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Sorry, we are Sold Out of This'll Kill Ya
Free Sample Chapter
Chapter One
Detective Keith Bright entered his dull-grey office
and removed his wet see-through plastic raincoat. He
stepped past the large cluttered desk and hung the
dripping raincoat on an old-fashioned wooden coat rack in
the corner. He took off his black suit jacket and draped
it on the chair behind his desk. While he stared unseeing
out the dirty casement window, he loosened his black tie.
He stepped to the large metal bookcase beyond the
filing cabinets and fingered some manila folders. He
moved to the desk and turned on the radio. Again he
stepped to the window and stared out, hands clasped
behind him.
The radio announcer's voice filled the dingy office.
"... funeral of Mr. Titus Cramp, held today at Providence
Church in this city, with the Reverend Kent Boyer
officiating. Mr. Cramp was an experi-enced and highly
respected police detective who worked thirty years for
this city's law enforcement department. He was unmarried,
and dedicated all his time to his work and his church.
Now turning to the weather --"
Keith sat behind the desk. "Rain has continued
throughout the night and early morning. Clearing is
expected by late afternoon, with a high temperature --"
The detective snapped off the radio.
His secretary, Tracey Ellsworth, strode in from the
outer office. "Here's that autopsy you wanted. Came this
morning." She handed him a manila folder, and brushed
imaginary lint from the front of her stylish dark blue
uniform.
"What's it say?" Keith asked as he took the folder.
"Not much. Heart stopped. No reason why."
Keith glanced at the paper without really reading
it. "Not poison?" he asked.
"Nope."
Keith stood up. "I can't understand it. A perfectly
good man, sitting at his desk, doing his job -- drops
dead. Not a mark on him. Nothing wrong with him. What
could have happened?" He stopped and pondered, and shook
his head. "To think that Titus is gone. And we don't know
why."
"Why?" Tracey looked at the ceiling, thinking hard.
"Why did Titus die? Deep question. Why does anyone die?"
"Stop that," Keith said flatly. "No philosophy
games. I mean what caused it?"
"We don't know," Tracey said, somewhat philo-
sophically. A side door opened suddenly and Police Chief
Maureen Kelly stalked in. Tracey looked sharp and
exclaimed, "Good morning, Chief!"
"Good morning." Chief Kelly's voice was tense, and
she appeared to be under severe strain.
"Chief, you look awful," Tracey said with concern.
"Damn rain," she muttered in reply.
Tracey started toward her door to the outer office.
"Yeah, the rain just adds to the misery."
Chief Kelly addressed Keith. "Here's your next
assignment." She held up a manila folder. Tracey paused
at her door, curious.
"So soon after the funeral?" Keith asked. "But,
then, why not?" He smiled wanly. "May as well work as sit
around and feel bad doing nothing."
"Nobody sits around here doing nothing," growled
Chief Kelly. She handed Keith the folder.
"You're right. And you're the chief." Keith said,
taking the folder. "Anything interesting?"
"It could be your most important case," the chief
said.
Tracey stepped toward Keith, very much interested.
"Oh, something big, huh?"
Keith was more casual. "What's up?" he asked the
chief.
"Read that and find out," she told him. "And keep it
quiet." To Tracey she added, "No reporters, no leaks, no
nothing." She turned back to Keith. "That's what Titus
was working on. His last case." Keith opened the folder.
"If it IS a case," she added.
"What does THAT mean?" Keith asked. He fingered the
papers in the open folder. "Not much here." He lay the
folder open on his desk and flipped papers. "Newspaper
clippings. Obits. And this." He picked up a paperback
book with a clean white cover. "What's this?"
"That's a book," the chief said testily. "Titus was
reading it at his desk. It's part of that file."
"It explains the clippings, maybe? And these obits?"
"Maybe," growled the chief. "You find out." She
started toward her door. "That's your assignment."
"I'll get to my desk," said Tracey. She went out and
closed the door after her.
Keith was riffling through the book as Chief Kelly
passed through the door to her inner office. "Hey,
Chief!" he exclaimed.
She wheeled back into his office. "What?"
"The last pages here are stapled shut."
"That's right," she said. "Leave 'em that way."
Keith opened the book nearer the front and read a
little. "Hey, what IS this stuff?"
"You read it. Carefully," she added.
Keith read aloud. "THE GUILT PAGES." He held the
book closer to his face in order to read fine print.
"CAUTION! IF YOU BELIEVE THAT TAKING THE BLAME AND
WALLOWING IN THOUGHTS OF GUILT ARE BAD, READING THESE
PAGES MAY BE HAZARDOUS TO YOUR HEALTH." He looked up at
Chief Kelly. "What is this?"
He held the book at a normal distance from his face
and continued reading. "I BROKE THE LAMP."
He ran a finger down the page, reading each line
slowly, as if reciting a poem.
"I PEED MY PANTS.
"I LIED ABOUT THAT. AND THAT.
"I TOUCHED HER BREASTS, AND IT WAS NO ACCIDENT.
"I TOUCHED HIS CROTCH AND HE GOT A HARD-ON." Keith
looked up. "Chief, what the hell IS this?"
"It's a book. Read it."
"I never saw such stuff." He turned several pages
and continued reading. "THE GUILT PAGES CONTINUED.
"I SEDUCED THE MAILMAN.
"I CHEATED ON MY INCOME TAX.
"THERE IS NOTHING SECRET THAT SHALL NOT BE MADE
KNOWN." He looked up again. "Stupid crap. Why is this in
Titus' file?" He turned the page and read more.
"I SPENT THE NIGHT IN A WHORE HOUSE."
"Really?" asked the Chief.
Keith shook the book and glared at her. "I'm reading
this crap!" He looked down and continued.
"I HIT MY KID, AND IT WAS A BEATING, NOT A SPANKING.
"I VOTED FOR A LIAR, AND THEN A CROOK."
He closed the book. "Look, Chief --"
"I don't mean for you to stand there and read the
book to me," the chief stated. She pointed at his chest.
"I mean YOU read it. And get to the bottom of it." She
turned away and went into her office, closing the door
behind her.
Keith read silently for a little. Tracey opened her
door quietly and came in. Keith jerked, as if guilty, and
slammed the book shut. Then he grinned sheepishly at
Tracey. "Listen to this damn book, Trace." He opened it
again. "I never saw the like." Tracey sat and Keith began
reading.
"THE VIOLENCE PAGES." He held the book close again
for fine print. "CAUTION! IF YOU BELIEVE THAT THINKING
VIOLENT THOUGHTS IS DANGEROUS OR INJURIOUS, READING THESE
PAGES MAY BE HAZARDOUS TO YOUR HEALTH." He held the book
at a normal distance. "I CATCH A GRASSHOPPER AND PULL OFF
ONE WING AT A TIME, THEN ONE LEG AT A TIME, THEN I PULL
THE BELLY-PART OFF, AND THEN THE HEAD."
Tracey made a face. "Yuk. That's terrible."
Keith continued reading. "I PUNCH MY FATHER IN THE
MOUTH, KNOCK HIM DOWN, KICK HIM IN THE BELLY AND THEN IN
THE HEAD, AND THEN CUT OFF HIS TESTICLES." Keith licked
his lips. "God Almighty."
Tracey raised her hands and pursed her lips in
disgust. "That's horrible."
Keith read on:
I CATCH A ROBBER IN MY HOUSE. I TIE HIM UP AND
PULL OUT HIS TOENAILS AND FINGERNAILS WITH
PLIERS, RUN A HOSE UP HIS ANUS AND TURN ON THE
WATER. WHEN HE OPENS HIS MOUTH TO SCREAM, I
CUT OFF HIS TONGUE WITH TIN SHEARS.
"Jesus Christ!" exclaimed Tracey.
Keith looked up. "Ah, yes. The Inquisition." He
turned the page. "Let me read some more."
I AM OPERATING A MACHINE GUN IN A BATTLE AT
THE EDGE OF A BIG FIELD. I TURN THE GUN ON A
LINE OF MEN AS THEY COME OUT OF THE WOODS AND
DOWN A DIRT BANK. I HIT THEM IN THE CHEST, IN
THE HEAD, IN THE BELLY. THEY FALL AND BEGIN TO
PILE UP ON THE BANK. THE BODIES SQUIRM. MORE
MEN KEEP COMING OUT OF THE WOODS AND I KEEP
MOWING THEM DOWN.
Tracey held her stomach. "That's sick."
"That's war," Keith muttered. He flipped the page
and read more.
I TIE HER ON THE BED, ONE WRIST TO EACH
HEAD-POST AND ONE ANKLE TO EACH FOOT-POST. SHE
IS NAKED. SEE ALSO THE SEX PAGES. I STRIKE HER
WITH A SMALL LEATHER WHIP, ON THE LEGS, ON THE
ARMS, IN HER UNDERARMS, ON THE INSIDE OF HER
THIGHS. I TOSS LITTLE NEEDLE-POINT DARTS AT
HER BREASTS AND BELLY. I TAKE OUT A SHARP
KNIFE AND --
Tracey stood and interrupted the reading. "For God's
sake, stop that!"
Keith looked up at Tracey, a little pale in the
face. "Gets to ya, doesn't it?" He turned the book over,
holding his place, and looked at the plain white cover.
"Where the hell did that come from?" Tracey asked.
"That's what I gotta find out," Keith said. "I
guess." He turned a few more pages and read again.
"THE VIOLENCE PAGES CONTINUED." He looked up. "It's
like a poem."
"Some poem," growled Tracey.
"No, I mean the way the page is printed."
Tracey curled her lip. "Read the damn thing."
Keith read:
I HATE, AND AM READY TO MAIM AND KILL, ALL
JEWS.
I HATE, AND AM READY TO MAIM AND KILL, ALL
CATHOLICS.
I HATE, AND AM READY TO MAIM AND KILL, ALL
PROTESTANTS.
Tracey interrupted. "Well, he gets 'em all."
"Yep." Keith ran his finger down the right hand
margin.
-- ALL NIGGERS.
-- ALL CHINKS.
-- ALL SPICKS.
-- ALL HONKIES.
-- ALL MICKS.
-- ALL ARABS.
Hmmm. Hmmm. Hmmm.
I HATE, AND AM READY TO MAIM AND KILL, ALL
CHILDREN.
Tracey interrupted again. "Oh, that's awful."
"Take it easy," said Keith. "It's just a book. A
stupid, sick book." He read further.
"I HATE, AND AM READY TO MAIM AND KILL, ALL WHALES."
He ran his finger down the margin again.
"-- ALL SEALS.
-- ALL PANDA BEARS.
-- ALL ELEPHANTS.
-- ALL LIONS.
-- ALL TREES."
He looked up at Tracey again. "Get his last line --
"I HATE, AND AM READY TO MAIM AND KILL, ALL LIVING
THINGS." He closed the book. "This person is seriously
ill."
"What person?" Tracey asked.
Keith glared at the cover of the book. "The author
of this stuff."
"What else is in the file?"
"Good question," said Keith, laying the book down.
"Let's see." He picked up a newspaper clipping from the
folder. He dropped it and picked up another. "Obit
clippings. A woman in her living room. Unexpectedly." He
dropped the clipping and picked up another. "A woman on
the bus. Unexpectedly. Autopsy inconclusive. Church
funeral. Pall-bearers." He looked up at Tracey. "Why is
Titus collecting obits?"
"Beats me," Tracey admitted. "Are they related? To
each other, I mean."
Keith spread out several clippings on his desk.
"Let's see." He studied for a moment. "Well, now, here's
a husband and wife. Both unexpected. A week apart. And
here's a Mrs. Flandermeyer --" He began flipping through
loose yellow legal sheets. "What was Titus up to?" He
read from the sheets. "`Mrs. Flandermeyer -- on the bus.
Mr. Manling -- at home in bed. Mrs. Manling -- at home in
her living room. Hypothesis --'" Keith looked up. "Here
we go. Titus's hypothesis." He read carefully.
"`Each victim died after reading the book. Mrs.
Flandermeyer died on the bus. Mr. Manling, the bus
driver, took the book home, after the ambulance
attendants left it, behind the seat, or someplace. He
died in his bed, reading the book. His wife, a week
later, still in possession of the book, died in her
reading chair in her living room. I now have possession
of the book in question.'" Keith stared into Tracey's
face. "What kind of silliness is this?"
"I'm sure I don't know," whispered Tracey.
The door to the inner office opened and Chief Kelly
entered. Keith stared into Tracey's face and continued.
"I can't believe Titus could be serious."
"About what?" barked the chief.
"About this whole business, Chief. It's too crazy --
too stupid. If I understand Titus' notes, he thinks
there's a connection between three unexpected and
unexplained deaths."
"So?" said Chief Kelly, arching a black eyebrow.
"Get to the bottom of it."
"And he thinks the connection is this book!" cried
Keith.
"So?" Chief Kelly brushed her red hair back with her
hand. "Check it out."
"Is he blaming those three deaths on a book?"
"It's a hypothesis. Every one of those persons, it
appears, was reading that book." She gestured toward it
as it lay on Keith's desk. "At the time of death.
Autopsies aren't explaining anything."
"Three deaths, caused by a book."
"Four," corrected Chief Kelly.
"Four?" Keith scratched among the clippings and then
suddenly jerked back. "Oh, my God! You mean Titus, too!"
"Evidently. Titus was reading that book at his desk
at the time of death."
Keith became excited. "Well, run lab tests on the
book, on the binding, on the glue in the binding, on the
ink. On the staples in the back." He looked at his hands,
and wiggled his fingers.
Chief Kelly was crisp and businesslike. "Titus was
an old pro, Mr. Bright. He did that already. No
chemicals. No poisons. No indication of poison in the
autopsies, or in the lab analysis of the book. And don't
worry about the staples."
"Why not?"
"Because I stapled it, just before I handed the file
over to you."
"Whatever for?"
"I don't want you killed." Chief Kelly was deadly
serious.
"Killed?" howled Keith. "How'm I gonna get killed if
there's no poison?"
"I don't know. I know I need you on the case. If
there IS a case. Danger is part of the job here, but I
don't want you hurt needlessly or carelessly."
"Danger!" gasped Keith, staring in disbelief at his
boss.
Tracey reached toward him. "Titus is dead, Keith.
Take it easy, and pay attention."
He exerted force to calm himself down very
deliberately. "O.K., O.K. Now lemme get this straight.
Three -- no, FOUR people are dead. Titus thought this
book --" Keith stalled. He picked up the book gingerly,
and then looked at Chief Kelly. "You think --" He stopped
and scratched his head. "You think the danger is in
READING it?" The chief raised her shoulders and gestured
"Who-knows?" with her hands. "Reading it," Keith
continued. "Reading ALL of it. So you stapled the last
pages shut." He paused. All three were silent a moment.
"That's incredible," Keith said, finally. He waved the
book just a little in his hand. "There's certainly been
no effect on me so far," he said with a faint smile.
"Are you sure?" the Chief asked quietly.
Keith touched his chest, pulled his ear with his
free hand, scratched his hair. "Sure. I feel fine. Fine."
Tracey fluffed her hair and rubbed her lower arms.
"And hearing it didn't hurt me any," she said to Chief
Kelly. "I don't think," she added.
Keith held up the book and read the cover. "THIS'LL
KILL YA. THE LAST WORD ON CENSORSHIP." He held the book
closer to his face, to read fine print on the cover.
"CAUTION: READING THIS BOOK MAY BE HAZARDOUS TO YOUR
HEALTH." He looked up again, glancing from Chief Kelly to
Tracey. "A line swiped from the tobacco and liquor
people."
"No, Keith. From the Surgeon General," Tracey
corrected.
Keith opened the cover and read the title page.
"THIS'LL KILL YA. CAUTION. PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK."
Again he stopped and looked at the women. "Aw, c'mon. Is
this some gag?"
"No, Mr. Bright. No gag." The Chief headed toward
her door. "Four dead people. And the only clue is that
book."
Keith waved the book after her. "You really think
that this is the book, which, if you read it, it'll kill
ya?"
"I don't know," the Chief admitted very soberly. "I
think Titus believed that."
"Why'd he read it, then? Why'd he LET it
kill him?"
"I don't know," the Chief said quietly. "I don't
know whether it kills, or how. Your assignment is to
clear this up. And don't get killed carrying it out."
Keith shook his head. "Thanks for the concern." He
opened the book again, near the middle. "I just can't
believe it. This is the book that, if ya read it, it'll
kill ya. So read it, but don't let it kill ya. It's too
crazy."
"Lots of deadly things are," the Chief stated
ominously and went back into her inner office.
