At Witt's End: A Spade/Paladin Conundrum

By Kristine Kathryn Rusch

When legendary science fiction fan Brendan Witt dies, Secret Master of Fandom and private detective Spade finds himself planning a memorial charity auction to honor Witt's final wishes.

But when some very rare and highly collectible fanzines go missing, Spade and Paladin must race to find them before anyone notices.

Just one problem: Why they went missing might just prove the biggest mystery of all.

 "This series is a fun glimpse into the world of science fiction fandom."

—Gumshoes, Gats, and Gams

 "Great characters."

—Little Big Crimes

"I hope to read many more stories about Spade and Paladin."

—Mystery Scene

• Language: English
• Publisher: WMG Publishing
• Release date: Oct 4, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386298373

Kristine Kathryn Rusch

USA Today bestselling author Kristine Kathryn Rusch writes in almost every genre. Generally, she uses her real name (Rusch) for most of her writing. Under that name, she publishes bestselling science fiction and fantasy, award-winning mysteries, acclaimed mainstream fiction, controversial nonfiction, and the occasional romance. Her novels have made bestseller lists around the world and her short fiction has appeared in eighteen best of the year collections. She has won more than twenty-five awards for her fiction, including the Hugo, Le Prix Imaginales, the Asimov’s Readers Choice award, and the Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine Readers Choice Award. Publications from The Chicago Tribune to Booklist have included her Kris Nelscott mystery novels in their top-ten-best mystery novels of the year. The Nelscott books have received nominations for almost every award in the mystery field, including the best novel Edgar Award, and the Shamus Award. She writes goofy romance novels as award-winner Kristine Grayson, romantic suspense as Kristine Dexter, and futuristic sf as Kris DeLake.  She also edits. Beginning with work at the innovative publishing company, Pulphouse, followed by her award-winning tenure at The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, she took fifteen years off before returning to editing with the original anthology series Fiction River, published by WMG Publishing. She acts as series editor with her husband, writer Dean Wesley Smith, and edits at least two anthologies in the series per year on her own. To keep up with everything she does, go to kriswrites.com and sign up for her newsletter. To track her many pen names and series, see their individual websites (krisnelscott.com, kristinegrayson.com, krisdelake.com, retrievalartist.com, divingintothewreck.com). She lives and occasionally sleeps in Oregon.

Book preview

At Witt’s End

At Witt’s End

A Spade/Paladin Conundrum

Kristine Kathryn Rusch

WMG Publishing Inc.

Contents

At Witt’s End

Newsletter sign-up

Also by Kristine Kathryn Rusch

About the Author

At Witt’s End

A Spade/Paladin Conundrum

Brendan Witt died at age 62 in August of that year. Terrible year. An election year like no other, with both candidates screaming insults at each other, things so beyond the pale that teachers didn’t want to have their students watch the news and learn about the election.

As the fall progressed, and my friends—both left and right—began decrying the state of the horrid election, and my religious friends began to ask where God had gone in all of this, I ended up with a pat fannish answer.

God’s busy, I’d say. He’s backing up St. Peter at the Pearly Gates, because Witt is standing outside, arguing in his indomitable way that he had to return to his life to get at least ten years of Social Security, so that he could reap what he had sown.

People laughed as I said that, because they had known Witt. Most of them had been on the other side of his arguments.

Witt and I were two of many fen (hard-core science fiction fans) known by only one name. Witt because it suited him, and me because I had become the go-to guy for crime solving. Since the mid-1990s, I’ve solved everything at conventions from minor hoaxes to kidnappings.

Witt’s death wasn’t a crime, even though it was sad. He died just before the start of the Dead Dog party at the World Science Fiction convention. He had been alone in his hotel room, about to take a shower from the looks of it, and he had just keeled over. Later, the coroner said he died of complications of diabetes.

I had been at the convention so I’d been the one to handle all the concerns with the body. I tried not to think about the implications of Witt’s death, but it was hard not to. His death was the second time that year that I’d seen a dead body connected to diabetes.

Miraculously, I haven’t contracted diabetes yet, although my doc said I would eventually if I kept up my habits. I’m six-six and more than 400 pounds. I’ve been trying to add in exercise, which feels ridiculous at my size, and I’m thinking of eating better. Eating better means learning how to be a different person, and I’m not sure I’m up to the challenge.

Besides, I’ve been busy. (I’m always busy.) Witt had left his entire estate to a major Northwest charity and had asked that the money get funneled through the fannish organization that ran one of the major Northwest science fiction conventions. Witt had put that in his will so that the convention would hold a charity auction to raise matching funds to his donation. But what his convoluted inheritance actually became was an excuse for me to take control of the estate and make sure it had gotten taken care of smoothly.

Witt’s estate was worth upwards of two million dollars at today’s prices. I didn’t have all of the cash yet, because I was figuring out how to sell most of his prize collectables, but I