The Corpse in the Crystal

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By the time Abner Murder and I got on the death wagon, the kill fest was going strong and showing no sign of stopping. Every one of the deaths indicated that the grim reaper had gone on a whimsical spree — except that death is never whimsical.

Murder and I had no idea we would become involved in the affair. Subsequent investigation showed those initial deaths happened something like this:

We’ll take Frank Snow first, though no one is sure even now which victim received the first note. Snow was in the same business as the chief and I; he was a private detective.

We weren’t proud of that fact and didn’t regard him as an ethical member of the profession. Snow was the sort of slim, sleek man who didn’t care particularly how he made his dimes. A little blackmail in the course of regular business he regarded as a natural by-product of the operation of a private detective agency.

His secretary was at the courthouse that morning, looking up a trial in the court records that Snow was interested in. He was alone in his fifteenth floor office as he began opening his morning mail. He was tranquil, with a deep sense of well-being at the moment he opened the thin white envelope. He read the contents, and a slow frown furrowed his brow. He crushed out his cigarette abruptly, read the note again:

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