Kwik Krimes
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Text copyright © 2013 Otto Penzler
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by Thomas & Mercer
PO Box 400818
Las Vegas, NV 89140
ISBN-13: 9781612183008
ISBN-10: 161218300X
Library of Congress Control Number: 2013900001
“Lambs of God” © 2013 by Patricia Abbott
“The Day After Tomorrow” © 2013 by Winterfall LLC
“Hansel, Gretel, and the Witch” © 2013 by Gary Alexander
“Preparations” © 2013 by Tasha Alexander
“Thunder at the Horizon” © 2013 by Winterfall LLC
“Fortune” © 2013 by Erik Arneson
“One Person’s Clutter” © 2013 by Albert Ashforth
“Fightin’ Man” © 2013 by N.J. Ayres
“Break-In” © 2013 by Eric Beetner
“Once Upon a Time in the Woods” © 2013 by Raymond Benson
“Job Opening” © 2013 by John Billheimer
“The Chair” © 2013 by Peter Blauner
“Sucker’s Bet” © 2013 by James O. Born
“Entitled” © 2013 by Rhys Bowen
“Get the Confession” © 2013 by Jay Brandon
“Piece of Cake” © 2013 by R. Thomas Brown
“Thug City” © 2013 by Ken Bruen
“What You Wish For” © 2013 by C.E. Lawrence
“Where’s Dad?” © 2013 by Peter Cannon
“They’ll Call Me Whistlin’ Pete” © 2013 by Chuck Caruso
“The Bunny” © 2013 by William E. Chambers
“The Banyan Tree” © 2013 by Joe Clifford
“Acknowledgments” © 2013 by Christopher Coake
“The Terminal” © 2013 by Reed Farrel Coleman
“The Ant Who Carried Stones” © 2013 by David Corbett
“Watch the Skies” © 2013 by Bill Crider
“A Foolproof Plan” © 2013 by Bruce DeSilva
“A Tree in Texas” © 2013 by Joe Dereske
“After” © 2013 by Tyler Dilts
“Next Right” © 2013 by Sean Doolittle
“The Professional” © 2013 by Brendan DuBois
“The Promise” © 2013 by Warren C. Easley
“A Student of History” © 2013 by Gerald Elias
“Wolfe on the Roof” © 2013 by Loren D. Estleman
“Hit Me” © 2013 by Christa Faust
“Beneath the Bridge” © 2013 by Lyndsay Faye
“The Girl Who Loved French Films” © 2013 by Christopher Fowler
“David to Goliath” © 2013 by Matthew C. Funk
“The One Who Got Away” by Jim Fusilli
“Halloween” © 2013 by Carolina Garcia-Aguilera
“The Old Gal” © 2013 by Gregory Gibson
“Necessity” © 2013 by Ed Gorman
“Lost Cat” © 2013 by Ron Goulart
“Sunday in the Park with Sarge” © 2013 by Chris Grabenstein
“Nails” © 2013 by James Grady
“Lye” © 2013 by Derek Haas
“The Pledge” © 2013 by Parnell Hall
“Games People Play” © 2013 by Bruce Harris
“Built with Love” © 2013 by Jamie Harrison
“The Gun with Two Triggers” © 2013 by Rob W. Hart
“Blindfolded” © 2013 by John Harvin
“Present Company” © 2013 by Michael Haynes
“The Einstein Divorce” © 2013 by Gar Anthony Haywood
“Fringe Benefit” © 2013 by Jeremiah Healy
“Wyolene” © 2013 by Sam Hill
“AKA” © 2013 by Steve Hockensmith
“Hijackers” © 2013 by Multimedia Threat, Inc.
“Full Bloom” © 2013 by Wendy Hornsby
“The Blackmailers Wanted More” © 2013 by David Housewright
“Nothing Left to Lose” © 2013 by Dana C. Kabel
“In the Hours Before Her Death” © 2013 by Michael Kardos
“Arson and Old Luce” © 2013 by Marvin Kaye
“Daddy’s Girl” © 2013 by Nicola Kennington
“Countdown” © 2013 by John Kenyon
“ATM: Get Cash Inside” © 2013 by Jonathon King
“Testimony” © 2013 by Amalgamated Metaphor
“Losing My Religion” © 2013 by K.A. Laity
“The Tenth Notch” © 2013 by Jon Land
“The Ear” © 2013 by Joe R. Lansdale
“The Imperfect Detective” © 2013 by Janice Law
“Michael Coalhouse” © 2013 by Adrian McKinty
“Dog” © 2013 by Charles McLeod
“Slow Roasted” © 2013 by M.B. Manteufel
“Saturday Night Live” © 2013 by Paul Newman
“Dealer Sets Price” © 2013 by Tom Pitts
“Death Buys a Burger” © 2013 by Stephen D. Rogers
“Hail, Tiger!” © 2013 by Cindy Rosmus
“Fall Guy” © 2013 by Jim Spry
“Death by Sobriety” © 2013 by J.M. Vogel
“A Russian Storm” © 2013 by Andrew Waters
“Hell’s Belle” © 2013 by Jim J. Wilsky
For Ian Kern
With thanks for making this book better.
And for the amazing job you do every day.
CONTENTS
INTRODUCTION
LAMBS OF GOD Patricia Abbott
THE DAY AFTER TOMORROW Richard Aleas
HANSEL, GRETEL, AND THE WITCH Gary Alexander
PREPARATIONS Tasha Alexander
THUNDER AT THE HORIZON Charles Ardai
FORTUNE Erik Arneson
ONE PERSON’S CLUTTER Albert Ashforth
FIGHTIN’ MAN N.J. Ayres
BREAK-IN Eric Beetner
ONCE UPON A TIME IN THE WOODS Raymond Benson
JOB OPENING John Billheimer
THE CHAIR Peter Blauner
SUCKER’S BET James O. Born
ENTITLED Rhys Bowen
GET THE CONFESSION Jay Brandon
PIECE OF CAKE R. Thomas Brown
THUG CITY Ken Bruen
WHAT YOU WISH FOR C.E. Lawrence
WHERE’S DAD? Peter Cannon
THEY’LL CALL ME WHISTLIN’ PETE Chuck Caruso
THE BUNNY William E. Chambers
THE BANYAN TREE Joe Clifford
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS Christopher Coake
THE TERMINAL Reed Farrel Coleman
THE ANT WHO CARRIED STONES David Corbett
WATCH THE SKIES Bill Crider
A FOOLPROOF PLAN Bruce DeSilva
A TREE IN TEXAS Jo Dereske
AFTER Tyler Dilts
NEXT RIGHT Sean Doolittle
THE PROFESSIONAL Brendan DuBois
THE PROMISE Warren C. Easley
A STUDENT OF HISTORY Gerald Elias
WOLFE ON THE ROOF Loren D. Estleman
HIT ME Christa Faust
BENEATH THE BRIDGE Lyndsay Faye
THE GIRL WHO LOVED FRENCH FILMS Christopher Fowler
DAVID TO GOLIATH Matthew C. Funk
THE ONE WHO GOT AWAY Jim Fusilli
HALLOWEEN Carolina Garcia-Aguilera
THE OLD GAL Gregory Gibson
NECESSITY Ed Gorman
LOST CAT Ron Goulart
SUNDAY IN THE PARK WITH SARGE Chris Grabenstein
NAILS James Grady
LYE Derek Haas
THE PLEDGE Parnell Hall
GAMES PEOPLE PLAY Bruce Harris
&nb
sp; BUILT WITH LOVE Jamie Harrison
THE GUN WITH TWO TRIGGERS Rob W. Hart
BLINDFOLDED John Harvin
PRESENT COMPANY Michael Haynes
THE EINSTEIN DIVORCE Gar Anthony Haywood
FRINGE BENEFIT Jeremiah Healy
WYOLENE Sam Hill
AKA Steve Hockensmith
HIJACKERS Chuck Hogan
FULL BLOOM Wendy Hornsby
THE BLACKMAILERS WANTED MORE David Housewright
NOTHING LEFT TO LOSE Dana C. Kabel
IN THE HOURS BEFORE HER DEATH Michael Kardos
ARSON AND OLD LUCE Marvin Kaye
DADDY’S GIRL Nicola Kennington
COUNTDOWN John Kenyon
ATM: GET CASH INSIDE Jonathon King
TESTIMONY Andrew Klavan
LOSING MY RELIGION K.A. Laity
THE TENTH NOTCH Jon Land
THE EAR Joe R. Lansdale
THE IMPERFECT DETECTIVE Janice Law
MICHAEL COALHOUSE Adrian McKinty
DOG Charles McLeod
SLOW ROASTED M.B. Manteufel
SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE Paul Newman
DEALER SETS PRICE Tom Pitts
DEATH BUYS A BURGER Stephen D. Rogers
HAIL, TIGER! Cindy Rosmus
FALL GUY Jim Spry
DEATH BY SOBRIETY J.M. Vogel
A RUSSIAN STORM Andrew Waters
HELL’S BELLE Jim Wilsky
ABOUT THE EDITOR
INTRODUCTION
* * *
* * *
It doesn’t take very long to commit a crime. A bullet will travel the distance between the shooter and the victim in a very small fraction of a second. The sudden stroke of a knife doesn’t take much longer. Bank robbers—those who aren’t complete imbeciles—know that there is a two-minute rule: from the time they start a robbery, the maximum time they have to take what they came for and get away before the police arrive is 120 seconds flat.
It takes longer to tell the story of a crime. Mystery novels generally run about three hundred pages, though many are much longer and quite a few are noticeably less than that.
The good ones are complex. Not only is the crime described, but there is often analysis of how it was done, why, where, and when. The perpetrators are usually described, briefly as to physical appearance, and in greater depth as to psychological makeup, particularly in recent years when detective stories became less a puzzle to determine who did it but more an examination of why the crime was done. Other major characters are also introduced to the reader: the victim, the detective (professional, private, or amateur), and the other players who serve the valuable function of throwing readers off the path to a final understanding of exactly what happened and why.
The great Golden Age writer of “impossible crime” stories, John Dickson Carr, maintained that the short story was the proper form of the mystery story—that the crime and its solution could easily be presented in twenty or thirty pages, and the rest was just padding.
So how long must a novel be to be called a novel? Too short and it’s called a novella. Too long and it’s called a bore and it doesn’t get published, the occasional exceptions aside.
And how long must a short story be to tell the story it wants to tell? I have commissioned many stories over the years for a variety of anthologies and other publishing projects. Authors customarily have three questions: How long do you want it, when do you want it, and how much are you paying? The answers to the latter two questions have various answers, but to the first I usually suggest a “normal” length of twenty to thirty pages. Actually, being a smart mouth, what I usually say is, “Start the story, tell the story, and when you’ve finished telling it, stop writing.”
As you already know, this collection is different from other anthologies. As the series editor of the annual Best American Mystery Stories of the Year, I have had brought to my attention over the past several years that a lot of interesting fiction is being published in various e-zines—electronic magazines with material available exclusively online.
Without the normal constraints of a printed book, which can be neither too long nor too short, the editors of these innovative sites have the freedom to run stories of any length at all. Many are very, very short, and would almost always be unsuitable for traditional print magazines or books. Some of these stories, I further learned, show remarkable creativity on the part of the authors who produce them.
It seemed a good idea, then, to collect a lot of these nasty little tales and assemble them in a book. It is tempting to draw the analogy of a meal made of tapas, lots of little dishes of wonderful variety, rather than a single giant portion of one dish, however delicious it may be.
This compilation went a little further than plucking the best short-short stories off the Internet, however. I thought it would be fascinating to see what authors could conjure if given the specific assignment of producing a mystery, crime, or suspense story of no more than one thousand words.
The range of style, plot, tone, voice, sensibility, and characters assembled here will astonish the reader. I didn’t think it possible to have this kind of variety, given the extraordinary restriction of so few words in which to tell a complete story, but here is the evidence that I was wrong.
Most of the stories, not surprisingly, are criminal adventures rather than detective tales because, let’s face it, it is hard to hide clues and have enough reasonable suspects in a total of about four pages. However, having said that, I must prepare you for some remarkable revelations in these pages that will turn your expectations upside down. Be prepared, too, to be at the edge of your seat as these hugely talented writers create the kind of suspense that a less accomplished practitioner would need ten times as many pages to concoct.
Please indulge me for a second while I express my gratitude to Ian Kern and Nat Sobel, both of whom who did a lot of reading and made so many excellent recommendations of stories for this collection.
Otto Penzler
New York
December 2012
LAMBS OF GOD
* * *
* * *
Patricia Abbott
The first time Kyle Murmer’s mother tried to kill him, he was nine. But he couldn’t remember a day when he didn’t worry about it. At night he asked God to smite her, but he had no hope this would happen, and it did not.
“Let me see your teeth.”
Her personal supply of dental tools twinkled fiercely in the transparent case on the top medicine chest shelf. Her left hand held his chin as the right one forced his mouth open.
“People not much older than you have lost all their teeth.”
The desire to bite down on her fingers was nearly overpowering.
On the days when she got up early enough for a frenzied completion of household chores, she hadn’t taken her medication. On good mornings, the ones when the perphenazine made her sleep late, his father fixed them a bowl of cereal and they tiptoed out of the house, sharing an embarrassed smile.
She was waiting for him when he came home from school in October of fourth grade. Hair curled, makeup applied perfectly, neatly dressed in a khaki skirt and white blouse, she wrapped panty hose around his neck. It happened with such speed, he wondered if she’d practiced it on the back of a kitchen chair.
“Where have you been?”
Her nails were inches from his face, and beads of spit, scented with dental wash, shot into his eyes. He wasn’t surprised. His life so far seemed exactly like a place where such things happened. A place where mothers might practice lassoing kids.
“At school.”
“Liar,” she said, dragging him around the kitchen by his neck. “The devil has you in his grip.”
“I was at school,” he repeated, trying to wait out this bad stretch.
That’s what his father always called it—a bad stretch. Kyle and his father were always waiting for the other shoe to fall—another phrase his dad used a lot.
“They called and said you weren’t there
. Said your desk was empty, no coat on your hook.”
“That was on Monday.” His mouth was so dry, his voice scratched it.
Her eyes looked like the dead blooms on an African violet, and a sort of eggy smell began to radiate from her mouth.
“You forgot to call the attendance line, and they called here. On Monday,” he repeated.
Her grip on the panty hose loosened. Then she was sitting at the table, collapsed and sobbing. “Don’t tell your father. I wanted to lift you up to God.” She raised her arms, and he tried hard not to flinch.
But he did tell his father; how could he not?
“Let me see your neck.” His father ran a light finger over the bruises. “Your mother means well, but she gets confused. Must’ve been a hormonal thing. Maybe the thought of having another kid just broke her. Probably flushed her meds.”
Another kid—no one had told Kyle. In fact, he understood none of what his father had said but knew he’d have to be even more careful.
His father also told Kyle he’d found signs she tried to kill the baby.
At the Church of the Living God, even birth-control devices were forbidden—an impediment to the holy duty of women to bear as many children as possible. Children were the lambs of God. Abortion would mean expulsion.
When Kyle was sixteen, his mother attacked him while he slept. Her fists were hammers on his head. In her pocket was a small knife. She tried to carve Aramaic words into his forehead.
“The devil will flee once you’re marked.” She’d flattened a crumpled piece of paper with the proper marks on his bedside table. A flashlight shone on it.
His mother was jailed for several weeks, and he went to school with two strange marks on his forehead. Nobody asked about them. Such things were not unheard of at his school.
Kyle began college in Ann Arbor and never came home if he could help it.
“I have to work at the library over the break,” he told them. “I need to study for finals—I’m helping out at my church.” The last was a lie. He’d given God a chance and been turned down.
“Kyle.” It was his sister, Jolene, whispering on the phone. “Mom thinks I’m having sex. I don’t—I don’t even know what having sex means.”
Lambs of God didn’t need such information. Information led to experimentation, ruin.