Black Cat Weekly #91

By M. Christian, Jacqueline Freimor, Kathleen Marple Kalb and 7 more

Our 91st issue features 3 original tales—mysteries by Jacqueline Freimor (thanks to Acquiring Editor Michael Bracken) and Kathleen Marple Kalb (thanks to Acquiring Editor Barb Goffman), and a science fiction story by M. Christian (thanks to Acquiring Editor Cynthia Ward). Plus a classic SF novel by Harrison, the first of his Stainless Steel Rat series. Plus a classic detective collection from Dick Donovan. Plus a lot more! So much more that you may have trouble finishing it all before the next issue appears.

Mysteries / Suspense / Adventure:

“Everything We Need to Know,” by Jacqueline Freimor [Michael Bracken Presents short story]

“The Case of the Larcenous Leprechaun,” by Hal Charles [Solve-It-Yourself Mystery]

“The Custodian of the Body,” by Kathleen Marple Kalb [Barb Goffman Presents short story]

“The Case of the Forged Letter,” by Harvey J. O’Higgins [short story]

From Clue to Capture, by Dick Donovan [short story collection]

Science Fiction & Fantasy:

“Shine Your Eye,” by M. Christian [Cynthia Ward Presents]

“Parking, Unlimited,” by Noel Loomis [short story]

Sekenre: The Book of the Sorcerer (part 3), by Darrell Schweitzer [4-part serial]

“The Black Alarm,” by George O. Smith [novella]

The Stainless Steel Rat, by Harry Harrison [novel]

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wildside Press
• Release date: May 28, 2023
• ISBN: 9781667661025

Book preview

Table of Contents

COPYRIGHT INFORMATION

THE CAT’S MEOW

TEAM BLACK CAT

EVERYTHING WE NEED TO KNOW, by Jacqueline Freimor

THE CASE OF THE LARCENOUS LEPRECHAUN, by Hal Charles

THE CUSTODIAN OF THE BODY, by Kathleen Marple Kalb

THE CASE OF THE FORGED LETTER by Harvey J. O’Higgins

FROM CLUE TO CAPTURE, by Dick Donovan

I. — THE CHAMBER OF SHADOWS

II. — A MISPLACED LOVE

III. — THE JEWELLED SKULL

IV. — THE WORM IN THE BUD

V. — THE STORY OF THE GREAT CAT’S-EYE

VI. — THE SILVER DAGGER

VII. — THE SECRETS OF THE BLACK BROTHERHOOD

VIII. — CHECKMATED

IX. — THE STORY OF AN INFAMOUS CABAL, AND HOW IT WAS DETECTED

X. — AN UNREHEARSED TRAGEDY

XI. — THE SECRETS OF A HAUNTED HOUSE

XII. — THE CLUE OF THE HANDPRINT

SHINE YOUR EYE, by M. Christian

THE BLACK ALARM, by George O. Smith

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

SEKENRE: THE BOOK OF THE SORCERER (Part 3), by Darrell Schweitzer

SEEKING THE GIFTS OF THE QUEEN OF VENGEANCE

IN THE STREET OF THE WITCHES

THE LANTERN OF THE SUPREME MOMENT

PARKING, UNLIMITED, by Noel Loomis

THE STAINLESS STEEL RAT, by Harry Harrison

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

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

COPYRIGHT INFORMATION

Copyright © 2023 by Wildside Press LLC.

Published by Wildside Press, LLC.

wildsidepress.com | bcmystery.com

*

Everything We Need to Know is copyright © 2023 by Jacqueline Freimor and appears here for the first time.

The Case of the Larcenous Leprechaun is copyright © 2022 by Hal Blythe and Charlie Sweet. Reprinted by permission of the authors.

The Custodian of the Body is copyright © 2023 by Kathleen Marple Kalb and appears here for the first time.

The Case of the Forged Letter, by Harvey J. O’Higgins, originally appeared in The Red Book Magazine, April 1925.

From Clue to Capture, by Dick Donovan, originally appeared in 1893.

Shine Your Eye is copyright © 2023 by M.Christian and appears here for the first time.

Parking, Unlimited, by Noel Loomis, originally appeared in Future, May-June 1950.

Sekenre: The Book of the Sorcerer (part 3) is copyright © 2004 by Darrell Schweitzer. It contains: Seeking the Gifts of the Queen of Vengeance (first appeared in Odyssey #2, 1997. Copyright 1997 by Darrell Schweitzer); In the Street of the Witches (first appeared in Weird Tales #320, Summer 2000. Copyright 2000 by Terminus Publishing Co.); and The Lantern of the Supreme Moment (first appeared in Space & Time #93, Spring 2001. Copyright 2001 by Space & Time.)

The Black Alarm, by George O. Smith, was originally published in Science Fiction Quarterly, Nov. 1951.

The Stainless Steel Rat, by Harry Harrison, originally appeared in this form in 1963. Portions of it appeared, in somewhat different form, in Astounding Science Fiction (August 1957) and Analog Science Fact & Fiction (April 1960).e Fiction, Nov. 1941 to Feb. 1942.

THE CAT’S MEOW

Welcome to Black Cat Weekly.

Our 91st issue features 3 original tales—mysteries by Jacqueline Freimor (thanks to Acquiring Editor Michael Bracken) and Kathleen Marple Kalb (thanks to Acquiring Editor Barb Goffman), and a science fiction story by M. Christian (thanks to Acquiring Editor Cynthia Ward). Plus a classic SF novel by Harrison, the first of his Stainless Steel Rat series. Plus a classic detective collection from Dick Donovan. Plus a lot more! So much more that you may have trouble finishing it all before the next issue appears.

Here’s the complete lineup:

Mysteries / Suspense / Adventure:

Everything We Need to Know, by Jacqueline Freimor [Michael Bracken Presents short story]

The Case of the Larcenous Leprechaun, by Hal Charles [Solve-It-Yourself Mystery]

The Custodian of the Body, by Kathleen Marple Kalb [Barb Goffman Presents short story]

The Case of the Forged Letter, by Harvey J. O’Higgins [short story]

From Clue to Capture, by Dick Donovan [short story collection]

Science Fiction & Fantasy:

Shine Your Eye, by M. Christian [Cynthia Ward Presents]

Parking, Unlimited, by Noel Loomis [short story]

Sekenre: The Book of the Sorcerer (part 3), by Darrell Schweitzer [4-part serial]

The Black Alarm, by George O. Smith [novella]

The Stainless Steel Rat, by Harry Harrison [novel]

Until next time, happy reading!

—John Betancourt

Editor, Black Cat Weekly

TEAM BLACK CAT

EDITOR

John Betancourt

ASSOCIATE EDITORS

Barb Goffman

Michael Bracken

Paul Di Filippo

Darrell Schweitzer

Cynthia M. Ward

PRODUCTION

Sam Hogan

Enid North

Karl Wurf

EVERYTHING WE NEED TO KNOW,

by Jacqueline Freimor

I’m just about to inject myself to trigger Download when I hear Father shout my name. I replace the syringe cap and run from the Scriptorium, passing a Jared and a William, their eyes already clouded as worktime begins. Their pencils race across the paper.

When I enter Father’s office at the other side of the bunker-dugout-silo, I see an adult in a chemsuit standing next to Father. This is the first living adult other than Father and Uncle that I’ve seen in a long time. The adult’s gloved hand removes the respirator and hood, and I see that she is a female. I don’t think she’s a Mother; Father told us that our Mothers died in the Final War. Who is she? Why is she pointing a gun at Father’s head?

Father smiles but radiates rage. Emma Five, he says. How nice of you to finally join us. Go to your place in line.

My stomach lurches as my confusion shifts to fear. Now I see the other-additional-extra Emmas and all the Amelias lined up opposite Father and the adult female. Ever since Emma Four died two months ago, my place lies between Emma Three and Emma Six. They separate so that I can slip between them. I can feel them tremble-shake-twitch beside me.

Which one is she? the female asks, pressing the gun against Father’s head. Her eyes flit-shift-dart between us. Which one is Madeline, you son of a bitch?

Father’s smile doesn’t falter. First things first. How’d you get past the guard?

He’s dead, she says in a flattone. No one is coming to save you. Again she presses the gun into Father’s temple. Now give me back my daughter.

She killed Uncle? At the same time I wonder: She has-owns-possesses a daughter? But Father told us our Mothers are dead.

Father winces. Tell you what—Charlotte, is it? Tell you what, Charlotte. I know she was just a baby when you last saw her, but if you can pick her out of the group, you can take her. He looks at us. Stand still, girls. No fidgeting.

Her face tightens-tautens-tenses. So you remember me, then.

Father sighs. Of course. Look, why don’t you put the pistol down? I’m not armed.

I could do that. Or I could just shoot you.

Ah, Father says, his eyes-oculi-orbs glittering-glinting-gleaming. But then you’ll never find Madeline, will you?

The female—Charlotte—stares at him but he doesn’t move. Neither do we girls. Father requires-demands-mandates obedience at alltimes.

Why are you willing to let her go? Charlotte asks. Suspicion leaks from her squinteyes, but I see that her resistance is weakening-diminishing-decreasing.

Redundancy is built into the system, Father says. We—I—can afford to spare one if it means you’ll go away and leave us alone.

After a moment-second-instant Charlotte lowers the pistol, and my breathing slows as the tension in the room dissipates. With a threatlook at Father, Charlotte turns and walks the length of the line-row-queue, starting with Emma One and ending with Amelia Six. After inspecting-examining-scrutinizing each of us, she turns her head to address Father. None of them look like her.

Now I see that Charlotte resembles Emma Four. Why doesn’t Father tell-inform-notify Charlotte about her? And why did Father tell-inform-notify us that our Mothers had died?

Father shrugs. Why don’t you take a closer look? Say hello to our visitor, girls. Don’t be shy.

Anger hardens-ossifies-petrifies Charlotte’s face as she returns to Emma One.

Hi there, Emma One says. My name is Emma One. Pleased to meet you, Charlotte.

Charlotte stares at her and walks-steps-strides to the next Emma.

Emma Two nods-bobs-dips her head. My name is Emma Two. We’ve never had any visitors, Charlotte. I’m happy to see you.

Charlotte moves on-progresses-advances. Emma Three has stopped trembling-shaking-twitching, and now she says-states-utters, Welcome, Charlotte. I’m Emma Three. Is Madeline your daughter?

Charlotte stops in front of me. My brain forms-shapes-fashions the words, Emma Five here, thank you for visiting-tarrying-stopping over, may we help-assist-aid you? But I must not show-display-reveal my affliction-disorder-disease, so my mouth stutters-stammers-falters, Emma Five here. Thank you for visit…ing. May we help-a…help…you? Sweat springs out-emerges-arises at my hairline.

Charlotte seems-appears-looks puzzled at my discomfiture-uneasiness-stiffness, and over her shoulder I see-view-perceive Father appraise-assess-evaluate me sciencewise, not Fatherwise. This brainstutter has been happening-occurring-taking place mornmore and I’m terrified-frightened-scared that my mind is breaking-cracking-fracturing. Father cannot find out. I cannot disappoint-dishearten-fail him.

I sway-wobble-stagger and fall-drop-descend to the gr—

* * * *

Warm sky breeze grass soft wings flutter cheer-cheer-cheer pretty-pretty-pretty

You are my sunshine my only sunshine you make me happy when bee bee do you see the bzzz bzzz Mister Bee

Flickering tickle cheerily cheer up cheer up cheerily cheer up you’ll never know dear how

Sweet wafting trailing cheer-cheer-cheer pretty-pretty-pretty say ma-ma say ma-ma say ma-

Warm skin milk milk love you please don’t take

* * * *

That’s not Madeline. None of them…where is she.

Listen I…

Did you kill her.

Of course not. But she’s dead. Emma Four.

You said she was alive.

Well…gun to my head didn’t you.

When did she die.

A couple of months…

How do you know it was her.

Birth name Madeline LeBlanc. Born January thirteenth twenty-forty-three. Mother Charlotte LeBla…

Stop. Stop. How did she…

She cut herself…turned septic. I’m sorry.

No. No no no no.

I tried to save her. Antibiotics didn’t work.

Shut up. Liar. You’re a liar.

…nothing to be done. I’m sorry. I’m…

Sorry. Say. It. Again. You. Sick. Fuck.

* * * *

—never happened before, Father says-states-utters. Can you hear me, Emma? Emma Five, wake up.

The smell-odor-scent of ammonia assails-attacks-assaults my nose and my eyelids flutter-flitter-flicker open. I am lying-reclining-supining in my bunk. Father and Charlotte are hovering-overing-oscillating nexto the bed. I don’t understand-capisce-compapprehend what is befalling-betiding-happing but I am filled-crammed-jampacked with terrhorror.

Tell me everything you remember before you passed out, Father commands-orders-peremptorates.

Charlotte was inspecting-examining-scantinizing us girls all squinteyes looking-searching-explobing for her Madeline and when I spoke-enunverbated-palavered my brain stutshattered-stuck-cemented-shipwrecked shut shut shut sh—. I don’t re…call, I say-spit-mutter. Tears gush-spout-spurt-sport-spourt down my cheeks and soak-saturate-macerate-smacerate the pillow.

Leave her alone, Charlotte growls-grizzles-grouches-grouses-grumbles-grr-grr. Can’t you see she’s exhausted?

She takes-grabs-grasps-grips-grisps my hand.

* * * *

Darkening chill wings flap caw caw caw stinging air hurry have to get out of the

Laughing laughing running bouncing rain rain go away come again some

Plap plap plap patter patter patter ooh it’s really coming down but we’re

You’re okay you’re okay

I’ll keep you safe and

* * * *

What happened to…

I don’t know. I think…hemorrhagic stroke.

What.

Brain bleed.

How do you know.

Paralysis…right side…drooling.

Stroke. But she’s ten years old.

Eleven.

How…you did this didn’t you.

It was always a risk.

How…how could…

Why do you care…not Madeline.

You shit. You piece of shit.

Now now.

Tell me what you did to her…them…did to Madeline.

Put that away…don’t need…

Fine. Talk.

Remember you signed…waiver…optogenetics.

What is blah blah blah genetics.

…form of genetic modification…neuromodulation.

You said…increase intelligence.

It’s…same…increase brain’s…to store information.

And that’s what caused…stroke.

Possibly.

Is that…killed Madeline.

No…told you…antibiotic-resistant infection.

Why should I believe…kidnapped children. My child…thirteen months old.

Saved. Saved. And preserved…human legacy.

What the fuck are you…I should shoot…

If you were…would have done it already.

Shut up. She’s…

* * * *

Emma. Emma.

I openunlatch eyes, seeviewper nexto bunk. Father starepeers cold. Charlottemother seemslooks sadmad. Mother? Father dupefooled us. You, I sayutter. Feather, how? I don’t no no no spelecify witter. Plea. Plea. What happenoccurry? Mouth stuttstamm. Brain stuttstamm.

Oh my God. Mother criesweeps. Tears falldescend.

Father nodsbodips head. Just what I thought. Stroke. Aphasia.

Aphasia?

Dysfunction of the language-processing areas of the brain. Pity. He turnsspins to door.

Mother yellsshouts, Where the fuck do you think you’re going? She needs help!

Turnsspins. There’s nothing I can do for her right now. If she lives, some function may return; we’ll have to wait and see. I’ll check on her later. I have more important things to worry about.

Mother screes screes. More important? Are you crazy? What’s more important than saving the life of a child?

Father icyfrees. I told you. I’m preserving the knowledge our species has amassed over three millennia. For future generations—if any. Obviously that supersedes the fate of one child. But you’re welcome to nurse her if that’s how you want to spend your free time.

Mother eyes. Oh. Mouth. Oh.

Now follow me so I can acquaint you with our security system before you start your shift tonight. It’s just the two of us. Since you killed our guard.

* * * *

Water warm plip plip plip plip dripping from the yes yes that’s rubber duckie look he

Splash plash plash five little ducks went out one day over the hill and far

Oh I could just eat you up num num num those cheeks those chunky say ma-ma say ma-

You’re mama’s baby girl you’re my

Mother duck says quack quack quack quack but only one little duck came

* * * *

She’s still alive I see. Have you…all night.

Yes.

Has she awakened.

No…think she’ll get any better.

I don’t know. Again why do…not your daughter.

Someone has to.

Aww…sentimental.

You’re such a…

This is boring. Is your vocabulary always so…

Fuck you.

…my point.

I noticed she…tracks on her arms. Is…addict.

Ha. In a way.

Tell me what you’re…swear to God I’ll…

Calm down. She injects luminopsin. They all do.

What’s…

Protein derived from firefly luciferase.

What is…

Remember what fireflies are…bioluminescent. They emit light.

So.

Luciferase is…enzyme…injected it’s an internal light source.

Internal…but why.

It’s the substance that triggers Download…genemod brains.

Download. Download of what.

Books. Journals. Articles. Everything we know. Knew.

What are…talking…

I knew the day would come when…destroy ourselves and…we had ever built. I couldn’t bear it. Not the loss of…life but of millennia of Western knowledge…cultural achievements. Imagine…start over from scratch…another Dark Age of irrationality, superstition, brutality…no. I could not let that happen. No.

But how did you…

You commissioned me…child with enhanced intelligence. Many others…most popular genetic modification. One of the ways…increase the storage capacity of an embryo’s brain.

Okay but I still don’t see…

…me finish. I’d already chosen the most important…each branch of human knowledge…once I’d increased storage capacity, I merely uploaded optical scans…embryos’ brains.

You mean my embryo’s brain. My Madeline.

Correct. Emma Four.

Madeline goddammit. What’s with the numbering.

I had to take into account…not all survive. I uploaded the same scans…Jareds social science. Amelias mathematics. Tylers natural science. Williams applied science. Emmas humanities music and art.

How can they understand…only kids.

They don’t have to…just transcribe the words onto paper as they appear in their mind’s eye…beauty of it.

Beauty. You…you…why children. Why.

Think about it. How could one preserve…if all our infrastructure went up in flames. Computers are useless without…couldn’t even count on solar power…nuclear winter. But I could…children alive. Children with genemod brains…times more powerful than any computer.

Holy shit.

Yes. It’s rather elegant…say so myself.

How many…kidnap. How many.

Originally thirty. Three…antibiotic-resistant infections. But kidnap…connotations. I prefer rescue.

Do you care about them at all…only about the knowledge…carrying.

Both.

Bullshit.

…can think whatever you…care about them as children and about them as vessels…silly to distinguish…one and the same.

You’re insane. You’re fucking insane.

No. I’m saving the world.

* * * *

Open feet. Nonono. Open eyessssss. Mothermamama eyessssss ssssssoft. Ma.

What did you say?

Ma.

Oh my God! Don’t go back to sleep, Emma. I’m going to get David.

Shshshut down. Shshshut.

Emma?

Open. Ma.

Mothermamama eyessssss cr-cr-cr-cr-cry. Did you hear that, David? She said, ‘Ma’! She thinks I’m her mother.

Don’t be an idiot, Charlotte. She’s probably just making one of the first sounds that all babies make. We’re only guessing it means ‘Mother.’

More open. Ma. Ma.

What’s her real name, David?

Oh, for Christ’s sake.

Mothermamama gu-gu-gun up. Tell me. Or so help me God, I’ll…

Father ha. Ha. You’ll what? Kill me? You wouldn’t survive a week down here without me.

Tell me, you shit!

Fine. It’s Anna. Anna Hollander.

Gu-gu-gun down. Anna. That’s beautiful. Hello, Anna. Hello.

Ma, I ssssssay. Ma.

Shshshut.

* * * *

Boing boing boing bouncy bouncy bounce that’s it baby girl look at those strong

Anna banana plays the piana all she can play is the Star-Spangled

Huh huh huh you’re my big strong girl you’re my big

A my name is Anna and my husband’s name is Alan we come from

Uh-oh oh no did you fall down did you shh shh shh you’re okay you’re fine let mama kiss

* * * *

…here again Charlotte. Seems…a lot of time…bedside.

…trying to help…recover.

Why…looking to adopt…replace your…

Maybe. Is there…wrong with that.

She’s…daughter. Seems unhealthy. Psychologically.

You would know.

Ooh…to the quick.

Besides nothing about…is psychologically healthy. Have you even…the surface.

No. What…

…rubble…soot black rain mountains of ash. Human bodies…animals…parts…no birds no sounds at all just…small groups of survivors…armed.

…good thing my colleagues and I read the tea leaves…collected the children…down here a week before the first bomb hit.

Quote unquote collected…kidnapped.

…six of one…the bottom line…saved them all.

Not all.

How many…do I have to say it…my best.

Yeah yeah. You said colleagues. Who…

…four of my lab assistants…true believers…called them Uncles and Aunts.

…happened to them.

The two women…suicide pact three years in. I killed…because he started to show a prurient interest in…you killed the…by the way…meaning to ask. How did you find us.

My brother…ex-Marine. Bobby. Doomsday prepper. When you stole Madeline…

…rescued.

…stole Madeline…lost my mind…to die. Bobby…me into the bunker he built. We surfaced after…look for her…heard rumors from a pair of survivors…scientists and children…abandoned missile silo.

How did the survivors…

They said…radio transmission right after the first…

Radio transmission. Who…

…called himself The Librarian.

The Librarian. That jackass. We agreed no…keep our location secret.

Well it’s not. Does this…you have a radio.

Had. Battery died years ago.

Have…other visitors.

No. Give me a minute. This…upsetting.

…see that.

Well. What’s done is done. What happened to your brother.

He’s dead.

What…

Those survivors who told…asked us to join… kill you for your food. So we shot them.

We.

Bobby and me. But one of their shots hit…bled out.

Hmm. Seems I owe you a debt of gratitude.

…me a lot more than that.

And now we’re both alone.

…for yourself. I’m never alone…Madeline I have Bobby…people I loved and who loved me. You have no one.

Wrong. I have you.

* * * *

Open eyes. See Mama. Mama.

Honey, Mama say. How did you sleep?

Mmm. Yawn.

Good, Anna. That’s good. Can you say, ‘Hi’? Try to say ‘Hi’.

Hi hi hi hi. Huh.

Try again.

Hhhhuh. Huh.

Mama smile. Don’t worry, baby, we’ll get there, okay?

Okay. Mmm. Okay. Ohhh.

That’s my girl. You can do it. You will. It’ll just take time. And we’ve got plenty of that, right?

Nod. Okay. Mmm. Ohhh. Kuh kuh kuh.

Eyes wide. Did you say ‘okay’? Say it again—‘okay’.

Nod. Ohhh kuh. Kuh kuh kuh kay. Ohhh kay.

Mama cry. I knew it, Anna! You’ll get your words back. Just don’t give up. Never give up.

Nod. Ohhh kay. Oh kay.

Say it again.

Oh kay.

Mama grab hand. Scratch.

Ow.

Mama laugh cry. Sorry, honey. Sorry.

Pat. ’S oh kay.

* * * *

Ooh ooh let’s put your hat on it’s starting to get peek-a-boo peek-a-

Skinnamarink a dink a dink skinnamarink a doo I love

Look at my big girl how big is Anna so big so

I love you in the morning and in the afternoon I love you in the evening and by the light of the

Peek-a-boo peek-a-BOO where’s Anna where’s

* * * *

Is she asleep Charlotte.

I think so. She was tired. She worked hard today.

It’s been six weeks. Are you making progress.

Yes. She still has trouble speaking but she understands me.

Interesting.

Why do you seem so surprised.

Well she sustained considerable brain damage. And you’re not a speech pathologist are you. Or are you. I don’t remember. What did you do before the war.

Insurance claims adjuster.

Ah. I never understood the utility of insurance companies. What did they contribute to the betterment of society. Like the lilies of the field they toiled not neither did they spin. That’s a biblical reference by the way.

I know it is you pompous jerk.

So tell me. In your expert opinion as an insurance claims adjuster do you think Emma Five will regain full use of her faculties.

It’s Anna not Emma Five. And you know I have no idea. Why.

Why do you think. Surely you know enough about my little project by now to hazard a guess.

You want to know whether she’ll ever be able to Download again.

Bingo.

And what if she can’t. What will you do with her then. Why are you staring at me like oh shit. Are you kidding.

You should also know by now that I have very little sense of humor.

But why. Why can’t you leave her alone.

What did I just say about the lilies of the field. The military kindly provided us with abundant rations but they won’t last forever. Everyone here has to earn their keep.

But you told me the other Emmas are carrying the same information. What does it matter whether or not Anna will be able to Download again.

If she can’t she’ll just be another mouth to feed.

So you don’t care about her after all.

Of course I do. But I’m a pragmatist. I can’t let emotion overshadow reason.

You can’t. Fine. Just give her to me then. I’ll take her up to the surface.

Don’t be stupid. How far do you think you’ll get with a partially paralyzed child. Besides. You owe me a guard. An eye for an eye.

You son of a bitch. You can’t keep me here.

I can and I will. The child too. One way or another.

Oh my fucking God. You are.

I know I know. A monster etcetera.

So my only option is to get Anna in shape to Download again. Is that right.

That is correct.

I’ll need some time.

What’s the magic word.

What.

What’s the magic word. You want special dispensation you have to ask me nicely.

Are you shitting me.

Again. No sense of humor.

Fine. Please. Please please pretty please with sugar on top.

Try it without the sarcasm.

You are such a.

I’m walking away.

Okay okay. I’m sorry. Please David. Please. Give me more time to work with Anna.

That’s more like it. Request granted.

How much time.

How much time do you need.

I don’t know.

You’ve got eight more weeks.

Eight. That’s arbitrary.

As I said our resources are limited. Eight weeks is as much as I’m willing to risk on what is likely a losing proposition.

But.

Now you thank me. Say thank you David.

But.

Take it or leave it. Say thank you David.

Thank you David.

Now that wasn’t so hard was it.

* * * *

Door open door close. Anna open eyes. Anna cry.

Oh, shit, Anna, Mama say. Did you hear everything?

Nod. Anna brain broke. Father disappoint.

Mama sit on bed, slide arm under, hug. I’m sorry, honey. Don’t worry—I’ll help you. I’m going to get you better, okay?

Oh kay. How? Anna keep cry because Anna brain broke.

You’re going to be all right. I’m not going to let David hurt you. Mama pat gun on hip.

Anna stop cry. Feel white cold. Father hurt Anna?

Mama wipe eyes, put cloth at nose. Now blow. Hard.

Anna blow. Mama nice. Mama help.

Mama talk talk talk. Anna talk talk talk.

Anna tired.

Anna sleep.

* * * *

Smile smile clap clap clap that’s it baby come to mama come to ma-

Boom did you go boom here hold my

Ring around the Rosie a pocketful of

That’s it that’s it just take another step what a big girl what a big girl you

Ashes ashes we all fall

* * * *

What are you doing here, David? Mama is surprised and afraid. So I also am afraid.

Father smiles. I’ve come to see our patient. Assess how she’s doing.

Mama’s fear smells like metal. But it’s only been four weeks. You said I had eight.

And so you do. This is merely an interim assessment. Father turns his smile on me. How are you feeling, Emma Five? Or should I call you Anna? His eyes scrape me from head to toe.

My throat is dry. Anna.

Father’s voice curls like black smoke. That was the wrong answer. Anna it is, he says. "How are you feeling, Anna?"

My eyes seek Mama’s. She gives a small nod. Okay, I say. Okay, Father.

Raise your right arm, please.

I look at Mama.

Don’t look at her. Look at me. Raise your right arm.

I do it. It trembles. It is weak, the palest of yellows.

Lower it.

I do it.

Now stand.

I do it.

Walk.

I walk to the wall. I walk back.

Remarkable, Father says to Mama. She seems to have recovered a significant degree of motor function. What about her speech?

She can hear you, Mama says. She’s standing right there.

Father’s lips are thin. Of course. Where are my manners? He turns to me. Sit down, please, Em—Anna. Let’s have a little chat.

I sit on the bed. My hands tremble. Not because they are weak but because I am still afraid.

Okay, I say.

How have you been occupying yourself?

I do not look at Mama. I do not want Father to be angry. I exercise. I say words. I sing.

Sing? Father looks surprised. Sing what?

Skinnamarink a dink a dink, skinnamarink a doo, I love you. I make heart hands. Mama showed me.

Father laughs but he is not amused. "So this is the sum total of my hard work, is it? This is what we’re preserving of Western culture? Not Mozart? Not Beethoven? I drop my hands. Father looks at Mama. What about Download? Has she attempted it yet?"

Mama lifts her chin. Not yet. I was waiting for her to get more of her strength back.

Well, don’t leave it too long. You’ve only got four weeks left.

Mama’s eyes flash silver streaks. Then she looks at me and they dissolve. I know.

Why is Mama sad? What happens in four weeks?

Before I can ask, my favorite other Emma and favorite Tyler run in. Anna! they yell. They see Father and stop.

Father’s face squeezes into a fist. What are you doing here? he says.

Emma Two bites her lip. Tyler Three says in a smallvoice, We came to play with Anna.

Play? Father says. He advances toward them. "Play?"

Emma and Tyler shake. They step back.

Father turns to Mama. Why are they here now? It’s the middle of the workday.

Mama looks into his eyes. Her friends always visit around this time—she’s too tired later. They’re good for her.

Father acts like he does not hear Mama. Have you finished your work in the Scriptorium? he asks Emma and Tyler.

They look at their feet. No, they say at the same time.

Then you had best go do that, hadn’t you?

Emma and Tyler look up. They are quaking.

"Go!" Father says. His voice shatters the air. Glass shards rain down.

Emma and Tyler run away.

Father stares at the empty doorway for a long time. Finally he turns back to Mama. Four weeks, he says. Understood?

Fine.

Tell me you understand.

I understand.

I see something new in Mama’s face. I do not know what it is.

* * * *

Whoosh whoosh there you go you’re flying you’re

He floats through the air with the greatest of ease the daring young

Faster you want to go faster baby girl you want

You’re so tall you’re taller than mama you’re taller than

The daring young man on the flying

* * * *

What do you think? Mama says, sitting next to me on the bed. Do you want to try Downloading again?

I tried to trigger Download yesterday and the day before yesterday but it did not work. I do not think it will work today, either. I know I am getting stronger every day, and I have a lot of words now, but I do not think I will ever be able to trigger Download again. That part of my brain used to be bouncy and full of light, and now it is flat and dark, like it is sleeping. Like it is dead.

I look up at Mama’s face. It looks tight and squeaky. I understand she wants me to say Yes, so I do. Okay, Anna, she says, and relief greens her voice. I know that if I cannot Download anymore, Father is going to hurt me. I do not want Father to hurt me, but not just for me. I do not want him to hurt Mama.

Mama hands me the uncapped syringe. Don’t worry about transcribing today. Let’s just see if you can trigger Download at all.

I nod. I find a vein and inject myself. I put the syringe down on the nightstand.

Mama stares at me like she is trying to memorize my face. Anything? she finally says.

No.

Let’s give it another minute.

If Download was going to happen, it would have happened by now, but I wait. After a minute, Mama bites her lip and sighs.

I am sorry, I say.

It’s okay, Anna. She tries to smile but it comes out wobbly. We’ll try again tomorrow.

I will not be able to do it tomorrow, either, but I do not say it. Instead I say, What is Download for, anyway?

Her eyes widen. David never told you?

Father said that we children are more important than all the other people left in the world, because we are preserving the legacy of the human race, but I do not know what that means. Also, he might be lying.

Mama is quiet for a minute. What you Download, she finally says, are all the writings from before the war that David thinks are the highest achievements of Western civilization. He wants you to write them down so they won’t be lost.

Oh. I still do not understand.

Mama cocks her head. Why do you think David might be lying?

This at least is clear. Father lied about our Mothers. He told us our Mothers died in the Final War and that is why he adopted us.

Mama’s fingers, which had been tapping her leg, stop moving. They probably did die.

You were a Mother, and you are still alive.

Mama’s eyes fill with tears and I feel my heart being stuck with pins. Before I can say I am sorry Mama says, Some people survived. Not many. Do you know what happened?

No.

Do you want to know?

No. I am getting tired, and my thoughts are thinning into gray ribbons.

Okay, Mama says. But if you ever have any questions, just ask. I’ll tell you the truth, I promise.

When she is pulling the covers up to my neck, I say, I do have a question.

Yes, honey?

What is a ‘trapeze’?

Mama’s eyebrows scrunch together. ‘Trapeze’? It’s a kind of…swing…high up in the…ceiling that performers used to do tricks to entertain children. Where’d you hear that word?

It was in a song my Mother used to sing.

Really? Mama tucks the blanket around my shoulders. So you remember her?

I do not remember what she looked like. But sometimes I can hear her.

How? Mama says.

In my dreams.

* * * *

No matter how many times I try, I cannot trigger Download. I can walk, I can speak, I can even write, but I cannot do that one thing. Mama tells me I should just keep trying, but as the days pass one by one and nothing happens, she tells me to not be afraid, because she will take care of me; she will always take care of me. Her words are a warm blue sweater.

Father does not visit my room again until the very last day of the four weeks. He barely enters, just stands in the doorway. Without greeting me or Mama he says, Success?

Mama nods.

Father smiles a lazy smile. Really.

Mama’s gaze sharpens into an iron spike. She looks like she would like to smash his teeth in with her gun. Yes. Really.

That’s excellent news, Charlotte. In that case, please bring Anna to my office tomorrow after breakfast. I’m looking forward to seeing her demonstrate the recovery of her Download skills. Now he glances at me. Don’t disappoint me, Anna.

Before I can answer, Mama squeezes my shoulder. Her eyes glitter and there are pink spots on her cheeks like she has a fever. Don’t worry, David. You won’t be disappointed.

Father looks back at Mama. We’ll see, he says and turns away.

I wait for him to leave before whispering, Why did you say that to Father? You know I have not been able to trigger Download even once. He will be angry. He is going to—

Shh, Mama says, smoothing the hair off my forehead and tucking it behind my ears. "Who knows? Maybe you will be able to do it tomorrow. It’s amazing what the brain is capable of, especially under duress."

Duress, I say. Pressure-threats-constraints.

Mama smiles. Why, Anna! You just made a stroke joke.

It must be the duress, I say.

Now Mama laughs. That’s my girl.

I am. I am her girl. I make heart hands.

* * * *

The next morning, I am so nervous I cannot eat my protein bar. Mama cannot eat hers, either. We stand up, leaving them on the table, and she puts her arm around my shoulders. Come on. Let’s get this over with.

Silently we make our way to Father’s office. He is standing in front of his desk, holding an uncapped syringe. Good morning, Charlotte. Anna.

Good morning, we say.

Father hands me the syringe and gestures for both Mama and me to sit in the chairs facing him. He perches on the desk, one leg straight, the other thigh resting along the edge. Well, he says, let’s not drag this out. Go ahead, Anna.

I take a deep breath and plunge the needle into the bend of my elbow. Then I wait; we all wait. Father stares into my eyes. Sweat beads up on my forehead.

The seconds tick by.

Nothing happens.

Another few beats.

Still nothing happens.

Father shakes his head, and my brain starts buzzing. Just as I thought, he says. I knew you couldn’t—what are you doing?

I turn to see Mama pointing her gun at Father. What I should have done weeks ago, she says. She is trembling. The gun is shivering in her grip.

Father holds up his hands. Be reasonable, Charlotte. You know you’re not going to kill me. Let’s talk.

I’m done talking. So are you.

Now it is Father’s turn to sweat, droplets gathering above his lip. "Come on, Charlotte. Do you really think you can run this place by yourself? Keep watch by yourself? You know what’s up there. Come on. Come on."

The gun is wobbling now. A muscle next to Mama’s mouth jumps.

Father keeps talking. His fear smells like a burning match. "You know I’m right. We have to stick together to protect ourselves and the children. Think about the children, Charlotte, think about their children, and their children’s children. We can give them everything, everything they need to succeed, to flourish. To rise from the ashes and rebuild our civilization. If you shoot me, this is where it all ends." He spreads his arms to take in the whole room. He stares at Mama.

What about Anna? Mama finally says, her voice breaking. I can’t let you hurt her.

Father clasps his hands in front of his chest like he’s praying. Of course I won’t hurt Emma. I gasp as the sound of my false name wraps itself around my throat, squeezing, but Father just glances at me and smiles, then turns back to Mama. I’m sorry if you misinterpreted my words, he says. I would nev—

I yank the gun from Mama’s hand.

I pull the trigger.

Father jerks back, and his body slithers to the floor. There is a hole between his wide eyes, brain bits splattered on the wall. I watch the blood slowly pool under Father’s head.

I look up to see Mama blinking at me. He was lying, I say. His voice was full of snakes. I place the gun on the desk.

Mama hesitates, then puts her arm around my shoulder and hugs me. Yes, baby, she says. You’re right. She sounds shocked but also relieved. A light green cloud cocoons us.

I pull away to look into her eyes. Mama? Can I ask you something?

She nods.

Is it true what Father said? That if we stop Downloading we will not survive?

Mama strokes my cheek. No, she says. I think we have everything we need.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jacqueline Freimor’s short stories have appeared in Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine, Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, Vautrin, Black Cat Weekly, Rock and a Hard Place Magazine, and Mystery Magazine, among others, and the anthologies The Best Mystery Stories of the Year (in 2021) and The Best American Mystery and Suspense (in 2022 and 2023). Her novella The Case of the Bogus Cinderellas won the Wolfe Pack’s 2022 Black Orchid Novella Award and appears in the July 2023 issue of Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine.

THE CASE OF THE

LARCENOUS LEPRECHAUN,

by Hal Charles

Detective Erin Murphy always enjoyed visiting her Aunt Mary, especially at this time of the year. Erin’s family had come to America from what they affectionately called the Old country, and while they had adopted their new home with enthusiasm, a part of the Emerald Isle remained in their blood. And no time was this love more apparent than around St. Patrick’s Day.

As Erin entered the kitchen, she was greeted by a wisp of a woman standing by a huge stove that had prepared so many delicious meals for both family and friends. Ah, Erin me girl, Aunt Mary said with the accent that always seemed to grow more pronounced around the holiday, the saints surely aren’t smiling on your aunt today. She has been visited by the wee people.

What?

A tear formed at the corner of Mary’s eye. My emerald ring was taken last night.

And you think it was stolen by a leprechaun?

Years ago when your Uncle Shamus, bless his soul, gave me the ring, he joked that he had caught a wee one and taken the ring in return for setting him free.

Aunt Mary, said Erin, placing her hand on Mary’s shoulder, you can’t really believe—

Don’t be so quick to doubt, said Mary. You’ve heard the stories many times about how jealously the wee ones guard what is theirs.

Old folk tales, said Erin. Now tell me when you noticed the ring missing.

I had some people over last night to watch the St. Patrick’s Day parade on TV. I took off the ring while I was preparing snacks and placed it on the shelf near the sink. I guess I kind of forgot about it during the excitement of the parade, and when I looked for it this morning, it was gone.

Erin’s investigative gene kicked in. And you’re sure it didn’t fall off the shelf or that you didn’t leave it somewhere else?

Mary furrowed her brow. There’s nothing wrong with my memory.

Of course not, said Erin as she examined the shelf and the surrounding area. Who were your guests last night?

Your cousin Kevin stopped by right after work. And you know my friend Sadie Devlin. Then Virgil Stanton from down the street.

The Virgil Stanton? Erin teased, rubbing some grit from the shelf between her fingers.

Faith and begorrah, child, protested Mary, a hint of red rising to her face.

Not quite ready to accept the existence of leprechauns, Erin reasoned that one of the three guests must have entered the kitchen and taken the ring. Assuring her aunt that she would get to the bottom of things, the detective headed out the door.

Erin found Sadie Devlin at her small apartment a couple of blocks from Mary’s. Ms. Devlin, she said as her aunt’s longtime friend opened the door, I understand you were at Aunt Mary’s last night to watch the big parade.

Stepping out onto the stoop, Sadie smiled. I’m afraid I didn’t see much of the parade. My daughter called me with an emergency, and I had to leave even before Mary brought out her famous St. Patrick’s Benedictine sandwiches for snacks.

Remembering that her aunt had taken off the ring to make the snacks, Erin eliminated Sadie as a suspect.

Erin caught up with Virgil Stanton at his hardware store. A successful businessman, Stanton seemed an unlikely suspect. Nonetheless, Erin explained the situation.

Erin, my dear, said Stanton, for several years I’ve been trying to GIVE Mary a ring. I assure you I wouldn’t dream of taking one from her.

A bit embarrassed to have broached the subject, Erin said her goodbyes and made her way to her cousin’s.

Hey, cuz, Kevin said, wiping his hands on a rag. Just got home from work at the lumber yard and need to clean up before dinner.

Looking at her own fingertips that had checked her aunt’s shelf, Erin said, It looks like leprechauns can come in unexpected sizes.

SOLUTION

Seeing the grit from the lumber yard and remembering that Kevin had come to Mary’s right after work, the grit Erin found on the kitchen shelf told her Kevin had taken the ring. Confronted, her cousin confessed to the theft, saying he was desperate to pay several overdue bills. Knowing Kevin to be a basically honest person, Erin decided to return the ring and keep The Case of the Larcenous Leprechaun between her and her cousin.

The Barb Goffman Presents series showcases

the best in modern mystery and crime stories,

personally selected by one of the most acclaimed

short stories authors and editors in the mystery

field, Barb Goffman, for Black Cat Weekly.

THE CUSTODIAN OF THE BODY,

by Kathleen Marple Kalb

An OLD STUFF MYSTERY

Burying my husband was bad enough. Catching a killer in the process was a bit much, even for me, but you can’t un-see stuff, and you can’t un-know it either.

I understood that long before I was a client of Grolier’s Funeral Home, the place that has been seeing off the good people of Unity, Connecticut, for the better part of a century and a half. I’d been there a few times for wakes with Frank, offering condolences to the families of his mentors at the New Haven Herald who’d succumbed to the usual occupational hazards of journalism: tobacco, whiskey, and sausage pizza.

I never thought I’d lose him to the other big occupational hazard, a car crash. And I certainly didn’t think it would happen when our son was in first grade. On his way to a fire scene on a frigid February night, Frank hit a patch of black ice and spun into a tree. Dead at the scene means no hope, but in this case it also meant no suffering, and that was all the comfort I was going to get.

Not much.

* * * *

It’s fair to say I was in shock from the time the phone rang at three a.m. till the unearthly quiet hit after the funeral more than a week later. I knew something terrible had happened when I heard an unfamiliar but undoubtedly cop voice asking to speak with Mrs. Christian Glaser. I almost never used Frank’s last name since we’d both been well into our careers when we married.

Random observations like that helped cloud everything as I sleepwalked through all my usual responsibilities and the incredibly unusual obligations imposed by death. Until it happened to me, I didn’t realize it was possible to be functional and sentient with a whole chunk of you just walled off because that’s the only way you can stay upright. Not that I had some special compartmentalizing skill—it was Frank who had that knack, an old-school newspaper guy, even though he never lived to see fifty.

No, as a former history professor, current head of the Unity Historical Society, and duly recognized expert on old stuff (okay, eighteenth- and nineteenth-century household goods), I’m the living definition of inside. Reporters like Frank are outside, the tough guys who see the world as it is and don’t flinch. Inside people are the civilians, the normies who don’t have to know the truth.

Except on that day at Grolier’s, when I saw something I shouldn’t. The calling hours were the first half of a two-day marathon, a test of both my own endurance and the power of shock as insulation. Thanks to my former mentor, Garrett Kenney, and his husband, Ed, both of whom I loved like family, I had vital support during the viewing—Garrett at my side and Ed at home, caring for my son, Henry. Ed would bring Henry to the actual service, but a little boy didn’t need to attend the visitation.

On our way to Frank’s viewing room, Garrett and I were making lame small talk about a poorly written journal article we’d both read, when we heard a sharp voice. Funeral homes are like libraries, only not fun. Most people try to keep their voices low and smooth, and anything noisy or edgy stands out.

This sure did.

A white-blond woman in a severe black suit was buttonholing the funeral director, Gregg Grolier. But you told me the cremation would happen within three days.

I’m sorry, Mrs. Farrier, Gregg said in a practiced, soothing tone that harmonized perfectly with the cream brocade wallpaper. I warned you that the Presidents’ Day weekend vacation schedule might create a backlog.

But it needs to happen.

And of course it will.

I’m the custodian of the body, she snapped. You said so.

I stared. Couldn’t help it.

When I’d signed the form as custodian of Frank’s body, the phrase had stopped me for a full minute. Garrett had been with me—he and Ed had mobilized into family-crisis mode the second they heard about Frank’s death—and he’d finally had to nudge my hand to finish signing my name.

What a thing to find yourself. Custodian of the body of someone you love. Gregg Grolier nodded at Mrs. Farrier. Of course.

Mrs. Farrier was clearly ready to blow…but just then, she saw us. Her mouth snapped shut like one of the marionettes in the Lonely Goatherd scene in The Sound of Music.

Oh, Dr. Shaw, Professor Kenney. Gregg held out a hand for a shake. Mrs. Farrier and I were just discussing a few things…

Please, don’t let us get in the way, I said, turning to the woman. I’m sorry for your loss.

She started for a moment. Then caught herself. Oh, yes. Thank you.

A pause.

Then she actually looked at me and realized why I had to be here.

Oh, sorry for yours too.

Thank you. I took a breath, managed a nod.

Garrett patted my arm. Come on, Christian, let’s go get settled in the viewing room.

Right.

Claire Farrier, he whispered. Poor Abigail’s granddaughter and a real piece of work. Of course Garrett would know. Unity is a small town, and Garrett knew almost everyone.

Well?

That one sharp word from Claire was all I heard, because we were at the door of our viewing room. Once I walked in there I’d officially be a widow. Frank would really be gone. I took a long breath and crossed the threshold.

The casket was closed. Frank would never have wanted anything else. On top, the Herald with his last front-page story. It was his flag.

We come in one color, gender, and faith, honey, he used to say. Journalist. They don’t build them like him anymore.

But I wasn’t burying a journalist. I was burying my husband and the father of my son. The man whose smile I’d never see again.

Another breath. He wouldn’t break in difficult times. And neither would I. Still, Frank’s death had been real before, but not like this. At first, everything burned into my brain. The first time I stood by the casket. The first time I accepted condolences, from the Herald receptionist, who was crying too hard to speak.

The first stupid question, from one of Frank’s colleagues: How the hell did this even happen?

Ask God and get back to me.

After a while, all the shaking hands, accepting condolences, and making small talk started to run together. Not to mention the weird sensation that everyone was being careful with me, even though they had to know I’m not fragile.

Not even a little.

I would end up with flashes of memory. Of the bubbly intern patting my arm and opening her mouth to say something and breaking off in a squeaky sob. Of Frank’s editor, a crusty old news guy, pulling me into an entirely unexpected bear hug and telling me to make sure Henry knew his dad was the best. And of a tall blond man with concerned brown eyes walking up and clasping my hand.

Just wanted to pay respects, Dr. Shaw. Frank was a real stand-up guy. He looked familiar, but I had no idea who he was.

Um, thank you, I said as he let go.

I’m sorry. He suddenly looked shy and embarrassed. I’m Joe Poli, assistant state’s attorney. Aly’s dad too.

Right. Your daughter was my son’s welcome buddy at Wheatley Elementary. I remembered a tall, feisty sixth grader with the same brown eyes. Henry didn’t even know what a crush was, but he’d had one.

Yes. And your husband covered a couple of my cases and treated me like a human instead of a slumming shyster.

Oh?

A Jimmy Stewart shrug. I used to be a partner at Magen and Renzulli. Moved over to the State’s Attorney’s Office when a drunk driver almost killed my brother and got off on bad lawyering.

There was quite a story there, I was sure. Too bad Frank would never tell it. I see.

Anyhow, Dr. Shaw—Mrs. Glaser?—I just wanted to pay respects and tell you that if there’s anything you need, just let me know.

Thank you.

He held my gaze and handed me a card. I mean like police reports, if you need them for insurance. I can make a phone call and spare you the trouble.

Thank you. I really appreciate it.

Just let me know. He nodded, patted my arm, and turned to go.

After that, the line went on apace. (I can use words like that once in a while because I’ve piled it high and deep. Frank always laughed when I trotted out the old saw about PhDs.) Maybe ten minutes later, I slipped off for a restroom and breathing break.

As I walked down the hall, I stuck my nose in the Farriers’ repose room, just to see what the annoying Claire and her family were like. Most people were gathered around poor Abigail’s mercifully closed casket, with Claire and her husband holding court nearby.

It certainly looked like a party.

Glad she was having fun.

I was sternly reminding myself not to judge when I turned and saw it. A museum-style display case, carefully placed on a draped table, holding something I’d never seen in person. Most people probably hadn’t. It had been priceless a hundred years ago. Now? Who knew?

I only knew what it was because I’d seen pictures of the mismatched pieces they have at the Met in an academic journal. To the best of my knowledge, there were only a couple complete sets in existence. If you didn’t know how precious it was, you’d think it was just an ordinary blue-willow porcelain tea set.

Thanks to those photos from the Met, though, I was able to recognize the faint imperfections in the blue brush strokes, the small variations in the design, and the translucent edges of the cups.

I caught my breath.

Gorgeous thing, isn’t it? a voice asked behind me. I turned to see a friendly middle-aged fellow.

It was Grandma’s mother’s set and her pride and joy, he said. Even in the last year, when she was winding down, with nurses in and out, she had it on display in the living room. Claire didn’t want it here, but it really was Grandma’s most prized possession…and what’s the harm?

I had a pretty good idea of what the harm was now. I took a breath. Absolutely.

And of course Claire will have it to herself after today, so…

Exactly. I patted his arm. I’m sorry for your loss.

Thank you.

I—uh—need to get back to my—my husband’s… I broke off because I felt myself wobbling a little.

Oh, you’re the reporter’s widow, the guy said, his face shifting into the careful mask that was becoming familiar. Be nice to the poor widow. She’s fragile. But was I crazy?

I hurried back to Frank’s viewing room, where Garrett was waiting for me, and so were more well-wishers.

Do me a favor, I said. Go to the Farriers’ room and look at the display case. I’ll explain later.

It’s a weird request, but okay. He patted my arm. I think you’d do better to ask for a scotch.

Better not now. Considering what I just saw, I wanted to keep a clear head.

* * * *

An hour or so later, we were walking across the slushy parking lot, Garrett allowing me to take his arm under the pretense that he was supporting me—not that I was protecting him from a fall.

We were talking about the tea set. And Claire Farrier. When Garrett had returned from the Farriers’ room, we’d agreed not to discuss it until we were alone.

Interesting how Claire was pushing Gregg Grolier about the cremation, he said.

Wasn’t it. I took a breath. I don’t like what I’m thinking.

I don’t either.

Garrett, tell me I’m crazy. That this is some kind of new-widow paranoia.

I don’t think it is. He met my gaze squarely. I looked at that tea set and came to the same conclusion you did. And you’re the expert.

Well, then, I’d better make a phone call. Joe Poli was a little surprised to hear what I had to say, but he didn’t dismiss it.

* * * *

Two days later, Garrett and I were walking into Grolier’s ahead of Frank’s funeral. We arrived early to get ready for the service; Ed and Henry would be coming right on time. We wanted to protect Henry as much as we could.

In the entrance hall, Gregg Grolier was talking to a man and a woman in plain dark suits. Major Crimes, Garrett whispered. He would know. Before Ed and Garrett married, Ed spent twenty years on the state police, retiring as a detective. He still kept in touch with his old buddies, including the very kind detective who’d called me after I spoke with Joe Poli. My connection to Ed had carried at least as much weight as my professional expertise when I explained my concerns.

The woman’s Mary Wingfield, Ed’s trainee his last year. Garrett gave her a quick nod.

Well, doesn’t that make life interesting, I replied.

A sharp rush of air, the sound of the smooth automatic door being roughly pulled open, made us turn to see Claire Farrier marching in, apparently loaded for bear.

Even more interesting, Garrett said. Gregg and the detectives turned too.

Claire Farrier didn’t seem to register Garrett and me, or the detectives. She was on a mission to confront Gregg.

Well? she snapped. When will it be done?

Mrs. Farrier, Gregg began