Black Cat Weekly #5

By Richard Matheson, Darrell Schweitzer, William O’Farrell and 5 more

Black Cat Weekly presents another selection of not-to-be-missed mystery and science fiction novels and short stories. With a great lineup of modern and classic fiction, here are—

NOT DONE WITH THE NIGHT by Jay Brandon [mystery short, Barb Goffman Presents]

ROAD TO SAMARRA by Jane Roth [mystery short]

HEIRS AND HOUNDS, by Hal Charles [solve it yourself mystery]

THE SQUARED TRIANGLE, by Frank Lovell Nelson [mystery short]

ONE HOUR LATE, by William O’Farrell [short mystery novel]

TRANSIENTS, by Darrell Schweitzer [science fiction short]

FROM THE WALLS OF IREZUMI by A.R. Morlan [science fiction short]

THE MAN WHO MADE THE WORLD by Richard Matheson [science fiction short]

SLAVES TO THE METAL HORDE, by Stephen Marlowe [short science fiction novel]

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wildside Press
• Release date: Oct 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9781479463039

Book preview

Table of Contents

COPYRIGHT INFORMATION

THE CAT’S MEOW, by the Editor

NOT DONE WITH THE NIGHT by Jay Brandon

ROAD TO SAMARRA by Jane Roth

HEIRS AND HOUNDS, by Hal Charles

THE SQUARED TRIANGLE, by Frank Lovell Nelson

ONE HOUR LATE, by William O’Farrell

INTRODUCTION

A WILLIAM O’FARRELL BIBLIOGRAPHY

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

TRANSIENTS, by Darrell Schweitzer

FROM THE WALLS OF IREZUMI by A.R. Morlan

THE MAN WHO MADE THE WORLD by Richard Matheson

SLAVES TO THE METAL HORDE, by Stephen Marlow

INTRODUCTION

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

COPYRIGHT INFORMATION

Copyright © 2021 by Wildside Press LLC.

Published by Wildside Press, LLC.

wildsidepress.com | bcmystery.com

*

One Hour Late, by William O’Farrell, was originally published in Manhunt, April 1959.

Road to Samarra, by Jane Roth, was originally published in Manhunt, April 1959.

Not Done with the Night, is copyright © 2013 by Jay Brandon. Originally published in Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, April 2013. Reprinted by permission of the author.

Heirs and Hounds is copyright © 2021 by Charlie Sweet and Hal Blythe. Reprinted by permission of the authors.

Transients originally appeared in Amazing Stories, January 1987. Copyright © 1987 by Darrell Schweitzer. Reprinted by permission of the author.

From the Walls of Irezume is copyright © 2001 by A.R. Morlan. Originally published online in Sci Fiction, October 17, 2001. Reprinted by permission of the author’s estate.

The Man Who Made the World, by Richard Matheson, was originally published in Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy, February 1954.

Slaves to the Metal Horde, by Stephen Marlow (writing as Milton Lesser), originally appeared in Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy, June 1954.

The Squared Triable, by Frank Lovell Nelson, originally appeared in newspaper syndication in 1908.

THE CAT’S MEOW, by the Editor

Welcome to our fifth Black Cat Weekly—which actually marks the 210th week of our ebook project at bcmystery.com. This time, we have terrific mysteries from Jay Brandon, Jane Roth, and Frank Lovell Nelson; a solve-it-yourself short from Hal Charles; and a short crime novel by William O’Farrell. For lovers of the fantastic, we have mind-bending science fiction stories From A.R. Morlan, Richard Matheson, and Darrell Schweitzer—plus a pulp post-apocalypse novel by Stephen Marlowe (who wrote in those days as Milton Lesser) featuring robots trying to take over the world.

For those who have been enjoying the Paul Di Filippo Presents feature, unfortunately Paul has had to step down. I’m delighted to announce that World Fantasy Award-winning editor Darrell Schweitzer has agreed to step into his shoes, and starting in late October, we will begin showcasing stories Darrell selects. Barb Goffman Presents is, of course, continuing under Barb’s able leadership.

Next week will feature our first original story in Black Cat Weekly—Bobbi Chukran’s The Passing of Big Mama Mayhall, a terrific tale that we are delighted to debut here. And it won’t the the last original, either. (I can safely say that because we have a Halloween-themed original by Barb Goffman coming up soon!)

We will have more exciting announcements in coming weeks. Stay tuned!

—John Betancourt

Editor, Black Cat Weekly

NOT DONE WITH THE NIGHT

by Jay Brandon

The Barb Goffman Presents series showcases modern

masterpieces of mystery, crime, and suspense selected by

acclaimed mystery author and editor Barb Goffman.

Just outside the bar, Gerald glanced over his shoulder and saw the car pulling to a stop a block away. Two shapes inside. Then he walked inside and stood looking around. It was a Thursday night, almost the weekend, the place was fairly crowded. There weren’t many bars in this gentrifying but not entirely tamed part of Philadelphia where a woman would likely come by herself or with a friend. This was the prime one.

He scanned the room and saw her at a small table near the bar, an empty wineglass across from her. But from the way she looked around the room and didn’t take the opportunity of being alone to check her makeup, he didn’t think she was waiting for a date.

Gerald went to the bar. He was tall enough to catch the bartender’s eye over the heads there, gesture in a way the bartender luckily interpreted correctly. After a moment, Gerald turned away with his Heineken and change, started across the room, then looked down at the young woman at the table. Hi! he said, sounding surprised.

She looked up at him. Her eyes stayed on his face and showed no recognition. He sat in the chair across from her. You still come here? I thought you didn’t like this place that much.

Excuse me?

I thought that last time you said you didn’t really like this place and almost never came here. Why do people say that, by the way? ‘Excuse me.’ Like you didn’t hear me, when what you really mean is ‘what the hell are you talking about?’

Her posture relaxed a little as she smiled. He had that effect on some women, the right kind of women, putting them at ease. Maybe it was his thinness, his normally earnest expression. A girlfriend had once told him it was the fact that he was blond, which in a man seemed unthreatening.

This young woman said, I’m too nice a person to say get the hell away from me. That’s what ‘excuse me?’ means.

Ah. Raised by a nice family. Went to a good school. Marcy, right?

Her smile had become more knowing. It wasn’t an expression that suited her. She didn’t have that thin, knowing, big-city kind of face. She had good cheekbones, but honest cheeks—not sucked to skeletal—brown eyes, pretty lips. Hands that looked competent but a little unsure as she lifted her white wine, then didn’t drink it. Are you trying to ease my name out of me? It’s Karen.

See? I had it right. Right number of syllables, same consonants. Sort of. Mine’s Gerald. Are you really saying we didn’t talk, three or four months ago, right here? We talked for like half an hour.

Really. Someone kept talking to you for thirty minutes?

He smiled. Then frowned as the music changed. Oh hell, I didn’t know this was that kind of place.

What?

He gestured vaguely at the sound coming from hidden speakers. The kind of place that plays Norah Jones.

You don’t like Norah Jones? Nobody doesn’t like Norah Jones. She’s the safe pick if you have somebody you don’t know well coming over. How can you not like her?

She’s so... breathy. Like she’s always holding back something. Come right out and say it, Norah.

Karen laughed. Gerald tried to remember if he’d ever made a woman laugh so soon. He was finding this easy, and he never had before. Was it because now he didn’t care? Was that the secret of life, not caring? That was a sucky secret.

He said, Let’s not talk about our jobs, okay? That’s what you were going to ask next: What do you do? Let’s talk about something we’re more interested in.

Do I seem like I’m trying to prolong the conversation? Okay, tell me about your best vacation ever.

Yes, she was trying to keep this going. Karen was enjoying this, he could tell. She wasn’t the kind of woman a man would hit on in a crowded bar. At least not this early in the evening. She was pretty, but she didn’t look like a wild night of passion. She looked like a walk in the park. Lunch overlooking the ocean. A church wedding.

For a moment he almost got up and walked away, muttering that he’d made a mistake. Then he glanced at the door and saw he’d been right. Two men had come in, tall guys wearing jackets on this warm night to conceal what they were carrying. Their eyes shot around the room, then locked on him.

Best vacation ever, he said quietly, looking away. The Bahamas.

Naturally. She laughed at him but in a nice way.

Wait. My third year of college instead of going back to school I used the money I’d worked for all summer and flew to the Bahamas by myself. Just needed a break, you know? I got the cheapest hotel room I could find, but I still ran through my money in three days. It was beautiful. I didn’t want to go back. The fourth day I went to three hotels, and the last one hired me as a bellboy. Worked in the kitchen some too. Real scut work. But people were on vacation, they tipped well, a few women were there in all-women groups... I got to know some real islanders. Stayed three months. Felt like an insider, and a few tourist ladies felt like they’d had a brief encounter with a local. It was wonderful.

So your best vacation ever you were working?

He shrugged. It was a vacation from my regular life. What about you?

He shifted so the guys at the door didn’t have as good a look at him. They moved to a table near the door and didn’t look impatient to be served, craning their heads to see the woman he was with.

Karen shook her head. It’s not a good question for me. I shouldn’t have started it. Mine was by the ocean too, but it was pretty lame. There was one time when I was a girl, though, when I was about twelve, my family had a cabin by a lake.

He listened to her talk, watching her face. It went girlish, wistful, happy. He saw that her childhood had been happier than adulthood was turning out for her. Her hand was resting on the table, and he put his out too, but didn’t quite reach for her. Their fingers played on the tabletop, a foot apart, small questing animals sniffing the air.

Definitely a lunch-overlooking-the-sea kind of girl. Gerald needed to get away from her. Listen, Karen, I’d love to stay and talk, but I’ve got a problem. Her eyes narrowed, she sat back in her chair. There are two guys over there across the room—don’t look, but they’d stand right out. They think I owe their boss money. All a misunderstanding, but—

You need some place to go, right? Now Karen crossed her arms.

That had been his plan, yes, try to escort her home, lose the guys in the jackets there. But he’d changed his mind. He would find another way to deal with them.

No. No. I’m just saying I can’t stay and talk any longer.

Karen looked less sure of herself now. Sounding defensive, she said, I didn’t come here alone, you know.

He nodded. That’s your friend over there talking to the bodybuilder at the end of the bar, right? I see her lipstick on the wineglass here.

Gerald wanted to say, Hope I see you here again sometime, or something like that, but it was pointless to tease her. The guys over there were studiously not looking at them now, but not talking to each other either, barely sipping their drinks. They didn’t even glance at each other, not like two friends out together. He had to get away now.

May I borrow your phone for a second?

That surprised her. Still suspicious, she handed over an iPhone. He pressed some keys, and they both heard his phone ring in his pants pocket. Now you’ve got my number.

And you’ve got mine, she said with a little smile, as if she saw through his ruse but didn’t mind.

Bye, Karen.

As he stood up he put his hand next to hers, not quite touching. Then he walked quickly out, moving fast so the two guys in jackets would have to reveal themselves. Gerald didn’t look back. Outside, he ran across the street, into the parking garage on the other side. He stood for a minute looking back, but no one emerged from the bar. Maybe Jacket Guys had backups out here, but the night seemed empty. Gerald ran through the parking garage and out the other side, to where his car was parked on a side street. No one followed. They hadn’t been after him after all.

* * * *

He made sure he wasn’t followed by the time he parked miles away. When he did he sat in the car for several seconds, head down. Then he shook his head and got out. He hurried along the dark street. It would be okay as soon as he got inside the apartment.

It was. When he stepped inside Angela was pulling on a blouse. She turned, looked at him and smiled, and took her time pulling the blouse closed. Even then, she didn’t button it. She sat easily on the arm of a chair, long legs apart. Her black hair hung to her shoulders, framing a long, sensual face that seemed designed to emphasize her full mouth and red lips. At least, that’s where his eyes were drawn.

Gerald felt hollow as he looked at her, still not believing a woman like this had chosen him.

Well? Angela said, and even that one syllable sounded sly and knowing.

He had met here somewhere she never should have been: a grocery store. They had bumped carts, then bumped knees and other body parts about an hour later. Angela wasn’t supposed to be out in public. That was sort of the point of the witness relocation program. But life in captivity wasn’t for her. Angela had bolted before even getting to her destination city or identity. And Gerald had been so ensnared from the first moment he’d seen her that he had dropped his whole life to go with her. Truth to tell, there hadn’t been much to drop.

Philadelphia was the most dangerous place on earth for Angela. So that was where she went. She had to come back to get the money, and she figured no one would be looking for her in the riskiest place there was for her. She’d been wrong about that. She and Gerald had been spotted their second day, before she’d been able to get the money.

She waved him over and pulled him close, her arms around his waist, her open blouse hanging between them. She looked up and raised an eyebrow.

I got rid of them, he answered.

How? You didn’t look like James Bond when I met you.

I let them follow me into a bar, where I started talking to a woman.

Who was she?

Just some girl in a bar. One who looked a little like you.

Smoldering smile. Really?

In dim light. If all you were working from was a description. Remember two days ago we thought maybe they snapped a photo of me while I was getting in the car and you were hanging back in the coffee shop? He realized as he said it that Angela was better than he was, better at taking care of herself. That’s what I was counting on, that these were guys that didn’t know you, they just knew what I looked like and had a description of you and were waiting for me to lead them to you.

And they went for her instead.

He nodded. She stood up, no warning, her body sliding up his, grabbed the back of his neck and kissed him, long and deep, pressing against him her whole length. That quickly, his body remembered every touch of their days of lovemaking. Her kiss had the same effect as the first time, erasing his mind. But this time it came back faster than usual.

Oh, hell, he thought.

Now I can go get the money. You wait here. I’ll be back in a couple hours.

Double hell.

She took the car keys from him, headed for the door buttoning her blouse, then stopped. She looked back, and he could tell she was thinking about kissing him again. Maybe throw in something else for good measure. But Angela smiled complacently, sure of him, and blew him a kiss as she went out.

Fresh hell.

This was the woman he had given up his life for, and now had given up a stranger’s as well. The kind of woman who could hear that someone was being killed in her place and smile and kiss him for it. Then walk out the door, not wanting him to know where she’d hidden the money. She’d only been here waiting because she hadn’t been sure yet he’d thrown their pursuers off her track, worried she might still need a protector. Now she knew she didn’t, and she was leaving.

Gerald looked out the window and saw his car pull away. Its taillights didn’t even flicker at the stop sign at the corner as it picked up speed. He had a sudden feeling she was going the wrong direction, that Angela would circle the block once she was out of sight of this window.

Gerald kept his back turned to the crummy little apartment, a furnished one Angela had gotten the landlord to let them have for a week. He kept looking out the window, seeing no movement in the night. He’d done a good job. He hadn’t been followed. But he understood why. They’d never really been after him.

Still looking out the window, he got out his phone and redialed the last number.

Pick up, pick up, pick up.

They’d be curious who was calling. They might already know they’d made a mistake.

On the fourth ring, just before voice mail picked up, Karen’s voice answered, sounding shaky. Gerald?

Put the man on the phone. The one who grabbed you.

She didn’t argue. A few seconds later a much deeper, rougher, angrier voice said, Yeah?

You realize you’ve got the wrong girl?

That’s what she says, but that’s what they always say.

But your boss knows, right? Hasn’t he seen her yet?

He’s on his way.

Gonna be hell for you when he gets there and sees you grabbed the wrong woman and lost me in the process. I’d rather be me than you right now, that’s how bad it’s going to be.

There was silence on the other end of the line, but not the silence of a dead line.

You wanna fix it? You want to have something else to give him when he gets there? Sure you do. Why am I even asking? Tell him you can still find me. I’ll tell you where I’ll meet you.

A shorter silence, then: Why?

I think Angela’s planning to cut me out of my share of the money.

A dry chuckle. That would be her style, from what I hear.

But I know where she’s going. I’ll give her to you if your boss will promise me a finder’s fee.

How much? The lack of a pause told Gerald what he needed to know. The guy would promise him anything, no hesitation. He heard fear creeping into the man’s voice. The boss must be getting close.

I’ll give you my address. But bring the girl. The one you’ve got there. That’s part of the deal.

Why? She’s unnecessary to any of us.

She’s innocent. She doesn’t have anything to do with any of this.

Yeah, just one of your tragic mistakes.

Gerald swallowed, shifted the phone to his other hand. Look, you bring her or no deal. I’ll give you an intersection, but you won’t even see me unless I see her standing there with her own car, safe and sound. Understand? Here’s the address. He rattled off two street names, then ended the call. No point continuing to negotiate with somebody that low in authority. Once the boss got there, the one Angela had conned out of the two hundred thousand, he’d know he had no choice but to do what Gerald had said.

Gerald paced the small apartment for twenty minutes, then started to think about everything he’d ever done wrong, ending with Angela, the most spectacular mistake ever. He hoped that meant it was the culmination of mistakes, but maybe it was just moving to a new plateau. Wondering about that did him no good, so he went downstairs and hid under a stoop within sight of the intersection.

He should have given them a deadline. Said, Be here in twenty minutes or you’ll never see me. Not given them time to think or plan. But they got there quickly enough. They were motivated. He’d only been under the stairs long enough for the night air to clear his head when two cars pulled up at the curb across the street. The one in back, the light-blue Prius, was undoubtedly Karen’s. Thoughtful girl.

The two guys from the bar got out of it. Obviously they were being punished, made to drive the girly car. One was tall; the other had a shaved head. They looked mad as hell, meaning they were scared too. As they came around the car they bumped shoulders and scowled at each other. Gerald noticed.

After a moment, the car in front, a black Escalade, shifted on its axis, and a big man got out of the back. He made his gray suit look like sausage casing. He glared around searchingly, then reached into the back seat and pulled Karen out. She wasn’t tied and she didn’t look hurt, just very, very scared. She only had one shoe on. Even so, she tried to jerk out of the big guy’s grip.

After another long moment the front door opened and a fourth man stepped out. The boss, obviously. A man wearing charcoal-gray slacks and a long-sleeved yellow shirt, looking as if he was about to pull on his tie and blazer and go to dinner at the club. Styled hair, stylish mustache. Even from across the street Gerald could tell his nails were manicured. He could see how Angela could have gotten to a man like this, appealing to how smart he thought he was.

Well? he said loudly, to the neighborhood at large.

Let the girl go, Gerald said. Just put her in her car and let her drive away. Then you’ll have me and I’ll give you Angela.

The boss looked disdainfully over his shoulder at Karen, who glared back at him. We already know where this one lives, asshole. We know her license plate number. We know where she works. So just come out and talk to me like a man.

Ah. The boss thought Gerald was a man like him, except a lesser version. He thought Gerald’s vanity could be aroused. Okay.

He stepped out from under the stairs, spread his arms. Then walked toward them. The guys from the bar put their hands inside their jackets, but the boss just watched Gerald come, growing a little smile. You? he said dismissively as Gerald stopped in front of him.

They’d never seen each other before. The boss just didn’t recognize Gerald as