Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine 11/01/10 Page 14
“Hey, I’m trying to do you a favor. It’s entirely up to you. If you can’t put the cash on the table then that’s your problem. Or maybe you’re not so confident now in your cards. Do you still think I’m trying on a bluff, that I’m sitting down here with a handful of nothing? Maybe you’re having doubts about what you saw, or what you thought you saw. Maybe you’re beginning to wonder now if I might have planted the gesture in order to make you think I was bluffing.” He shrugged. “But like I said, sport. It’s entirely up to you. There’s what? Forty grand in this pot? I could walk away happily with that much right now. But I’m doing you a favor, giving you a chance. You can either take it or leave it.”
Kimble thought it over. “Okay,” he said, softly. “I call.”
“Money first, if you don’t mind. On the table. Then you can call.”
Kimble rose, crossed the room and worked open a small wall safe. The cash was neatly bound in a single wad of hundreds. “That good enough?” he asked. “Or do you want to count it too?”
Jake shook his head. “That’s okay, I trust you.”
“So?” Kimble drew a deep breath and let it out in an unsteady flush. “What have you got?”
Jake upturned his cards and fanned them out with a practiced flash of his hand. “Full house. Aces and tens.”
The air went out of Kimble like a punctured wheel. He shrunk visibly, wilted down into a slouch in his chair. “I honest to God thought you were bluffing.”
Jake nodded, with some sympathy. “I know you did. What are you holding?”
“Not enough. Low straight.” He pushed back his chair but didn’t get up, perhaps didn’t quite trust himself to do so without staggering. “Well played, old man.”
“Thanks.” said Jake. He thought of offering some words of consolation but didn’t. There was nothing to say that would make things any better. He reached out and gathered in his winnings. Then a tall, thin black man appeared in the doorway. For an instant, Jake felt a stirring of fear, but Kimble must have seen it because he raised an assuring hand.
“This is Leonard. Hey, Lennie, cash these chips for Mr. Tanner, will you?”
Leonard stared a moment at the pile of chips, then shrugged. “Sure thing, Mr. Kimble.” He gathered up the chips and disappeared, only to return a few minutes later with a small black leather satchel full of money. “It’s all there,” he said, though nobody had posed the question. “Forty-two thousand.” He put the satchel down on the table and left.
“Well,” said Jake, picking up the car keys and rattling them before slipping them into his jacket pocket. “I guess I’ll be heading on home now. See how the Giants got on. I still have them down for the pennant this year, even after last night. Everyone makes mistakes once in a while, don’t they? What matters is how well you bounce back, and how quickly. So try not to beat yourself up too badly over this, sport. You played a pretty good game tonight. It’s just that I’ve been playing cards a long, long time.”
He hesitated a moment longer, then nodded to himself and moved toward the door. He was just about to open the door when Kimble stopped him.
“One thing. Just before you go. I need to know what happened.”
Jake turned. The whisper of fear was back. “What happened with what?”
“The story. What happened to the monks?”
“Oh, the monks. We shot them. Well, can’t have that sort of thing, can we? It’s like our lieutenant said. They were vultures, feeding on the weak. They deserved to die, he said. If the truth be told, I felt really bad about doing it, still do as a matter of fact, but I guess maybe they were better off dead. I mean, feeding off the bones of their companions is no way to live. A man ought to be able to turn his back without feeling the blade of a knife between his shoulders. Especially where his so-called friends are concerned. I guess that when trust goes, well, everything else follows pretty quickly.” He smiled then, and cast an obvious and knowing glance at Wilson, one that would have been impossible for Kimble to miss. “If you’re not sure what I mean, Mr. Kimble, you might consider asking your friend Wilson here. I’m quite sure he can explain.”
Then, without another word, he opened the door and stepped out onto the landing. He was shaking inside, but with exhilaration now as well as fear. He started down the stairs slowly, holding onto the handrail for balance. The landing below was dark, and the open door gave on to a very dark street. In the background, he could hear the rumble of voices, and then raised voices. Outside, the chill of the night closed around him. He found the Mercedes alone at the curb side, got in and drove away quickly, before he was forced to hear anything worse.
Copyright © 2010 Billy O’Callaghan
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For the armchair traveler, mystery novels can offer insights into the customs and cultures of foreign countries. Four recent, well-researched novels capture the sights and sounds of four Asian cultures....
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LINDA LANDRIGAN, EDITOR
Wanted: Jim Fusilli, John H. Dirckx, and Brendan DuBois for award-worthy fiction. Fusilli’s Edgar-nominated story “Digby, Attorney at Law” (May 2009) has been shortlisted for a In...
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For the armchair traveler, mystery novels can offer insights into the customs and cultures of foreign countries. Four recent, well-researched novels capture the sights and sounds of four Asian cultures.
Colin Cotterill takes us to Laos for a sometimes-frightening journey in the company of the delightful Dr. Siri Paiboun in LOVE SONGS FROM A SHALLOW GRAVE (Soho, $25), the seventh book in a series that began in 2004 with The Coroner’s Lunch.
On the morning of his seventy-fourth birthday, Dr. Paiboun is handcuffed to a lead pipe in a Cambodian prison. How the coroner came to be held prisoner in such a foul place unfolds throughout the book, as does his involvement in the investigation of three strange murders in Laos. Three young women, in separate locations, have been skewered by épées, or dueling swords, which are, needless to say, a rarity in Laos. In addition, each of the women studied abroad in one of the Eastern bloc countries.
Dr. Siri Paiboun and his friend and colleague Inspector Phosy operate under a wide variety of handicaps including government interference, interference by the Vietnamese (the first murder took place at a Vietnamese compound), and an almost complete lack of forensic tools.
Siri endures his imprisonment and the investigation with a terrific combination of humor and resolve. Cotterill has given Siri a strong supporting cast and exhibits a fine understanding of a country and people who have endured a long history of occupation (French, American, Chinese, Vietnamese) with real fortitude. It is always a pleasure to discover a rewarding series, and judging by this entry, readers should pick up a copy of the first book and prepare for an enjoyable journey.
Susan Oleksiw’s five previous novels have featured Massachusetts Police Chief Joe Silva. Now with Under the Eye of Kali (Five Star, $25.95) she has a new series and lead character, photographer Anita Ray, who was first introduced in an AHMM story (“A Murder Made in India,” Oct. 2003). Anita’s mother is Indian; her father, Irish-American. Anita lives with her Aunt Meena in the coastal village of Kovalam near the southern tip of India, where Anita helps her aunt run the small Hotel Delite and where she also has a stall to display and sell her photography.
Both businesses depend entirely on the tourist trade, and Anita’s ability to serve as a sort of cultural ambassador to both natives and foreigners is often useful. Visitors to Kovalam come from many countries for many reasons and with varying expectations, and many are unprepared for what they find. One visitor hopes to smuggle much needed medical supplies into Burma, another finds herself spiritually called by the goddess Kali, and yet another is bent on avenging a gr
eat wrong. But when one of the hotel guests goes missing and another has to be hospitalized with apparent food poisoning, Anita fears the events are not the result of coincidence.
Anita’s determination to discover who or what is behind a fatal fall leads her into danger and takes the reader into a fascinating ancient culture that is rapidly changing with modernization. Oleksiw, who trained as a Sanskritist at the University of Pennsylvania and has a PhD in Asian studies, applies a lively intelligence and empathy to her depiction of the people of Kovalam and their visitors. Here’s hoping that we will see more of Anita Ray and her Aunt Meena.
Punjabi detective Vish Puri, northern India’s “Most Private Investigator,” continues to confound and confuse his enemies in The Case of the Man Who Died Laughing (Simon & Schuster, $24) by Tarquin Hall. In his delightful second outing the hefty Delhi investigator takes on a case that might have baffled Sherlock Holmes.
While Puri handles a variety of cases, most of them easily, it is the amazing demise of Dr. Suresh Jha that takes all of Puri’s ingenuity to solve. Dr. Jha, founder of the Delhi Institute for Rationalism and Education (DIRE), has made many enemies debunking both magicians and “Godmen” who claim to perform religious miracles. In particular he has earned the enmity of His Holiness Maharaj Swami, regarded by many as a living saint.
Ignoring death threats Dr. Jha attends an outdoor morning meeting of a laughter therapy group, and while other members of the group stand transfixed and unable to move, the terrifying figure of the four-armed goddess Kali appears, levitates, and thrusts her sword into Dr. Jha’s chest, killing him instantly. Puri investigates the three magicians he believes capable of creating the kind of illusion that hid the murder, even sending an undercover operative into the massive ashram run by Swami-Ji, his Abode of Eternal Love.
In addition to this main investigation, Hall offers plenty of other amusements including Puri’s attempts to keep his doltish brother-in-law Jaideep Bagga from his latest foolish enterprise and Puri’s mother’s determination to solve a daring daylight robbery without having to bother her son.
Hall’s emphasis is emphatically on providing amusing entertainment built around Puri’s voracious appetite and his unorthodox methods but he also gives his detective a devilishly difficult case to solve and brains enough to solve it.
Indian-born Rajorshi Chakraborti, who teaches creative writing at the University of Edinburgh, takes the reader on a dizzying journey that relies not on geography, though it moves from Calcutta to London to Brazil, but also on the intricate interplay between the twin stories he tells. Shadow Play (St. Martin’s Minotaur, $24.99) may confound readers in his surreal book within a book featuring the author as a character in a novel that moves from his native India to England, Brazil, and Europe.
In segments called “The Perfect Worker,” Chakraborti relates the story of Charles Robert Pereira: “a Hindu from India, born a Catholic, lived in London, moved to Brazil, speaking Portuguese with a Portuguese accent.” Pereira is a killer who is co-opted into becoming an unwilling tool for unknown masters. Alternating segments labeled “The Writer of Rare Fictions” tell Chakraborti’s own life story through his marriage to filmmaker Ana da Lima and the reasons for his decision to disappear from the world.
The two segments tend to merge and tangle in mind-bending fashion as Chakraborti’s connection to a young journalist who is murdered results in him becoming either a suspect or the killer’s next target. Endnotes offered by Chakraborti’s editor, Ellery King, and clarification of certain points by Ana da Lima only serve to deepen the mystery as the author and his creation blur the definition of reality.
John Grisham has scored one bestseller after another since the success of his second novel, The Firm. Now he’s taking a page from the playbook of colleagues such as Carl Hiaasen, Robert B. Parker, and James Patterson and bending his talents to a younger audience.
THEODORE BOONE: KID LAWYER (Dutton Children’s Books, $16.99) is Grisham’s first entry aimed at young readers age 8-12, and like his adult fiction it blends murder, suspense, courtroom maneuverings, and ethical quandaries in pleasing fashion.
Thirteen-year-old Theo comes by his legal leanings honestly: Both parents are lawyers, as is Uncle Ike, though he’s something of a black sheep. His father, Woods Boone, is a real estate attorney, and mother, Marcella Boone, specializes in divorce cases.
Theo absorbs everything he can from his parents as well as from observing courtroom behavior whenever he gets an opportunity. Thus he is able to help or advise his Strattenburg classmates dealing with everything from an ugly divorce and custody trial to an impounded dog to a possible foreclosure. But Theo finds himself in way over his head when a classmate tells him that his cousin, an illegal immigrant, was witness to a defendant’s suspicious behavior in an ongoing and sensational murder trial.
Torn between the dilemma of possibly watching a guilty man get away with murder or betraying his promise of confidentiality, Theo gets a bitter taste of adult realities. Grisham provides clear explanations of the workings of various courts and the limitations and obligations of the law and lawyers. Theodore Boone: Kid Lawyer sets the stage for Theo and his family to appear in additional novels.
ALL POINTS BULLETIN: Pegasus Books releases the newest John Ceepak mystery by Chris Grabenstein, ROLLING THUNDER, set on the Jersey shore. Mr. Grabenstein’s 2009 young adult novel, THE HANGING HILL (Random House), won an Agatha Award, presented this spring at the Malice Domestic Convention in Arlington, Virginia • Molly MacRae’s contentious sisters Margaret and Bitsy have appeared in seven issues of AHMM; they now make their novel debut in December in LAWN ORDER (Five Star) • Dave Zeltserman followed up the May release of his crime novel, KILLER (Serpent’s Tail) with his supernatural thriller THE CARETAKER OF LORNE FIELD (August, Overlook Press).
Copyright © 2010 Robert C. Hahn
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LINDA LANDRIGAN, EDITOR
Wanted: Jim Fusilli, John H. Dirckx, and Brendan DuBois for award-worthy fiction. Fusilli’s Edgar-nominated story “Digby, Attorney at Law” (May 2009) has been shortlisted for a Macavity Award, sponsored by Mystery Readers International, while Dirckx’s “Real Men Die” (September 2009) and DuBois’s “The High House Writer” (July/August 2009) have both been named finalists for the Barry Award, sponsored by Deadly Pleasures. Congratulations and good luck to all three!
In custody: this month’s issue features the return of Gar Anthony Haywood’s P.I. Aaron Gunner, last seen in the 1999 novel All the Lucky Ones Are Dead. Welcome back!
Unlawful gathering (anticipated): As we go to press, we are looking forward to the 2010 Bouchercon in San Francisco. Bouchercon is one of the largest conventions of mystery writers and readers, with something for everyone. See you there!
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