the media business. Sounds pretty simple but as soon as he establishes the DNA connection for Daddy "the security guards tried to kill him with a wire garrotte."
Turns out Rovayo doesn't want anyone knowing about her paternity and she's willing to kill a lot of people to kill her secret.
A nice action tale that made my best-of-the-week list because of its clever ending.
This is the eleventh story by my friend to grace this column, making Walker the undisputed champion, for the moment.
I am a sucker for comic caper stories. I don't remember the last time I laughed out loud so many times at a story as I did at this one, from its sly first sentence to its calamitous end.
Marty is a no-talent who manages to marry into an influential family. Sounds good, right? Alas, the family happens to be the Irish mob. They get tired of him being useless and decide he has to become part of a robbery. He will attend an office party dressed as Santa while his two brothers-in-law, dressed as elves, slip off to rob another office. What could possibly go wrong?
Colm punched Marty hard in the arm. “Stop saying ho ho ho,” he said. “You sound like somebody beat you over the head with the North Pole.”
And then there's the cops. And the strippers. Ho ho ho.
I have a story in this book.
One of the interesting things about themed anthologies is how different authors choose wildly different approaches. If the theme is a song, do you riff on the plot (like last week's story) or take a completely different approach?
Jimmy is married to Clark, a successful writer. The relationship works pretty well but Jimmy feels Clark has secrets, things he can't really know. "It's like staring at a bright-flecked pet goldfish. You admire it, feed it, clean its bowl, but you can't quite reach it. After all, you breathe air, while it breathes water. That's what you sign up for when you marry a writer."
I hope my wife doesn't think of me as a goldfish, but that's neither here nor there.
One day Jimmy sees Baxter, a former friend of Clark's, leaving their apartment building. And he learns about a secret those two share, not an infidelity, but something much worse.
How does that relate to the song "Eleanor Rigby?" Ah, that's the cleverest part of the story.
I have a story in this book.
A few weeks ago I wrote here that I prefer my horror human. I will let you decide whether this story is horror, and if so whether my preference apples.
Lindsay and Julian plan a vacation in the hopes of enlivening their marriage. Unfortunately their preferred destination falls through so they are offered a larger and more expensive house to stay in. Turns out there is a reason the house is not so popular: several murders took place there.
As soon as Lindsay approaches the place she gets a bad feeling, like something doesn't want her to go in... I should mention that Lindsay had a bad accident years ago that leaves her with headaches. Is there a connection between her illness and the unwelcoming sensation?
A nicely suspenseful and spooky tale with layers of complication I haven't even mentioned.
The publisher sent me a free copy of this book.
One night Nahum is awakened by a banging at the door. His grown daughter Michal has arrived.
"I killed him. I killed him. I think I killed him."
It was a traffic accident, a hit-and-run. Nahum is determined to protect her from the police, whatever it takes. He has the obvious paternal reasons, but there is also an incident in his past that adds to his sense of responsibility.
A nice, suspenseful story.
Kit's life went to hell two years ago and he has been homeless in Chicago ever since. One freezing day he figures out a way to break into a mansion which is empty and for sale. The perfect place to get a warm night's sleep!
It turns out to not be so easy. Every night someone new shows up, searching for a hard drive the absentee owner possibly hid in the building.
What's on the drive? Who are all the people who want it? And, most important, where the heck is it?
A fun story.
As far as I can tell, this is only the second time an author has appeared in my best-of column twice in the same month. Even more impressive (to me, at any rate), this is Helms' tenth story to make it here, which puts him in a tie for first place with Mark Thielman, Joseph S. Walker, and Terence Faherty.
Dave and Sam have bit parts in a Broadway play, as policemen. They only show up at the very end which leaves them with a lot of time on their hands. One night Dave goes out for a bite and the clerk gives him his food for free. "Thank you for your service."
This happens because Dave is wearing his costume - which is to say, something that looks very much like a police uniform.
Hmm...
Dave reports this to Sam who is the imaginative type. I'll bet you can think of some of the plans he comes up with. And being brighter than Sam you can probably foresee some of the things that could go wrong.
But not all of the ones Helms dreams up.
Clever plot and very funny writing.
"If we're caught, we'll be fired!" I yelled.
"We're actors!" Sam yelled back. "Getting fired is part of the deal!"
This is the second story by Ziskin I have reviewed here.
Dialog is character. If fiction is told in first person, narrative is also character.
Though I cannot claim to be a handsome man, I, Nelson Blanchard am -- as it happens -- a rich one. Quite rich, in fact. And that state of affairs has long compensated for my lack of physical allure.
I think that piece tells you a lot more about Nelson than just his financial state and appearance. His personality rings through, doesn't it?
Nelson has been summoned to a hotel where a wife-swapping event has been going on. While annoyed that he was left out (does his personality have something to do with it?) he is being asked to solve the murder by strangulation of one of the participants.
Why him and not the police? Well, he is a doctor. And if they can solve the case before the cops arrive things will be a lot less messy.
And so Nelson interrogates the suspects, and falls in love and/or lust with at least one of them. A funny and clever story.
This is the ninth appearance in my column by Richard Helms. A perusal of those tales shows that he is one of my favorite current authors of private eye stories. One reason for that is that he finds unusual things for his P.I.s to do.
Take, for instance, Cletus Nobile, a World War I veteran, now doing the gumshoe gig in Charleston. His current assignment? Figure out who is selling unauthorized booze in the segregated section of town. "You can sell all you want west of the Ashley River. Nobody cares what you do out there. Try to sell your hooch south of the Citadel and between the rivers, you'll dance with the devil, and he always leads."
Good writing, good plot.
The first four paragraphs of what I wrote last week apply again to this one.
So: What's a mystery? Most of the world goes by Otto Penzler's definition: A mystery is a story in which crime or the threat of crime is a major element. It's useful, although a little broad. (It includes Oedipus Rex, Hamlet, and The Brothers Karamazov, for example.)
When I first read Van Camp's piece I thought: This is a really fine tale. Too bad it isn't a crime story, because if it was, it would be my choice for the week.
But then I thought about it some more (and this is definitely a story you are likely to think about) and concluded, heck yes, it is a crime story. Just not one that fits into any of the familiar subgenres. So here we are.
The narrator has just made it to the finals of the Scariest. Story. Ever contest using a story he learned from a village elder. Tomorrow he will be flown to Yellowknife for the finals. But he needs to find an even better story to tell, so he goes to another elder, his Uncle Mike. and tries to convince him to tell him a properly horrifying tale.
And Mike obliges. Sort of.
How does crime get involved? And why is there so much to think about? You'll probably want to read the story twice to sort it all out. It's worth it.
Bear with me. I have a lot to say before I get to the story today.
Let's start with the subtitle of the book. Since reading Adam Smyer's book I have tried to avoid using the word "dark" except to mean a level of light or color. Not my place to tell people of color what words to use, but it was the first thing I noticed.
Second, I figured "dark fiction" probably meant crime here, but in this book it generally means horror. Horror is not my thing and writing about it is not my mandate here. But I have been working my way through the book, looking for relevant material that rang my chimes.
Third, I did not technically read this book at all. I have an audiobook version so, for the first time in my memory, I am reviewing stories I listened to. That just means I am less likely to quote passages.
Now, onto the story, which is terrific. Here is how it starts:
White Hills is everything Marissa ever wanted, right down to the welcome sign by the community mail drop reminding everyone of the HOA rules. Some people don't like HOAs, but Marissa loves them.
Let's hear some more about our protagonist.
Marissa has many accomplishments. Her body, for one. Tucked and toned and filled to perfection by the best professional surgeons, trainers, and estheticians Houston has to offer.
So Marissa is perhaps a bit shallow and self-satisfied with her wealthy new husband. As the story goes on we watch her rattling off current cliches and mantras with her life. But does she really fit in in White Hills?
One night she springs two surprises on her husband. The one she is excited about: she's pregnant. The one she didn't give a thought to before mentioning: she's part Native American. And suddenly things change.
You may assume that this is a story about a husband turning violent. It's not. It isn't supernatural either. If there is horror here it is strictly human, and that's the way I like it.
Well, you can't argue about truth in advertising. The title tells you exactly what this story is about. Shamu is an orca at SeaWorld (the eighteenth to bear that name) and thanks to new technology she is able to communicate with people. Turns out she is, as the title says, a brilliant detective. The story is narrated by her assistant, Angie Gomez.
A billionaire who owns a baseball team wants to hire Shamu to find a missing ballplayer. Shamu turns him down because, she says, his moustache "reminded me of a sea lion with whom I once shared billing. An unapologetic ham." But when the ballplayer is murdered and his sister comes looking for help, Shamu takes on the case.
One of the pleasures of this story is Shamu's dialog. Here she is talking to her police nemesis: "I can solve the case in time for you to get home and rest your minuscule human brain."
I can't help wondering whether this story was an entry for the Black Orchid Novella Award. It has several winks to Rex Stout fans. (Shamu's use of the word "flummery, for example.) And it cleverly forces the protagonist to be an "armchair" detective. Shamu ain't going to the scene of the crime.
Clever and fun.
A nice private eye story. I can't quite figure out when it takes place, except that Hollywood is swarming with B-movie cowboys. One of them is a friend of our narrator, P.I. Nate Ross, and that friend has a friend and business partner named (all right, nicknamed) Pooter. Pooter has two things of great interest: a ton of money and a girlfriend named Cassie Plumm.
Nate, "being both by profession and disposition [a] suspicious guy" thought she might be more interested in Pooter's bankroll than his charming personality. Then Cassie comes to him for his professional help. A former boyfriend is threatening her and she wants Nate to eliminate him. Nate doesn't specialize in the kind of elimination she is hoping for but he is willing to look into the matter.
I won't go into detail about what happens but it hits a lot of the classic hardboiled dick motifs. And it's a fun read.
Gavin's retirement is not going the way he hoped. His beloved wife died just after they moved into their new home. He isn't functioning well, just going through the motions, and some of those motions involve putting up in his yard the little library Stacey had purchased. A teacher, she had acquired heaps of children's books and wanted to give them away.
Dutifully, Gavin sets up the little library and stocks it with books. But someone keeps emptying it, stealing all the contents. Is it Fay, the nice divorcee who has taken an interest in him? Is it some local no-good? Maybe a kid?
This is a well-written story I enjoyed. I have to say I wasn't crazy about the ending. Could have used a little foreshadowing, in my opinion.
This is Liza Cody's third appearance in this column.
Among the rules decreed to new writers of fiction is this one: Create a likable protagonist.
Cody seems to have missed the memo. Sheena, the narrator of this tour-de-force novella, is a horrible person and I can't remember the last tine I rooted so hard for the main character of a tale to lose.
How bad is she? Well, she never refers to her only child as anything but "the annoying kid." She has nothing but insults for her only two friends, one of whom she says "I don't like much."
But worse, when she decides that "the marriage was worn as thin as the hall carpet," she set her sights on an artist. The fact that he had been in a relationship for decades only made it more of a challenge. She describes the long process of joining up with the artist.
Sheena is a scary, narcissistic, probably delusional, menace. You wouldn't want to meet her, but she makes a fascinating protagonist.
This is one of those mysterious books that came into existence without an editor. And this is, I believe the first story from Crimeucopia to make my best of the week list.
What is the difference between comedy and farce? Farce is the extreme end of the spectrum, clowning, no suspension of disbelief necessary. Neil Simon's The Odd Couple is comedy, his Murder by Death is farce.
And what Sheehy offers us today is farce. Here's how it starts:
I'm done writing first-person point-of-view stories. My latest saga of a modern family stretching back several generations, voiced by 72 first-person characters including pet dogs and cats and a crow circling the narrative dispensing omniscient commentary, had been soundly rejected by dozens of publishers.
Can't say that I blame them. But my first question: is this meta? Is this Sheehy telling us something about his writing?
No, as it turns out this is his character, who is a writer. But now it gets confusing, because our hero, still writing in first person, visits a library where he encounters...
A tall dude, six-feet-four with a shaved head, wore a gold chain over a tight turtleneck that showed off a thick musculature gained from years of pumping iron at Cumberland Correction on a narcotics charge. Inside the joint the dude known as Craz had been the leader of a brutal and murderous prison gang.
Wait a minute! How does our character know all this? Have we wandered into third person omniscient narration?
Strap in. It's going to be a wild ride.
I don't usually notice a theme in issues of AHMM or EQMM but this one is centered on games. Last week I wrote about a boxing story. This week it's basketball. There's also baseball, computer games, and I haven't finished it yet.
But let's get to Waskin's tale.
Connor is a college ball player but he knows he isn't good enough to make it to the NBA. That's just the tip of the iceberg of his problems: his father's in prison, his girlfriend seems to be out of his league, and he's having trouble with his classes.
And then the team's star player tries to drag him into a point-shaving scam with some very nasty gangsters.
But that's just the surface. There are layers within layers here, wheels within wheels.I won't go further except to say Connor has enemies and allies you won't expect. I enjoyed this one a lot.
Foreshadowing in a story can take many forms. This tale starts deep into the action and then goes back to the beginning. I don't usually think of that as a form of foreshadowing, but it feels like it here, partly because that first scene is just a few paragraphs long.
But there is another type of foreshadowing through the story, a kind of trouble coming at the protagonist. It is obvious to the reader but it is not at all clear whether the hero, who is also the narrator, sees it. And that makes for a lovely bit of suspense.
Kelvin is a boxer, about to go into the biggest match of his career. His manager, sparring partner, and the inevitable hangers-on are all providing well-meaning contradictory advice. Ah, but is all the advice well-meaning? And will Kelvin see the spider in the web?
A very nicely written first story.
"Your 10th Bond Is Free!, by Wendall Thomas, Crime Under the Sun, A Sisters in Crime Anthology, edited by Matt Coyle, Naomi Hirahara, and Tammy Kaehler, Down and Out Books, 2023.
Ava is struggling to keep the family business afloat after her father's death. The business happens to be As You Were Bail Bonds. This means that as she grew up her family friends were cops and petty criminals. Petty because her father didn't have enough money to bail out, say murderers.
Our business model depended on aspirational, incompetent criminals accused of crimes with a bail amount under twenty-five grand.
I love that word aspirational.
When her business card is found in a homicide victim's pocket Ava's life and career are endangered. A quirky story that provides a new look at the bail bond business.
Ray is drinking more than he should His wife is gone and that led to him making a bad mistake. What's worse is that Veronica knows about it. She is the pianist at the bar where Ray does his too-much-drinking.
And, ironically, she starts nagging him just like his wife did toward the end of their marriage. Why doesn't he demand a promotion? He needs to make more money...
Just like his wife, except that Veronica's motive is different. That link between pianist and wife is the amusing spark that kept me turning pages, but there are many clever twists to come in this neat little tale.