Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine. Vol. 38, No. 13, Mid-December 1993

Pierre Fernet leaned back in his chair. His puzzled look had been replaced by a grin. “Criminal justice, eh? — with justice dispensed by the criminals. Well, what you two did was definitely not by the book, but as far as this department is concerned, you’ve fulfilled your assignments. It’s lucky for you that Interpol is a private organization and not part of the Turkish government.” Fernet took a slow sip of his tea. “Lila, remind me never to let you get angry with me.”

“I could never be angry with you. You let me have this assignment, and you introduced me to a wonderful partner.” Lila turned to Maxim. “I hope we work together again — soon.”

Pierre Fernet looked at the couple in front of him sipping their tea and smiled. They looked like anyone’s youngish grandparents. “You will,” said Fernet. “I am quite certain you will.”

Never Bite the Hand that... by Don Marshall

“Mr. Nickolas,” called young Andrew as the mortician tamped the last shovelful of earth over his most recent customer.

“Mr. Nickolas, is this grave marker correct? It reads kind of odd.”

“Odd, Andrew? In what way?”

“Well,” Andrew hesitated, fingered his celluloid collar so as not to appear stupid. “Uh, it reads,

Dr. Acula

Count

Beloved Son of European

Royal Family

Died 871

Died 873

Died 1876

Finis

“Isn’t that a bit strange, Mr. Nickolas?”

“Well, yes, Andrew. I must admit I took some liberties with his name. It should read DRACULA; however, not wishing to alarm folks hereabout, I carved the first two letters to suggest a medical background.

“One might accurately describe him as adept in the art of hemotherapy, a method of blood transfusion. The latter portion of his name, acula, seemed appropriate... acu is a Latin adjective meaning sharp, needlelike, or pointed. In this particular case, la reads as an exclamation of wonder or astonishment rather than the sixth note in the diatonic scale.

“Though some claim dracula is actually draco, a Greek noun meaning dragon, I prefer my version. Now, Andrew, let us get our shovels back into the hearse and head for home.”

“Yes, Mr. Nickolas, but the name is not what I meant. It’s all those different dates.”

“Why? Is there something wrong with them?”

“Well, Mr. Nickolas, but how many times...”

“Oh, you mean how many times can one person die? Well, Andrew, since it’s a long ride back to town, I might as well tell you.”

Simon Nickolas, almost well-liked mortician of Bear Valley, California, unobtrusively sampled his flask, settled back in the upholstered seat of his ornate C-spring hearse, and clucked at the horses.

“It all started when I, ever on the lookout for a bargain, noticed an advertisement for European coffins at reduced prices. They were part of a consignment to Stockton, England, but were misdirected to Stockton, California. Since the shipping company was unable to locate the consignee, I bought them at a bargain price.

“Much to my astonishment, I later discovered that one of the containers was already occupied.”

“Gee whiz, Mr. Nickolas, all that time aboard ship, it must have been...”

“Actually not, Andrew. The cadaver, for lack of a better name, appeared in remarkably good condition — well dressed, cutaway, tails, and wrapped in a rather expensive cloak. I was in the act of removing said overgarment when I was suddenly seized by the wrist.”

“You mean...” Andrew gulped.

“Yes, the occupant of the coffin...” Nickolas mused, half aloud. “A rather well-constructed coffin, I must admit, satin lined, solid silver handles, mortised...”

“No, Mr. Nickolas,” Andrew stammered, “I... I mean, uh, who, uh, what, grabbed you?”

“Andrew, in our profession we never, I repeat never, show undue excitement. Proper deportment is essential.”

Young Andrew blushed at the gentle reproof yet reveled in the words “our profession.” He was almost an equal.

The hearse swayed gently while negotiating a curve in the dirt road. The horses kept perfect cadence.

“Count Dracula, as he introduced himself, was not dead, at least in the usual sense, and had chosen this novel method of transportation from his native land to new diggings, so to speak.”

“Yes, but...”

“Andrew, if you persist in interrupting...”

“Sorry, sir.”

“Keen observer that I am, I immediately sensed something strange about this... ahhh... person. He looked rather anemic. He had, in the words of the Bard of Avon, ‘a lean and hungry look.’

“Upon noticing the other coffins spread about the room, he gave me an evil smile and immediately proposed a business partnership. ‘It seems,’ he said, ‘we have similar pursuits.’

“In the meantime, he said, he would like to take a look about town and fluttered off, like a bat, you know. I retired for the night. He must have returned before dawn, since I found him fast asleep in his strange bed when I arose.