King of Murder

Herculeah breezed into the shop. Behind her, Meat came in more slowly and closed the door behind him.

Over the years, Herculeah and Mrs. Jay had become friends, and Mrs. Jay smiled warmly at Herculeah. “I’m glad it’s you, because I’ve got someone I especially want you to meet.”

Herculeah walked to the back of the shop where Mrs. Jay stood with a tall man. He was dressed all in black, and his sharp eyes beneath the brim of his black hat were black, too.

As she got closer, she noticed that he wore a cape. Herculeah hadn’t ever seen a man in a cape, outside of a Dracula movie.

“Herculeah, this is the man I told you about. He writes murder mysteries.” To the man she said, “Herculeah loves mysteries. She’s even solved quite a few.”

“You’re a writer?” Herculeah asked. Perhaps that explained the cape. Her face was bright with interest.

“Wonderful murder mysteries,” Mrs. Jay said. “People tell me his murders are so realistic, you almost feel like you’re there, committing them yourself.”

“Mrs. Jay is too kind,” the man said. “Well, I know a good murder mystery when I hear about it. I don’t read much. I don’t have time.”

“Mathias King!” Herculeah exclaimed. “Mrs. Jay, you did tell me about him. I remember now. And, and”—Herculeah’s excitement grew—“you told me some of the fake murder weapons that inspired his books were bought right here in this very store. I even read A Slash of Life!”

“That’s right,” Mrs. Jay said. “He’s written—I don’t know how many books—and all the murder weapons came from Hidden Treasures.”

“Just my last two,” Mathias King admitted. “My other books were true-crime books—nonfiction. You might have heard of some of them—The Case of the Murdered Monk was perhaps my most famous.”

Herculeah still looked interested, but it was obvious that she hadn’t heard of the unfortunate monk.

Mathias King continued quickly. “However, it was not until I began selecting my weapons here and creating my own murders that I became”—he shrugged as if he hated to say the word, but he had to because it was true—“famous.”

“The first weapon you bought from me,” Mrs. Jay said with a smile of remembrance, “was the letter opener.”

“Ah, that was featured in A Slash of Life,” Mathias King said. “But it was no ordinary letter opener. Oh, no, it was like a very lovely stiletto.” His long, thin fingers drew out the blade in the air, and then with a quick jab thrust it into a victim.

“Ah, yes, the cup, but I like to think of it as a goblet. The goblet was featured in A Sip of Death. But it was no ordinary vessel. It was from the old days. I even like to think that it had once belonged to the Marchese of Rome.”

“The bowl of the goblet was an apple.” His hand cupped the invisible fruit. “And twining up the stem was a snake.” Now the fingers became a snake, coiling around the stem of the goblet. “The snake’s head contained just the tiniest little amount of poison. A touch on the handle of the goblet, and the snake’s mouth opened, his forked tongue appeared, and on the tongue—voilà—a drop of venom.”

Mathias King smiled. “That’s why you let me have it so cheaply.” Then, still smiling, he lifted his eyes from the invisible apple and saw Meat.

“Allllbert,” Mathias King said, drawing out the Ls in a way that made Meat sorry that the man knew any of his names.

Mathias King gave a shrug. It was a practiced move that tossed his cape back over one shoulder.

“Even though you know my name, I’d like you to still think of me as a man of mystery. Everyone does. They glance at me on the street as I pass. They wonder about me behind my back.”

He gave Meat a smile that revealed pointed teeth. Meat felt as if Mathias King had read his mind.

“Oh, they all buy your books.” Mrs. Jay spoke quickly, feeling she had been out of the conversation long enough. She held up a black bag that had been on the counter.