By Fredric Brown
Any beginner can dispose of kin. however it takes a qualified to kill a nearly excellent stranger. Fiendishly convoluted and sometimes grotesquely humorous, this can be a story of geometrically multiplying homicides and a foolproof homicide whose repercussions hold spreading to eat sufferer after victim.
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Any beginner can eliminate relatives. however it takes a qualified to kill a nearly excellent stranger. Fiendishly convoluted and infrequently grotesquely humorous, it is a story of geometrically multiplying homicides and a foolproof homicide whose repercussions maintain spreading to devour sufferer after sufferer.
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Extra resources for His Name Was Death
Not over ten minutes' drive. Plenty of time. He reached for the ignition key and then pulled his hand back. Something to decide first. Could he go as he was, in his own identity and without a disguise, invent some story that would let him offer Atkins ninety dollars in other bills, in real bills, telling him the money the girl had given him had been—had been what? What could have been so special about those nine ten dollar bills that would be important enough that he'd be making a special trip to get them back and offer other money instead?
And they'd be getting their dinners at this time of day, anyway, and not snooping out of front windows. He made himself walk normally until he was inside the front door, and then he worked fast. Stripped off his suit and shoes, put on the suit with the heavily padded shoulders and the elevator shoes. Took off his glasses and changed his regular dentures for the gimmicked ones that made his face so different. No time to do the hair-dye job, but he'd keep his hat on. He got a felt hat from the closet; the only time Atkins had even seen him, yesterday when they'd made the car deal, he'd not been wearing a hat.
The disguise was in the suitcase in the car, right behind him, and he could have made the change inside the printing shop, but he'd need his gun too, and that was at home. Well, he still had time. — 37 — He parked right in front of the house. No time to worry about the neighbors possibly noticing a strange man leaving his house and driving away in his car. And they'd be getting their dinners at this time of day, anyway, and not snooping out of front windows. He made himself walk normally until he was inside the front door, and then he worked fast.
His Name Was Death by Fredric Brown