Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 124, Nos. 3 & 4. Whole Nos. 757 & 758, September/October 2004

“This is your dress, Mrs. Korda?”

“Well, it’s not the neighbor’s.”

Eleanor almost clucked. There was that attitude again.

“It appears to have blood on it. Did you accidentally spill any blood on it recently?”

“This is ridiculous. There is no way my dress could have that young man’s blood on it.”

“You’re suggesting someone else planted this evidence?”

Eleanor nearly bit through the tip of her tongue, which was sticking out the way she liked to do to help her figure out math problems.

“Those jealous clerks at Zamphir’s. They’d do anything to get rid of me. They’re trying to set me up—”

“You expect us to believe this is a conspiracy?”

“You’re making a mistake, young man!”

Eleanor couldn’t stand it any longer. She slid back into the living room and took a deep breath.

“Mom—”

“Not now!” Eleanor’s mother almost roared.

Eleanor’s eyes filled with tears. The cops looked embarrassed, and the big one scowled even harder at Mrs. Korda.

“But Mom, I have to tell you something.”

“Don’t make me do something we’ll both regret, missy.”

Eleanor hesitated.

“I’m warning you,” her mother said. Eleanor had always found that when her mother warned her, it was best to pay attention. She sighed and hung her head.

The big cop’s scowl was replaced by a satisfied grin when the female cop came in from the garage with the knife.

Eleanor felt sad as she thought of her mother in jail. Tears filmed her eyes so she couldn’t read the next math problem.

“Now, young lady, quit feeling sorry for yourself,” her mother would say. “Look on the bright side.” And for once it was true. At least her mother would never find out Eleanor had misbehaved.

Clean Sweep by Debbie DiBacco

I’m afraid of the thoughts that go round in my head,
For more and more often, I think of you dead.
With bludgeon, with hammer, with poison and pain,
You’ve much to lose; I’ve much to gain.

My home will be quiet, my kitchen so clean.
My floors will have that “just polished” sheen.
The only opinion that counts will be mine.
No compromise, no sharing, oh, won’t that be fine!

So how shall I do it and when will it be?
Well, that will be up to both you and to me.

Take those muddy shoes off; put a dish in the sink;
Pick up after yourself; maybe buy me a mink.
Those rings round the bathtub will just have to go;
Now do you understand what maddens me so?

I’m patient; I’ve given chances — all that I can.
But I’m tired of hearing, “I’m a typical man.”
It’s no fun following you round with a broom,
Crumbs fall from your mouth as you move room to room!

So the next time you see my eyes start to flash,
It’s that exact moment that could be your last.

The Westphalian Ring by Jeffery Deaver

Jeffery Deaver is the modern-day master of the twist ending, but we should warn readers that there’s a sort of genre heresy committed in the twist in this one — quite intentionally and all in fun. Mr. Deaver’s latest novel, Garden of Beasts, is a thriller set in Berlin in 1936, just before the Nazi Olympics. Like many of his books, it will be released first in Europe, but is expected in U.S. bookstores by July. Just out in paperback: 2003’s The Vanished Man.

* * *

The Charing Cross burglary had been the most successful of his career.

And, as he was now learning, it would perhaps be the one that would permanently end this vocation.

As well as earn him a trip to a fetid cell in Newgate prison.