Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 140, Nos. 3 & 4. Whole Nos. 853 & 854, September/October 2012
- Автор: Макдермид Вэл, Манфредо Лу
- Год: 2012
- Язык: английский
- Год: Dell Magazines
- ISBN: 0013-6328
- Жанр: Другие детективы
Электронная книга - «Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 140, Nos. 3 & 4. Whole Nos. 853 & 854, September/October 2012». Краткое содержание книги:
Still reeling from his devastating encounter with her, he confirmed that he knew her with a vague gesture.
“She’s dead, and her companion too,” said the paramedic, shutting the rear door of the ambulance.
A pair of policemen emerged from the crowd of spectators gathering in the rain to gawk at the accident and asked him to go with them. Overwhelmed by all the commotion, and his painful bruises, he let himself be led away, quietly, all the while thinking about how the laws of chance are part of the strange architecture that destiny designs for us.
Copyright © 2012 by Eliécer Cárdenas;
translation Copyright © 2012 by Kenneth Wishnia
A Path to Somewhere
by Lou Manfredo
Lou Manfredo began his Gus Oliver series in EQMM with the August 2009 story “Central Islin, U.S.A.” and continued it with January 2012’s “Home of the Brave.” This new episode brings in characters from his non-series 2006 story “The Alimony Prison.” In it, Oliver is presented with a case involving the former madam of a New York City brothel who has come to live in his small town in Long Island. Lou Manfredo’s latest novel is Rizzo’s Daughter (Minotaur 3/12).
Early Wednesday morning, March 2, 1960, Gus Oliver sat in the jury box of the county courthouse with eleven fellow citizens, quietly awaiting the judge’s appearance. The courthouse was located in the Suffolk County seat at Riverhead, Long Island, New York.
Gus finished the Newsday article he had been reading. He shook his head grimly, reflecting on the story: A crowd estimated at over one hundred thousand had given a rousing, confetti-strewn welcome to Soviet Premier Nikita Khrushchev as he rode through the streets of the capital city of some strange country called Afghanistan. Apparently, the United States had offered only a few million dollars in aid to the Afghans. The Soviets had then stepped in with 300 million more in aid and material to strengthen the Afghan army in its struggle with neighboring Pakistan.
Gus didn’t possess great insight into international affairs, but he knew this much: The news could mean only one thing — trouble for the U.S. somewhere down the road.
He folded the newspaper and dropped it to the floor. Idly, he began looking around the courtroom. After a moment, he smiled. Well, now, he thought. That’s mighty interesting.
Superior Court Justice Robert Basil Maull gazed across the large mahogany desk in his chambers. Sitting before him were County Prosecutor Jack Daino, prominent Long Island attorney Andrew Saks, and Gus Oliver.
“Mr. Oliver,” Judge Maull began. “As a prospective juror in this case, you have been challenged for cause by Mr. Saks. What that translates to is, he does not wish to use one of his limited peremptory challenges — one which would excuse you from consideration for no specifically stated reason. Instead, he has chosen to use one of his unlimited challenges for cause by raising the issue of your thirty years’ service as town constable in Central Islin. He believes your law-enforcement background may inadvertently
prejudice you toward the prosecution. How do you respond to that, sir?”
“Well, Judge, as everyone here knows, I retired some time ago. I’m just a local farmer now, and Central Islin has hired itself a police chief and two patrolmen.”
“Yes,” Saks said from Gus’s right. “But since your retirement, Mr. Oliver, you’ve been involved in two private investigations, and with some spectacular results, I might add. As far as my clients’ interests lie, you are, sir, still active in law enforcement.”
Prosecutor Daino spoke up. “Now hold on, Andrew, that’s just nonsense. Are you going to challenge every citizen that ever supported his local police department? If you want Oliver off this panel, you use one of your peremptories. I will not agree to—”
Judge Maull held a palm up and outward as he spoke. “All right, just relax, Jack, hold your horses.” He turned to Gus before continuing. “I think we can settle this matter easily enough if you’ll answer me one question, Mr. Oliver.”
Gus shrugged. “Sounds reasonable, Judge. Go ahead. Ask.”
“I was delayed for a bit in my robing room. After you and the other prospective jurors were seated in the box, you had some fifteen minutes before I came into the courtroom.” The judge sat back in his seat, his large blue eyes twinkling with what Gus believed to be mild amusement.
“Tell me, Mr. Oliver. From your experiences as a policeman, did you happen to draw any inferences as you sat there? Notice anything that might be, shall we say, an impediment to your impartiality?”
“Funny you should ask, Judge,” Gus said, returning the man’s smile. “I did sorta make an assumption or two.”
Judge Maull nodded. “I suspected as much. Would you mind telling us what they were?”
“Well, now, Judge, I believe you said I’d have to answer only one question, and by my count that one’s number three. But... no, I don’t mind one bit.”
Gus turned slightly to his right, addressing both attorneys.
“We were told this here was a drug case. That young fella sitting at the defense table is accused of sellin’ narcotics to some of those rich city folk who’ve been coming out to the Hamptons these last coupla summers and partying a lot. Now, I don’t have much experience with drug dealers per se, but I ain’t stupid either. That young man out there has a codefendant, also represented by Mr. Saks, only he’s not present in the courtroom. You folks are trying one defendant and one empty chair. I also noticed the county sheriff’s deputy sittin’ way across the courtroom reading a magazine, not payin’ the slightest bit of attention to the defendant. That means the young fella is out on bail, not incarcerated, so that deputy ain’t at all concerned about a possible escape. Now, you’re pretty well known, Mr. Saks, and I’m figurin’ your services don’t come cheap. That there wristwatch you’re wearin’ is probably worth more than my fifty-nine Edsel. So, what have we got? A local young man accused of sellin’ drugs who somehow has enough money to A) post his bail and B) hire himself a big-ticket lawyer. Plus, we got a second defendant who isn’t even here. That sorta puts a bee in my bonnet, gentlemen. I’m thinking that second young man musta posted his bail too. Then he skipped out, forfeiting every dime. If he gets acquitted, he comes back to town and apologizes. ‘Oops, sorry. I forgot.’ If, on the other hand, he gets convicted, good luck findin’ him. Either way, he’s not real concerned about that lost bail money.”
Andrew Saks, color coming into his cheeks, interrupted. “Now you look here, sir—”
Gus waved a friendly hand at him. “Take it easy now, Counselor, just relax. Seems to me I’m gettin’ you that challenge for cause you’re looking for. A really good lawyer knows when to dummy up.”
Saks considered it. “Go ahead then,” he said.
“Well, here’s what I’m startin’ to suspect. We got us a coupla big-earning drug dealers on trial here. Now, can I be wrong? Sure can. But — somebody’s maybe gonna have to prove to me I’m wrong. That might be you, Mr. Saks. And the law says the defense never has to prove any damn thing. That’s the prosecutor’s job.”