The Second Richard Deming Mystery MEGAPACK™: 23 Classic Mystery Stories
- Автор: Деминг Ричард
- Год: 2016
- Язык: английский
- Год: Wildside Press
- ISBN: 9781479423507
- Жанр: Другие детективы
Электронная книга - «The Second Richard Deming Mystery MEGAPACK™: 23 Classic Mystery Stories». Краткое содержание книги:
Instead of stopping at the drug store, he walked on two blocks to a branch public library, drew out a textbook of materia medica and retired with it to the reading room.
He discovered that one of the primary uses of codeine was to lessen coughing, which explained why the prescription had been written. He also learned that it was a compound of morphine and was one of the active alkaloids of opium. It was listed as a safer drug than morphine, and he searched every indexed reference to the drug without finding an indication of how much constituted a fatal dose, or even any indication that it was a dangerous poison.
However, he was certain it would be fatal in a large enough dose, for it was included under the general heading of “Brain and Spinal Cord Depressants,” along with opium, morphine and the illegal drug, heroin.
Rechecking the prescription, he deduced that the figure “XXX” probably meant thirty tablets. At a half grain each, this came to fifteen grains, certainly enough of any opiate to kill a person.
Satisfied that he had a poison which would work, he took out his fountain pen and carefully duplicated the prescription on the blank sheet. He forged a reasonable facsimile of the doctor’s signature, not taking too great pains with it because he knew it would not be subjected to the same scrutiny a bank might give a check. The office heading and the fact that the terminology was authentic were enough to make it acceptable to the average druggist.
He walked six blocks to another drug store where he was unknown to get the forged prescription filled. Then he returned to his own neighborhood drug store to have the two filled which the doctor had written.
When he finally got home, he received a sound tongue lashing from his sister for taking so long, but he accepted it stoically. For consolation he fingered the extra bottle in his pocket.
For the first time in weeks Homer didn’t retreat into his world of fantasy. For now he had the reality of definitely planned action to replace his dreams. He was in such a state of anticipation all weekend he could hardly wait to get home Monday evening.
If there had been any lingering qualms in Homer Withers’ mind about committing sororicide, they were extinguished by Samantha’s reception. Her normal unpleasantness had been aggravated by her cold until she was impossible.
She greeted him with an ominous, “I suppose you forgot to mail the insurance premium again.”
Time had on more than one occasion flitted by Homer unnoticed — it was a genuine surprise to him that a full month had passed since he had belatedly mailed the last premium.
Samantha launched into such a blistering attack on his mental shortcomings, he retreated headlong up the stairs in the middle of her tirade. His hands shook as he wrote the check. He was downstairs again and on his way to the mailbox before his sister could get her second wind.
The incident spoiled all chance of their last evening together being a pleasant one. Dinner was accompanied by a monologue by Samantha on her favorite subject: why didn’t Homer do her the favor of dropping dead? Afterward, as they sat in the front room, she froze him with a silence so forbidding, he was afraid to open his mouth.
It was a relief when she finally indicated it was near bedtime by saying, “I’ll have my chocolate now, if you think you have sense enough to put it together properly.”
Homer had the hot chocolate all made and poured into a cup before he realized his oversight. It would have been better to have crushed the thirty codeine tablets into a powder so that they would dissolve more easily. He swore mildly at his chronic forgetfulness. Pouring some of the tablets into his hand, he stared at them blankly for a moment. Then he got down an empty cup and began crushing them one at a time with a spoon.
It was a slow process; he was but two-thirds finished when Samantha’s impatient voice called from the front room, “What are you doing, dreamer? Staring off into space?”
His heart hammering in fear she would enter the kitchen, he called back, “It’s almost ready, Samantha. Just one more minute.”
As rapidly as possible he crushed the remaining tablets, scraped the powder into the chocolate and stirred it vigorously. When it was completely dissolved, he touched his tongue to the solution and was panic stricken to find it faintly bitter. He shoveled in two extra teaspoonfuls of sugar, stirred it and tasted it again. It now tasted normal.
He carried the cup and saucer out to Samantha who, after accepting it with a grunt, went through her usual ritual of pouring some into the saucer for Roger.
Immediately the cat dropped from his favorite spot on the window ledge, padded to the saucer and tentatively explored the chocolate’s temperature. Then, instead of sitting back to wait for it to cool, he lapped the dish clean.
Homer stared in horror, realizing that the time consumed in crushing the codeine tablets had allowed the chocolate to cool sufficiently to please the cat. Homer watched, fascinated, as the animal licked its whiskers, stretched and mooed itself against Samantha’s calf.
Samantha took a sip from the cup, and exploded.
“You idiot!” she screamed at Homer. “Can’t you do anything right? This chocolate is merely lukewarm!”
Homer gulped, his eyes on Roger. Roger looked up at him.
“Take it back to the kitchen.” Samantha ordered. “Heat it up. You know I want hot chocolate.”
Homer took the cup and carried it to the kitchen. Dumping the contents into a sauce pan, he turned the gas on full. Just before it boiled he removed the pan from the flame, poured the chocolate back in the cup. He got back to Samantha just as fast as he could.
For once Homer did an efficient job. Too efficient. The chocolate was too hot to drink. After sampling it by taking the barest sip, Samantha set the cup aside to let it cool.
As Homer watched the cat in an agony of apprehension, precious minutes dragged by. He knew he could never get Samantha to pick up the cup.
Roger was back on the ledge, purring, begging, Homer felt sure, for more chocolate. If Roger would just die quietly there, Samantha would never know.
Homer took a deep breath as Samantha finally raised the cup to her lips. She paused, said in an impatient voice, “Oh, all right, Roger, you may have a drop more.”
The cat sprung off the window ledge, wobbled on his feet, looked up once more at Homer. The animal took a step toward the saucer, and suddenly his front legs collapsed.
Samantha stared at Roger in puzzlement, and Homer watched in terror, as the cat struggled to his feet, took another aimless step and fell over on his side. His eyes rolled and his breathing began to grow heavy.
Samantha glanced from the cat to her brother. Her eyes narrowed, and she said, “You drink my chocolate this evening, Homer.”
Homer gibbered an unintelligible refusal. Roger’s heavy breathing stopped.
“You actually meant to kill me, didn’t you?” she said in a tone of soft satisfaction.
Homer gazed at her without immediate understanding. She added gently, “My dear brother, two can play at that game.”
He understood her sudden air of satisfaction then. His act had given her the moral excuse she needed to turn her often-expressed hope into reality, and Homer knew he was lost. He had no idea of where to obtain more poison, and no murder plan aside from poison.
But Samantha was different. She was efficient. She would be able to devise any number of alternate plans.
Any of which would work.
The Price of Fame
Originally published in Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, March 1964.