Книги автора Deming Richard

The first two bodies were found in a lover’s lane... His girl friend, still alive, described the stick-up artist as mild-mannered, courteous, of medium build and wearing glasses. It was a description that fitted half the male population of Los Angeles. It was almost the only clue Joe Friday and Frank Smith had to catch the murderer.

The courteous killer struck again! Then again! This time Joe Friday was waiting for him with a gun. But the criminal escaped with only a bullet wound.

When Joe Friday opened his mail, there was an unsigned, misspelled note. It read: “You chink your a smart badge. Nobody burns me and lives, cop. Start swetting.”

Dan Fancy had fashioned a perfect frame for a crime giant when he went after Big Jim Calhoun. But how could it fit the grim picture, when the boss’s victim seemed to prefer his death-cell to the good air of freedom?

Only Mr. Moon, dizzy murder specialist, would dust off the hot squat for his pal, Mouldy — then try it on, himself, for size!

“You still haven’t searched my person,” she said. “The warrant says ‘the premises and person of Beverly Arden.’”

“It’s a pleasant thought,” Sergeant Matt Rudd said dryly, “but women have to be searched by matrons.”

“Don’t be silly,” Beverly said. “You can’t search a woman forcibly, but you have my permission...”

Rudd hesitated. “All right,” he said, “hold your arms straight out.” He ran his hands along her arms and sides and down her legs. She felt firm and shapely, and when he finished he was perspiring slightly. “I guess you’re clean,” he said huskily.

“You didn’t do nearly as thorough a job as you did on the apartment,” she said.

There was a momentary pause, as Rudd took her in with his eyes. “All right,” he said. Then he reached out and loosened the top button of her pajama top...

Too many bodies... — spoil even the best of parties... unless, of course, it’s one of Miss Sedalia’s exclusive soirees — for murderers only!

Mr. Deming has developed so neatly an idea so fresh and striking that we feel no introduction is necessary. Go ahead to this completely new kind of time-travel story, with a concept that will stick in your mind through all your future reading of science fiction.

He found her in a quiet bar — a sulky-mouthed, awkward, green-eyed kid trying desperately to pick up a man. He taught her how to dress, to walk, to laugh, turned her into the kind of woman who makes every man reach into his pocket for hundred-dollar bills.

Looking at her now, Sam was proud of himself. He had done a good job on her.

Yeah, it was too bad she had to go... the same way as the others.

If someone had told Gamble Clancy Ross that a stenographer — just out of secretarial school, at that — could start a gang war, he would have grinned and suggested an immediate sojourn in a mental institution for the prognosticator. Even if that same someone had described the chick in question — blond, shaped like a Don Juan’s dream girl and measuring 38-28-38 — he still would have suggested a tonic for tired blood and mental fatigue. And yet that’s exactly what transpired. Stella Parsons just happened to be privy to information which would put a Syndicate biggie on the hot seat. Clancy just happened to think it would be a waste of natural resources to expose Stella to the disease known as rigor mortis, and he therefore endangered his own future enjoyment of Stella’s services (nonsecretarial) by engaging two rival gangs in a war for the control of town ironically named Saint Stephen.

Harrowing tales of mayhem, murder versus moonshine acting as counter irritants and prescribed by spine-tingling specialists chosen for you this month by the MASTER OF SUSPENSE

ALFRED HITCHCOCK’S HOW-TO-DO-IT BOOK Including: • How to solve your marital problems       —(poison) • How to dress properly when admitting to first degree murder       —(black tie) • How to take off a few pounds fast       —(a knife) • How to ruin a perfect friendship       —(a homemade bomb) And many, many other helpful hints from such specialists as: EVAN HUNTER, JOHN CORTEZ, RAY BRADBURY, RICHARD STARK, RICHARD MATHESON, HELEN NIELSON, DONALD WESTLAKE, RICHARD DEMING, JACK RITCHIE, JONATHAN CRAIG, C. B. GILFORD, JAY STREET, ROBERT ARTHUR, FLETCHER FLORA, CHARLES EINSTEIN

Tutter King had it made. Every time he spun a platter on “The King’s Session,” gold came out: TV earnings, returns on his secret holdings in recording companies, the old payola that some bright young men think only their rightful due. Tutter was a gay young man-around-town. He was also involved in some highly romantic hanky-panky with his pretty blond assistant, Lola Arkwright. And then the roof started to cave in. Senate Investigating Committees. The angry emergence of the wife who Lola never knew existed. The canceling of his network contract. Poor Tutter, it looked like he was going to lose everything. Even his life!

If you don't shudder with every twist and sudden thrust of these 16 terror tales…

if you are able to turn off your bedside lamp after closing this volume and drift off to a deep, dreamless sleep…

if you can drink your morning coffee without thinking there just might be a peculiarly bitter taste to it, or turn your back on your spouse or best friend without feeling a funny itching between your shoulder blades…

then that lovable old master of menace, Alfred Hitchcock, apologizes and personally guarantees you your full payment in horror. All you have to do is meet him in the cemetery under the next murderer's moon…