Robert Alter - 100 Malicious Little Mysteries

“Big Mouth” by Robert Edmond Alter. Copyright © 1968 by Popular Publications, Inc. First published in Argosy Magazine (February 1968). Reprinted by permission of Larry Sternig Literary Agency.

“The Weathered Board” by Alvin S. Fick. Copyright © 1977 by Alvin S. Fick. First published in Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine . Reprinted by permission of the author.

“Lot 721/XY258” by R. L. Stevens (Edward D. Hoch). Copyright © 1972 by R. L. Stevens. First published in Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine . Reprinted by permission of Larry Sternig Literary Agency.

“Thirteen” by Edward D. Hoch (R. L. Stevens). Copyright © 1971 by R. L. Stevens. First published in Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine . Reprinted by permission of Larry Sternig Literary Agency.

“Operative 375” by Gary Brandner. Copyright © 1971 by H.S.D. Publications, Inc. First published in Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine . Reprinted by permission of the author.

“He’ll Kill You” by Richard Deming. Copyright 1950 by Popular Publications, Inc.; © renewed 1978 by Richard Deming. First published in Detective Tales (November 1950). Reprinted by permission of the author.

“Caveat Emptor” by Kay Nolte Smith. Copyright © 1976 by Davis Publications, Inc. First published in Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine . Reprinted by permission of the author.

“The Facsimile Shop” by Bill Pronzini and Jeffrey Wallman. Copyright © 1970 by Bill Pronzini and Jeffrey Wallman. First published in Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine as by “William Jeffrey.” Reprinted by permission of the authors.

“A Corner of the Cellar” by Michael Gilbert. Copyright © 1959 by Michael Gilbert. Reprinted by permission of the author.

“Every Fifth Man” by Edward D. Hoch. Copyright © 1968 by Edward D. Hoch. First published in Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine . Reprinted by permission of Larry Sternig Literary Agency.

“The Pro” by Robert H. Curtis. Copyright © 1978 by Renown Publications, Inc. First published in Mike Shayne Mystery Magazine (May 1978). Reprinted by permission of the author.

“Nobody, That’s Who” by William F. Nolan. Copyright © 1963 by William F. Nolan. Reprinted by permission of the author.

“Pigeon” by William F. Nolan. Copyright © 1957 by William F. Nolan, Reprinted by permission of the author.

“The Prisoner” by Edward Wellen. Copyright © 1973 by Edward Wellen. First published in Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine . Reprinted by permission of the author.

“The Sooey Pill” by Elaine Slater. Copyright © 1969 by Elaine Slater. First published in Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine . Reprinted by permission of the author.

“Backing Up” by Barry N. Malzberg. Copyright © 1979 by Davis Publications, Inc. First published in Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine (November 1978). Reprinted by permission of the author.

“Wide O—” by Elsin Ann Graffam. Copyright © 1968 by Elsin Ann Graffam. First published in Ellery Queen’s Magazine (September 1968). Reprinted by permission of the author.

As a man who constantly battles the upward-edging scale, I am perfectly ready (even delighted) to admit that nothing beats a nice roast duck dinner — or filet mignon — or brook trout — with, of course, all the fixings.

Yet even the best trenchermen among us will admit that there are times during the light-hearted conviviality of a successful cocktail party when nothing beats a carrot stick dipped into something garlicky, the cracker on which a bit of chopped liver or smoked salmon rests, the shrimp dipped in a tangy sauce.

There are, in other words, times for the full dinner and times for the snacks.

And so it is in literature. What is better than a long and exciting mystery novel when we have a day of leisure in which to track down the clues and follow the intricate play of action?

But suppose we need something for just those few minutes before dropping off, or for some minutes of comfort over a sandwich or while waiting for a train? In that case, how about all the excitement, thrills, and surprise of a mystery novel compressed into two thousand words or less? A snack, in other words.

If there’s nothing like a snack at the right time, then here in this book are an even hundred of them, every one of them guaranteed by your humble anthologists. (And pray notice that even the introduction is snack-sized.)

P.S. This anthology was inspired by the fact that I had done three previously on short-short science fiction, and I felt the same could be done for mysteries. It is hard, however, to do anything in the realm of the mystery anthology that the master, Ellery Queen, has not already done. In 1969 he published Mini-Mysteries, a collection of seventy stories, and this anthology follows in the tradition.

The editor looked up in annoyance. There, standing before him, having somehow penetrated to the heart of his cozy editorial sanctum, was — of all things — an author.

Automatically the editor’s eyes flicked over the piles of manuscripts on his desk. Perhaps, he thought, this was some outraged author come to claim a treasured story submitted long ago and still grinding — slowly — through the mill of the gods.

But no, this author had come equipped with a manuscript of his own, which he now unceremoniously thrust into the face of the startled editor.

“Publish this!” he said peremptorily.

“Is that all?” the editor replied, recovering quickly. “May I remind you, my dear sir—”

“Publish this!” the author repeated, this time more menacingly. He was a large lumpy man with an untidy beard, and he looked as though he meant business.

The editor smiled expansively, playing for time. “There are, of course, many ways,” he began, “to get a story published, Mr... Mr...?”

“Gillis,” the author stated. “Lew Gillis.” He still stood with his manuscript thrust at the editor. “I am aware of the many ways to get a story published,” he said flatly. “During the last several years I have had occasion to try them all.”

“Really?” the editor rejoined brightly. He was growing bored.

“Without success,” said Lew Gillis.

“Ah!” Things were becoming clearer. The man was obviously a disappointed author.

“I have, for example,” Lew Gillis said, “submitted my stories with covering letters calling attention to my previous literary successes.” He shrugged. “To no avail.”

“Perhaps,” the editor suggested, “had these previous literary successes not been figments of your—”

“I have ignominiously scraped acquaintance with published authors, poor wretches of little or no talent, for the sole purpose of using their barely recognizable names to get past secretaries and into the presence of editors,” Gillis continued.

“But this device, too,” the editor completed the thought, “availed you nothing.” He smiled wearily. “And not surprising either, when you consider that editors abhor—”

“Finally,” the author went on, “I hit upon a scheme which, during the last year, has brought me considerable success.”

In spite of himself the editor was interested. “A scheme?” he repeated.

“An extremely simple scheme,” said the author. “Nowadays when I have a story to sell I merely choose an editor, find a way to elude his secretary, hold my manuscript out to him, as I am doing with you now, and speak six words.”

“And those six words are...?” The editor felt some resentment at having to supply all the straight lines.