Small Felonies - Fifty Mystery Short Stories by Bill Pronzini Read Free Book Online Page B

so the bell went on ringing . . .
    He half-ran to the desk, jerked up the receiver.
    . . . tick . . . tick . . . tick . . .
    Louder, now, it seemed; even louder than the last time. Sweat sheened Carmody's face and neck. Wait him out, he thought, don't say anything. Make him commit himself, wait him out . . .
    . . . tick . . . tick . . . tick . . .
    . . . wait . . . wait . . . wait . . .
    . . . tick . . . tick . . . tick . . .
    It got to Carmody finally; he just couldn't stand it anymore. He shouted, "Goddamn you, Halpern, I've had enough! When I hang up I'm going to call the police and my lawyer. You hear me?"
    . . . tick . . . tick . . . tick . . .
    "I mean it! I'm not making idle threats here!"
    . . . tick . . . tick . . . tick . . .
    Get control of yourself , Carmody thought shakily. This is what he wants you to do, blow your cool . He wiped away sweat with his free hand. As he did so, his gaze fell on the antique Seth Thomas clock on one wall. One minute to noon. Was that all? It seemed like half a day since Halpern's first call, but it had only been two hours . . .
    Two hours. Ten o'clock to noon.
    Carmody's hand spasmed into a clawlike tightness around the receiver. His heart began to race, his brain to whirl furiously.
    Two hours, ten until noon—Angela had taken off from SFO at ten on Thursday morning and he had set the tiny alarm-clock timer on the bomb for exactly noon—Halpern had returned to San Francisco yesterday and this house had been deserted and there were a hundred nooks and crannies, a hundred potential hiding places in an old house like this one—and Halpern was a heavy construction worker, and that meant he had access to—
    "No!" Carmody screamed. He dropped the receiver and turned wildly to run, just as the clock on the wall was about to strike noon.
    . . . tick . . . tick . . . ti—

DEAR POISONER
     
    D ear Poisoner,
    That's right, Fentress, I know you're the one who poisoned my goldfish pond. There's nobody else in this neighborhood as mean, nasty, and black-hearted. I know why you did it, too—just because I plowed under your damned ugly rhododendron bushes that were growing on my property. I had every right to do them in with my rototiller and you know it.
    We've had our disputes in the past, you and I, most of them on account of you being so pig-headed about the boundary line and Rex's barking and Blanche sunbathing in the nude. (Don't think I've forgotten you telling people she resembles the Great White Whale, because I haven't.) But this time you've gone too far. You're not going to get away with what you did to my poor little innocent goldfish.
    I can't prove you did it, can't turn you in to the police or the SPCA, so you think you're untouchable. Right? Well, you're not. There are other ways to make you answer for murdering my fish.
    You're not going to get away with it.
    Frank Coombs
     
    Dear Poisoner,
    Too bad about the fire that destroyed part of your garage last night. I wondered about those fire engines I heard in the wee hours, and now I know. Jones, the accountant over on your block, told me a little while ago.
    Spontaneous combustion, eh, Fentress? Well, maybe now you'll clean out what's left of that rat's nest inside your garage so nothing like last night ever happens again. Next time, you know, it could be even worse.
    Frank Coombs
     
    Dear Poisoner,
    So now it's dogs, is it? It wasn't enough to poison my poor defenseless fish, now you had to go and murder my dog.
    You're a lunatic, that's what you are. A lunatic and a menace and something has to be done about you before you go berserk and start poisoning everybody's pets in the whole damn neighborhood.
    You mark my words: Rex will not go unavenged.
    Coombs
     
    Dear Poisoner,
    You don't scare me, Fentress. It's not my fault somebody in your house was stupid enough to accidentally shut off the pilot light on the water heater. Maybe you did it yourself. I wouldn't be surprised. If you almost died of asphyxiation, if the whole