Stanley Abbott - Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 30, No. 13, Mid-December, 1985

In this issue... G. S. Hargrave is back with a new Sheriff Bigelow story, “Sheriff Bigelow and the Nickel-Plated Pocket Watch.” Some of you may remember the first tale about the denizens of Constantine County, “Sheriff Bigelow and the Bare Cold Facts,” published in AHMM in July 1984. In that story, the estimable sheriff and Deputy Walts found themselves faced with a body in a bathtub; this time around, they get involved in a most mysterious case of graveyard vandalism.

Back with us as well are Al and Mary Kuhfeld, with their police partners, Nygaard and Hefner, in “Scales of Justice.” (See “An Ill Wind,” April 1984, and “Allergic to Death,” September 1984.) Nygaard takes center stage in this story of an injustice unexpectedly — and entertainingly — redressed.

And then there’s Stanley Abbott’s story, “The Chinless Wonder,” the second in our series from the original Alfred Hitchcock TV shows — in which a man discovers that a new (but fake) beard may be a lot more trouble than it’s worth.

There’s much more, of course, but not much more space. In closing, however, we wanted to note that the film column, “Murder by Direction,” is written this time by Jennifer Shaw, daughter of our regular film reviewer, Peter Shaw, whose doctors thought an operation took precedence over movie-going. (Odd idea, but they did.) Peter is fine and will be back soon; in the meantime, we are very glad to have Ms. Shaw fill in for him.

“Mommy, how fast are we going now?” asked little Joel again, leaning across his older sister to get a glimpse of the speedometer.

“Will you quit bothering Mom?” Sissy scolded, pushing him back. “You can’t read the numbers anyway.”

Alice glanced over at her two children in the front seat and smiled. “Don’t be too critical of Joel, honey. Remember, someday when he’s your age, he may be a better reader than you.”

“That’s right,” agreed Joel, making a production of folding his arms across his chest and giving his sister a “smarter than you” look.

“Why all this sudden interest in how fast I’m driving, Joel?” asked Alice.

Joel turned away and looked at the tips of his shoes sticking out over the edge of his seat.

“Answer me, honey.”

“I can’t tell you,” replied the boy, defensively.

“Why not?”

Joel hesitated a moment and then said, “ ’Cause Charlie told me not to.”

Charlie again, thought Alice bitterly. The court had ordered him to stay away from the kids, and here he was sneaking behind her back and telling her children heaven knows what... her children.

She didn’t want them anywhere near Charlie. It was after five years of marriage that she discovered what a cruel, sadistic man he was. Even so, the marriage might have held together had it not been for her discovery that her husband was a gangland enforcer, inflicting pain and punishment on command from mobster bosses.

Alice no longer thought of him as her husband. Even the children called him “Charlie” instead of “Dad” or “Father.”

“When did you talk to Charlie, Joel?” The tone of her voice frightened the boy a little.

“Yesterday... outside the house.”

“What did he say to you?”

“He told me to give you something when you drove us to Mr. Happyland today.” Mr. Happyland was Joel’s name for the day care center.

“Well, why don’t you give it to me now?” asked Alice, giving her son a reassuring smile.

“Not until you’re going sixty,” said Joel.

“Sixty?... You mean sixty miles an hour?”

Joel nodded.

Alice glanced at the speedometer. “We’re going sixty-two miles an hour.”

Joel reached under his seat belt harness and removed a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. He held it out and Sissy opened it and passed it to her mother.

Alice began to read in glances while she drove.

Dearest Darling:

Don’t let your speed fall below fifty. I’ve put a bomb in your car...

Alice screamed and dropped the note. The car swerved off onto the gravel of the narrow shoulder, and she struggled to regain control and steer it back onto the highway. It fishtailed briefly, scattering gravel, then finally settled back onto the hard surface. She glanced at the speedometer. Fifty-three. She pressed the gas pedal to the floor and the speed climbed quickly. She held it at sixty-five.

“Sissy!” Her voice cracked. “Pick up the note and read it to me.”

“What’s the matter, Mom?” A confused, frightened expression was on the little girl’s face.

“Just do it,” ordered Alice in a trembling voice. Up ahead, a left-turn signal light of a semi blinked on.

Sissy retrieved the paper and began to read aloud.

“ ‘Dearest Darling. Don’t let your speed fall below fifty. I’ve put a bomb in your car and attached it to the speedometer cable coming out of the...’ ”

Sissy held up the paper and pointed at a word.

“Transmission,” said Alice, sharply.

“ ‘... transmission. Sixty miles an hour will arm the bomb, less than fifty miles an hour will det... o...’ ”

“Detonate,” said Alice, trying not to let her fear creep into her voice. A few hundred yards ahead, the semi pulled into the passing lane, suddenly revealing an equally large moving van in the other lane. Both were moving slowly. Alice let the speed drop to fifty-two. Because of the narrow shoulders and ditches on either side of the two lanes, there wasn’t enough room for Alice to get the little hatchback by.

“Come on,” she pleaded to the semi, “get around him, please. Hurry.”

Sissy continued reading.

“ ‘... detonate the bomb. You shouldn’t have left me. My life is ruined and you’re to blame. I hope you live just long enough to think about what you’ve done to me.

“ ‘Hope you remembered to fill the tank. Have a pleasant drive. Charlie.’ ”

Alice breathed a little gasp as she glanced at the gas gauge. Less than an eighth of a tank was left. At the moment, that was the least of her worries. The two big trucks were side by side, creeping along up a small hill, and she had almost caught up with them. Desperately, she leaned on the horn and began to flash the headlights.

She realized she was faced with a horrible decision. Outside the car, the road surface raced by. The mere thought of forcing Joel and Sissy to jump from the moving car made her tremble.

She considered the possibility that the letter was just a cruel hoax, perpetrated by the twisted mind of a man she once called her husband. If she slowed down... She shook her head. She knew Charlie. If he said he had attached such a bomb to the car, he did it. The bomb and the nightmare were both quite real.

The two huge trucks were now directly in front of the hatchback. Alice made her decision.

The biggest opening seemed to be between the two trucks, but even that space didn’t appear large enough. She pushed the accelerator to the floor and the car squeezed into the narrow gap.

The lower corner of the semi’s trailer tore the driver’s side mirror off the little hatchback while the undercarriage of the moving van snapped off the radio antenna and struck a glancing blow to the corner post of the passenger side window. A spider web pattern suddenly appeared across the right side of the windshield as the glass cracked. The speed of the little car began to drop off rapidly as it scraped its way between the thundering trucks.