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E-BookEPUB0 - No protectionE-Book
564 Seiten
Englisch
Black Cat Weeklyerschienen am04.11.2023
This issue features original mysteries by O'Neil De Noux and Shannon Taft (thanks to our Acquiring Editors, Michael Bracken and Barb Goffman), a Gil Brewer crime classic, and another entry in the Biff Brewer mystery series by Andy Adams. And what issue would be complete without a solve-it-yourself puzzler from Hal Charles?


On the more fantastic side of things, you might say things have gone to the birds...we have a pair of classic avian-themed stories by Cordwainer Smith and Richard McKenna. But we also have a terrific Norman Spinrad short, about the effects of virtual entertainment on actors, and Darrell Schweitzer contributes a poignant tale of a man whose father has delusional battles against the dreaded Zeppelin Gang. Or are they delusions?


And a few issues ago, I promised more of the humorous Toffee tales from Charles F. Myers. Well, in my research through the pulps, I only looked at titles...imagine my surprise when The Shades of Toffee turned out to be a novel, instead of a short story! Here it is. More Toffee shorts (I assume they're short) will follow in future issues.


Here's the complete lineup:


Mysteries / Suspense / Adventure:


'The James Mason Effect,' by O'Neil De Noux [Michael Bracken Presents short story]
'The Clue in the Conservatory,' Hal Charles [Solve-It-Yourself Mystery]
'A Tail of Justice,' by Shannon Taft [Barb Goffman Presents short story]
'The Gesture,' by Gil Brewer [classic short story]
The Mystery of the Caribbean Pearls, by Andy Adams [novel, Biff Brewer series]


Science Fiction & Fantasy:


'A Man of the Theater,' by Norman Spinrad [short story]
'Fighting the Zeppelin Gang,' by Darrell Schweitzer [short story]
'The Night of Hoggy Darn,' by Richard McKenna [classic short story]
'From Gustible's Planet,' by Cordwainer Smith [classic short story]
The Shades of Toffee, by Charles F. Myers [novel, Toffee series]mehr

Produkt

KlappentextThis issue features original mysteries by O'Neil De Noux and Shannon Taft (thanks to our Acquiring Editors, Michael Bracken and Barb Goffman), a Gil Brewer crime classic, and another entry in the Biff Brewer mystery series by Andy Adams. And what issue would be complete without a solve-it-yourself puzzler from Hal Charles?


On the more fantastic side of things, you might say things have gone to the birds...we have a pair of classic avian-themed stories by Cordwainer Smith and Richard McKenna. But we also have a terrific Norman Spinrad short, about the effects of virtual entertainment on actors, and Darrell Schweitzer contributes a poignant tale of a man whose father has delusional battles against the dreaded Zeppelin Gang. Or are they delusions?


And a few issues ago, I promised more of the humorous Toffee tales from Charles F. Myers. Well, in my research through the pulps, I only looked at titles...imagine my surprise when The Shades of Toffee turned out to be a novel, instead of a short story! Here it is. More Toffee shorts (I assume they're short) will follow in future issues.


Here's the complete lineup:


Mysteries / Suspense / Adventure:


'The James Mason Effect,' by O'Neil De Noux [Michael Bracken Presents short story]
'The Clue in the Conservatory,' Hal Charles [Solve-It-Yourself Mystery]
'A Tail of Justice,' by Shannon Taft [Barb Goffman Presents short story]
'The Gesture,' by Gil Brewer [classic short story]
The Mystery of the Caribbean Pearls, by Andy Adams [novel, Biff Brewer series]


Science Fiction & Fantasy:


'A Man of the Theater,' by Norman Spinrad [short story]
'Fighting the Zeppelin Gang,' by Darrell Schweitzer [short story]
'The Night of Hoggy Darn,' by Richard McKenna [classic short story]
'From Gustible's Planet,' by Cordwainer Smith [classic short story]
The Shades of Toffee, by Charles F. Myers [novel, Toffee series]
Details
Weitere ISBN/GTIN9781667682747
ProduktartE-Book
EinbandartE-Book
FormatEPUB
Format Hinweis0 - No protection
FormatFormat mit automatischem Seitenumbruch (reflowable)
Erscheinungsjahr2023
Erscheinungsdatum04.11.2023
Seiten564 Seiten
SpracheEnglisch
Artikel-Nr.12748641
Rubriken
Genre9201

Inhalt/Kritik

Leseprobe




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.
A TAIL OF JUSTICE,
by Shannon Taft

Humans are just too fragile.

This one hadn t even had the decency to refresh my water bowl before keeling over in front of the living room TV, her corpse hogging the tan sofa that so perfectly matched my fur.

Losing Sophie was a pity. I d picked her because she was barely thirty and should ve been around for decades. That, and she d given wonderful chin scratches, although she d always been a bit stingy with the laser pointerâ¦and the catnip, now that I think about it. She d also died leaving the streaming service on auto-play, so I was stuck listening to episode after episode of people with British accents having sex and murdering each other. I d lived in England a few centuries earlier, and while the sex part was true, murders had not been as common as the show implied.

The TV was annoying-bursting into loud music at the start of each episode to wake me up-but my empty water bowl was the bigger problem.

I turned my back on Sophie and trotted off to the kitchen section of what she d called an open floor plan, which mostly consisted of the living room and kitchen together at the back of the house. I put my weight on my hind legs for a leap onto the counter, and after three failed attempts-intentional, of course-I nailed a perfect landing. With no one around to shoo me off, I reconnoitered the sink, the marbled quartz counter cool beneath my paws.

Three providers ago, I had a human who was a slob and left dishes in the sink. Sophie was regrettably neater. Dishes would ve meant food and likely some pooled water. Faced with a bone-dry sink, I tried to nudge the faucet s handle up, but it was too far from the edge. Overstretched, I fell into the basin, with no water to show for my efforts. I tried again, with the same result.

Accepting that the kitchen sink was not a viable option, I went back through the living room, into the bedroom, and finally to the master bathroom.

I do not drink from toilet bowls. That is-quite literally-for the dogs. But the lid was closed, which made it quite helpful in my leap to the countertop by the sink.

I knew that the faucet handle on the left side of the sink was for hot water, so I proceeded over to the right, where several objects were in my way. The pill bottle, toothbrush, and soap pump were easy enough to push off the counter, but the water flosser required more effort. I gave it a hard shove, and it fell to the floor with a loud clatter accompanied by a softer splash. I considered leaping down to drink what had spilled out, but wanted something fresher.

Satisfied with my now-open field of operations, I curved around to get into position over the cold-water knob, bit down on it until my teeth ached, then turned my head. The handle moved, triggering a thin stream from the faucet.

I scootched over for better access and flicked my tongue at the flowing water. With enough licks, I managed to drink my fill.

I left the sink running and looked down at the floor to prepare for my leap. The pill bottle s lid had broken when it landed on the linoleum floor, and capsules were scattered everywhere. Several were dissolving in the liquid from the water flosser, but one pill had rolled behind the toilet, and two had made it out of the room, landing under the bedroom dresser.

Oh well. My human was beyond needing medicine anymore.

I took a soaring leap to avoid the mess on the bathroom floor, then padded over to the bed to take up residence on Sophie s pillow. Sadly, the space was much colder that night without my human to warm it for me.

The next morning, I woke with a wide yawn, got to my paws, arched my back to stretch, and hopped down to the carpeted floor. I like it when my humans have carpeting. It offers the best paw traction.

I went to the living room and found that the wretched TV show had been replaced by something that sounded rather similar, just with less orchestral music. I eyed Sophie and pondered my meal choices. I couldn t open the refrigerator, and she d learned long ago to put my food in the high cabinets over the counter. The obvious answer lay before me, but people aren t as tasty as Salmon Surprise.

Sophie had subjected me to various indignities in our time together. Naming me Fluffy might ve been the worst, since I was, in fact, the opposite. But she deserved better than to become cat food.

I nobly decided I d go hungry, no matter how long it took to be rescued. A few millennia of existence had taught me that hunger wouldn t kill me. I was about to climb up my cat condo to yell at the chirping birds outside when I heard the sound of the front door unlocking.

Opposable thumbs were only seconds away! I scampered to the door in time to see it open.

Joe walked in carrying a black suitcase. He was the guy Sophie had planned to marry, even though she d complained about how much time he spent away from her, traveling for work. Personally, I d been happy enough to see him gone, as I d told him several times by hacking wet furballs inside his empty shoes when he d stayed too long.

Now, Joe was my ticket to Salmon Surprise. I began a melodious song, listing my complaints.

Joe smiled at me. He d never smiled at me before-not unless Sophie was watching him.

My stomach suddenly hurt, and I didn t think it was from hunger. I stopped meowing at Joe and began to study the situation.

He shoved me out of the way with his loafer-shod foot, shut the door behind him, then strode past the dining room to leave his suitcase by the stairs to the basement. He headed toward the living room, staying out of the kitchen section of the open space. I followed, but took the route by the fridge to give him a wide berth.

When Joe got close enough to see Sophie, he halted. I kept moving and was well into the living room before I turned around to see his expression.

His smile had widened to a smug grin.

I knew that grin. I d seen it on countless faces over my five millennia in the world. Imhotep, the Egyptian priest who d killed all my littermates, had looked like that when he d finally gotten the ceremony right and I d emerged from the tub of human blood perfectly alive.

Imhotep had treated me like a god after that, yet I d never forgiven him the price of making me immortal. It had taken me years to get the courage to kill him, but I did avenge my fellow cats in the end.

Joe strode over to the entertainment center, picked up the remote control that Sophie had left there, and turned off the TV. I held back a meow of relief at the silence that descended.

He tossed the remote onto the sofa before strolling to the kitchen, humming as he went. He pulled out a beer can and worked the tab. The can gave a light hiss, and Joe took a deep gulp before returning to the living room, drink in hand.

I stayed out of his way, still watching warily.

Joe ambled over to the corpse and took another swig of beer before saying, Thanks for putting me in your will. I d been waiting for enough time to pass after you signed the life insurance papers, but the will was a nice bonus. He shook his head as if to scold her. You were such an idiot.

I eyed my dead human with disappointment at her mistake. This was the problem with picking females to serve me. Sophie was not the first of them to die at the hands of a man they d trusted. But women tended to have higher body temperatures for their chests and stomachs, which meant a better place for me to sleep, so they often seemed like a good choice.

I d need to find a smarter one next time.

Joe put the beer down on the coffee table and told Sophie, Time to get rid of the evidence.

He headed off to the bathroom.

I followed at a distance. The sink still had a trickle of water running, while the floor had dried overnight. It looked like some of the gelatin-coated pills were now stuck to the linoleum.

Joe inhaled sharply before he turned to me. Damned cat! I oughta feed some of these to you!

I took several steps back, keeping him in sight. With effort, I refrained from hissing at him. Not only because he might kick me, but because I d once lived with a nice lady in Italy named Lucrezia Borgia. Her father had told her to never let anyone know you were their enemy. That way, you could strike out and kill them before they could kill you. Lucrezia s dad had been an ass, but the advice was still good.

Joe shut off the sink, then turned his attention back to the floor and muttered, If the cat dies, the cops will know the pills were poisoned.

I scolded myself for not realizing sooner what had happened to Sophie, who d been far too young to die.

Joe bent down, opened the cabinet beneath the sink, and pulled out the yellow gloves that Sophie had used when cleaning gross stuff. He lifted the toilet lid before he got down on his knees and began to peel the capsules from the shiny white linoleum.

His back was to the door, which meant he was not facing me or the bedroom. I went to the dresser, turned around to confirm that Joe was still ignoring me, then snuck a paw in the slim gap between the bottom edge and the carpet. It took a few tries, but I eventually extracted a pill that had landed there.

I moved my head over it and bit...
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