EQMM, May 2011 Read online

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  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  Cover by Tom Roberts

  CONTENTS

  Special Feature: EQMM'S EARLIER REVIEWERS by Steve Steinbock

  Fiction: DOLLY'S TRASH AND TREASURES by Lawrence Block

  Reviews: BLOG BYTES by Bill Crider

  Reviews: THE JURY BOX by Jon L. Breen

  Special Feature: 2010 EQMM READERS AWARD

  Fiction: TURNING LEO by Clark Howard

  Fiction: SOMEONE LIKE YOU by Meenakshi Gigi Durham

  Fiction: THIS THING OF DARKNESS by Peter Tremayne

  Fiction: A DROWNING AT SNOW'S CUT by Art Taylor

  Fiction: JIM LIMEY'S CONFESSION by Scott Loring Sanders

  Department of First Stories: A STUDY IN DETAIL by Michael Guillebeau

  Fiction: STARDUST by Phil Lovesey

  Fiction: ENGLISH by Leigh Lundin

  Fiction: NORMAL by Donna Andrews

  Passport to Crime: THE WAIT by Sunny Singh

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  Janet Hutchings: Editor

  Emily Giglierano: Assistant Editor

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  Victoria Green: Senior Art Director

  Cindy Tiberi: Production Artist

  Laura Tulley: Senior Production Manager

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  Abigail Browning: Manager, Subsidiary Rights & Marketing

  Bruce W. Sherbow: Senior Vice President, Sales & Marketing

  Sandy Marlowe: Circulation Services

  Peter Kanter: Publisher

  Ellery Queen: Editor-in-Chief, 1941-1982

  Eleanor Sullivan: Editor-in-Chief, 1982-1991

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  ABOUT JON L. BREEN AND BOOK REVIEWS IN EQMM

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  Shakespeare's “The first thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers” has inspired several mystery novels playing on the comedic suggestion, but many writers, in moments of private fantasy, probably also have a book critic or two they'd like to put in a killer's sights. It takes courage to be a book reviewer, not, of course, because anyone expects the murderous impulses aroused by a stinging review to be put into action, but because the critic often knows the writers whose books he or she must give less than favorable comment. Friendships may be at stake, and if the reviewer is also a fiction writer, giving an unfavorable review to a book by a bestselling author could jeopardize any chance of helpful endorsements from that author later.

  Many publications give their reviewers the cover of anonymity. One of EQMM's proudest traditions is the signed review column. Since 1970 that column has gone out under the heading “The Jury Box.” For more than thirty years (with only a short break in the 1980s), Jon L. Breen, a novelist, short-story writer, librarian, anthologist, and college English teacher, has written The Jury Box for EQMM with integrity, insight, and style. Covering a dozen books each month for three decades is a remarkable achievement in itself, but that's the least of his contributions to the field. The concision with which impressions and conclusions are conveyed in his reviews is a marvel, and he writes, always, with a clear purpose: to serve the reading public. Without ever stooping to the sort of clever barb that has no purpose other than to boost a reviewer's ego at the expense of an author, he is unfailingly honest in his assessments, as if he has always in mind that readers will be spending time and money based on his advice. The combination of knowledge, keen analysis, and—not least—love of the mystery that Jon Breen brings not only to his EQMM reviews but to his books of reviews and criticism (four of them, to date; two of them Edgar Allan Poe Award winners in the biographical/critical category) earned him the Ellen Nehr Award from the American Crime Writers League in 2000.

  EQMM's longest-serving reviewer, Jon has chosen the magazine's 70th anniversary year to bring his service in The Jury Box, as a regular juror, to an end. This issue carries his last regular column, but he will return twice each year hereafter with his verdicts on reprinted classics and short story collections. Readers can also expect to see his fiction in the magazine in years to come. He is already the author of more than a hundred published short stories, and his eight novels include one, Listen for the Click (British title Vicar's Roses), that was nominated for the John Creasey Award for best first novel of 1984 and another, Touch of the Past, that received a nomination for the best novel dagger of the British Crime Writers Association in 1989.

  Now that he's only an alternate to The Jury Box, we expect that some of Jon's own books will come up for review in EQMM's pages. He tells us he plans not only to write more fiction but to edit more anthologies. His favorite collection to date, American Murders, is one he co-edited with his wife of forty years, Rita Breen.

  A deeply felt thanks to Jon, from the staff at EQMM, for his unsurpassed work. May he and Rita find many splendid ways to enjoy the freedom his release from Jury duty should bring.

  Next month, meet The Jury Box's new foreman, Steve Steinbock!

  Special Feature: EQMM'S EARLIER REVIEWERS by Steve Steinbock

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  HOWARD HAYCRAFT

  By the time Howard Haycraft's “Speaking of Crime” column began appearing in EQMM, with the magazine's February 1946 issue, his name was already synonymous with detective fiction scholarship. After editing several collections of detective stories for boys, Haycraft composed his 1941 masterwork, Murder for Pleasure, an in-depth history and analysis of the mystery story, which Otto Penzler once called “the most important single work of mystery-fiction scholarship ever produced.” The book included a list of 108 titles that Haycraft believed comprised the definitive mystery library. That list grew into a long collaboration with EQMM founding editor Frederic Dannay and resulted in a final list referred to as the “Haycraft-Queen Cornerstones,” which today remains the standard for mystery collectors. In 1946, Haycraft edited The Art of the Mystery Story. His “Speaking of Crime” column ran in EQMM every other month for ten issues between February 1946 and October 1948.

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  ANTHONY BOUCHER

  Before taking over Haycraft's “Speaking of Crime” column for the February 1949 issue, Anthony Boucher (the pen name of William Anthony Parker White) served as mystery reviewer for the San Francisco Chronicle and had written seven mystery novels and over one hundred episodes of The Adventures of Ellery Queen radio program. Boucher's “Speaking of Crime” column appeared in eight issues in 1949 and 1950. After a hiatus, he returned to the pages of EQMM in November, 1957, with a one-page review column called “Best Mysteries of the Month.” His stated goal was “to select each month a few books with more to offer than the one-a-day routine.” In his first column he reviewed five novels, giving each a star rating, a tradition that Jon Breen would later carry on. The column ran until February 1968, just a few months before his death. In 1970, mystery fans gathered in Santa Monica, California for the first World Mystery Convention, named “Bouchercon” in honor of Anthony Boucher.

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  JOHN DICKSON CARR

  Already a legend in the mystery field as the “master of the locked room,” and author of nearly seventy novels (under his own name and as Carter Dickson), John Dickson Carr took over the “Best Mysteries of the Month” column with the January 1969 issue. Carr introduced himself in that first column as an “old devotee of blood and thunder.” In May 1970, Carr's column was expanded from one to three pages and was renamed “The Jury Box.” During his first few years, Carr typically reviewed four titles in each issue (usually three new titles, and one classic reprint), but in his blustery, jovial style, Carr had little problem filling three pages with entertaining exposition. As years went by, Carr varied the number of reviews, often looking at a dozen titles—in other words, a jury box of books. Carr continued to be foreman of the Jury Box through the October 1976 issue, shortly before his death.

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  ALLEN J. HUBIN

  During a five-year hiatus that gave him a chance to focus on his own writing, Jon L. Breen's seat in the Jury Box (which followed on Carr's) was filled by mystery reviewer, collector, historian, and fan Allen J. Hubin. This was the second time Hubin had filled a position previously held by Anthony Boucher: In 1968 he replaced Boucher as mystery reviewer for the New York Times. Hubin was also the founder and first editor of The Armchair Detective, the preeminent mystery fan magazine, and editor of several annual Best Detective Stories anthologies. Hubin is perhaps best known for his mammoth reference book, The Bibliography of Crime Fiction 1749-1975, a periodically updated catalog of every mystery written in English, referred to among collectors and historians simply as “The Hubin.” Al Hubin began his tenure in “The Jury Box” in the December 1983 issue and continued through most of 1988.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Fiction: DOLLY'S TRASH AND TREASURES by Lawrence Block

  Little, Brown and Company will release a new novel in Lawrence Block's Matthew Scudder series, ADrop of the Hard Stuff, on May 12, shortly after this issue mails to subscribers. Scudder is one of the most iconic characters in American crime fiction and it's been six years since he's appeared in a novel. The author says he will be “spending publication day on national television.” We'll be looking out for that, but meanwhile, here is a non-series story by the MWA Grand Master.

  "Mrs. Saugerties?"

  A nod.

  "That would be Dorothy Saugerties? And did I pronounce that correctly? Like the Hudson River town?"

  Another nod.

  "Well, Mrs. Saugerties, I'm Baird Lewis, and this is my colleague, Rita Raschman. We're with Child Protective Services."

  No response.

  "One of your neighbors called to express concern over the living conditions here, and how they might impact upon your children."

  "Haven't got any."

  "I beg your pardon? According to our records, you have four children, three girls and a boy, and—"

  "Haven't got neighbors. This here's mine, from the road back to the creek. Then there's state land on that side. Nearest neighbors would be a quarter-mile from here."

  "Well, one of them—"

  "Might be more like a half-mile. If it matters."

  "Baird, may I? Mrs. Saugerties, you do have four children, don't you?"

  "Did."

  "They're not living here now?"

  "Not anymore. Tricia, Calder, Maxine, and Little Debbie. Moved away and left me here."

  "When was this, Mrs. Saugerties?"

  "Hard for me to keep track of time."

  "I see."

  "He moved out, see, and—"

  "That would be your son, Calder?"

  "My husband. It got so he couldn't take it, you know, so he moved out."

  "Does he live nearby?"

  "Don't know where he took himself off to. But he left, and then the children."

  "They just left?"

  "Here one day and gone the next."

  "But how could—"

  "Rita, if I may? Mrs. Saugerties, let me make sure I have the names right. Patricia, Calder, Maxine, and Deborah, is that right?"

  "Tricia."

  "That's her actual name? Good, Tricia."

  "And not Deborah. Little Debbie."

  "Debbie."

  "Little Debbie. Like the cakes."

  "Like—?"

  "The cakes."

  "It's a brand of cupcake, Baird. You can find them next to the Twinkies."

  "My life is ever the richer for knowing that, Rita. They just left, Mrs. Saugerties?"

  "Might be they went with their father."

  "I was wondering if that might be a possibility."

  "Because, see, they just hated it here, same as he did. On account of there's no room in the house anymore. On account of my stuff."

  "Your stuff. I can't help noticing there's a pile of trash on either side of the porch glider. Is that the sort of stuff you mean?"

  "Ain't trash. ‘Smy stuff."

  "I see."

  "I like to have things, and then I like to keep ‘em. Other people, they don't care for it."

  "Like your husband."

  "And the children. Their rooms filled up, along with everything else, and there was no place for them to play. But you know, there's the whole yard. It's our property clear back to the creek."

  "Yes. Do you suppose I could use your bathroom, Mrs. Saugerties?"

  "Don't work."

  "I see. Well, let me just go in and get myself a glass of water."

  "That don't work, either. Oh, I guess he didn't hear me. He wasn't really supposed to go into the house."

  "I'm sure Baird won't disturb anything, Mrs. Saugerties."

  "It's just such a mess, you know. No room for a body to get around. And the animals mess in the house. I don't know why I can't keep up with their messes."

  "Animals?"

  "Well, dogs and cats."

  "How many do you have?"

  "I don't know. There's different ones, and they come and they go."

  "Like the children."

  "Except all they did was go. I wish they'd come back, but I don't think they will."

  "Well—"

  "And there was a raccoon. Besides the dogs and cats, I mean. But I ain't seen him in I don't know how long. They don't belong in a house anyhow, you know. Raccoons, I mean. They'll make a godawful mess."

  "I'm sure that's true. Baird, are you all right?"

  "Yes, of course."

  "You look like you saw a raccoon."

  "I look like what?"

  "I just said—"

  "Never mind. I have never seen the like."

  "I can imagine."

  "No, Rita, I don't think you can. How anyone can live like this is quite beyond me. No children, so we can wash our hands of it, and I'll tell you, right now mine could use washing. We'll refer it, of course. And I don't envy the poor bastards at APS who draw this one. Mrs. Saugerties? I think we'll be going now. Uh, some other people may be in touch. They'll be able to give you a good deal of assistance."

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  Help? Don't want help.

  Got all I need, right here where I am. Got my stuff right where I can put my hands on it. A whole house full of my things, and the cellar and attic, too.

  Oh, I know this is no way to live. I'm not crazy. I'm not stupid, either. I don't talk much. Better if you don't. What's it they say? A fish'd never get hisself caught if he just kept his mouth shut.

  That's unless they come with a net.

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  "Mrs. Saugerties? How do you do, ma'am? My name is Thelma Weider and this is my associate, John Ruddy. And may I call you Dorothy?"

  "I guess."

  "Dorothy, John and I are with Adult Protective Services of Lantenango County, and we're here to provide you with some assistance, and—"

  "Don't need it."

  "Well, I believe you'll find—"

  "Who're them two?"

  "The tall gentleman
is Mark, and his partner is Clayton. They're with the sheriff's office, and they've come along on the chance that they might be needed, but I'm sure we'll be able to work this out without bringing them into it. Now before we go inside—"

  "Not going inside."

  "Ah. Dorothy, I believe I see bedding and a pillow on the porch glider. Is that where you've been sleeping?"

  "Nice sleeping in the fresh air."

  "I'm sure it was comfortable this summer, but it's autumn now, isn't it? The trees are starting to drop their leaves. The nights are getting cold."

  "Ain't too bad."

  "And winter's coming, and then it will be really cold."

  "Got lots of blankets."

  "But you've got a big house. What do you have, four or five bedrooms?"

  "About."

  "And you're all by yourself here."

  "With my stuff."

  "Yes, I've heard about your stuff. Rooms filled almost to the ceiling, isn't that what Baird and Rita told us?"

  "What Thelma's getting at, Dorothy, is that we could help you be a lot more comfortable."

  "Dolly."

  "I'm sorry, do you want a doll? I don't—"

  "What to call me. Dolly. Not Dorothy, nobody calls me Dorothy."

  "Ah, I see. Dolly, why don't we go inside and have a look around your house? Maybe you can point out some of your most treasured things for us."

  "No."

  "I'm afraid we have a warrant, Dolly, that empowers us to enter and search the premises, and Mark and Clayton are here to guarantee your compliance. So I'm going in. Would you like to come with me, or would you prefer to stay out here with Thelma?"

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  It's embarrassing, having people go through your house and look at your things. Knowing they're judging you, feeling the thoughts they're thinking as sure as if they were saying them out loud.

  What a pig, what a slob, how could a woman let herself go this way, how could she let her house get away from her like this? Blah blah blah. All this junk, all this rubbish, why would anyone want to live with these broken dolls and old newspapers? And look at the plates, the food still encrusted on them, rotting there. Blah blah blah. And the smell, who could stay in a house with such a smell in every room? Blah blah blah.