Death on Morris Street E-Book

Arthur Leo Zagat

• Herausgeber: Al-Mashreq eBookstore
• Kategorie: Krimi
• Serie: Doc. Turner Series
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 32

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

Death on Morris Street by Arthur Leo Zagat is a riveting crime thriller that unravels the dark underbelly of a seemingly quiet neighborhood. When a prominent businessman is found murdered on Morris Street, the peaceful community is thrown into chaos. Detective Sam Ross is called in to crack the case, only to discover a web of deceit, hidden agendas, and secrets that run deeper than he imagined. With each twist and turn, Ross must navigate a maze of suspects, motives, and clues to uncover the truth behind the chilling murder. Can he solve the case before the killer strikes again, or will Morris Street's secrets remain buried? Dive into this pulse-pounding thriller where every revelation is more shocking than the last.

Leseprobe

Table of Contents

Death on Morris Street

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Landmarks

Table of Contents

Cover

Death on Morris Street

Doc. Turner Series

By: Arthur Leo Zagat

Analyzed, summrized, and edited by: Rafat Allam

Copyright © 2024 by Al-Mashreq Bookstore

First published in Dime Mystery Magazine, August 1936

No part of this publication may be reproduced whole or in part in any form without the prior written permission of the author

1

The girl in his telephone booth made three Morris Street girls who had sought self-destruction in as many weeks. Doc Turner, very much disturbed, decided to investigate and, if possible, prevent more such untimely deaths!

ABIE, the errand boy in Andrew Turner's drug store on Morris Street, flipped a not too clean rag over the front of the telephone booth. Then he pulled its door open—and screamed!

There was the crash of a hastily dropped pestle from the back room and Doc Turner rushed out. "What is it, Abie?" he cried. "What's happened?" He lunged across the store to where the youngster was staring, voiceless, his hand clenched on the door edge and the grimed swarthiness of his face turned to a greenish gray.

Doc had to jerk hard on the contorted shape to extricate it from the cramped compartment. It came loose with a rip of tearing fabric and slid, sickeningly limp, out onto the floor. The body straightened, was revealed as a young woman, her face white as the tiles under her, a reddish-brown liquid dribbling from one corner of her carmine mouth.

"At," Abie exclaimed. "Ai, eet's Lena Hammerschlag!"

Doc sniffed at the tell-tale stain. "Iodine!" he snapped. "Get the box of corn starch, Abie, and water in a big graduate. Hustle!"

The boy scurried to the rear and the pharmacist reached for the girl's pulse. Her pointed, red-daubed nails were dug into a slip of paper. Turner pulled it away, glanced at it, and stuffed it into a pocket of his splotched alpaca coat. He fumbled for and found the almost nonexistent beat in the flaccid wrist.

Faces were pressed against the window in the store door, noses flattened against the plate glass made moist-looking, greenish spots from which wisps of gray haze spread downward. The girl twitched, whimpered. Doc shifted his position so that her face was hidden from the peering, morbidly-curious eyes. "Lord," he muttered.

Abie ran out, a yellow, oblong box in one hand, in the other a broken-lipped quart graduate half full. "Here, Meester Toiner. Here dey are."

The pharmacist snatched them from him, set the graduate on the floor, sprinkled the white powder into it. "Shoot the bolt on the door," he directed, "and then call the police for an ambulance." He pulled a spatula from his vest pocket, stirred the starchy mixture.

Abie's dark eyes were glittering with excitement. He grabbed a blue carton from a shelf on his way to the door and called, "Shall I put eet de Nastin's Coughlex een de vinder?"

"Yes," Doc blurted, preoccupied with his task of forcing Lena's mouth open and tipping the antidote into it in a slow stream. "Of course." Where the mixture splashed on the dribble of iodine it turned a purplish blue. "Hey, what did you say that for?"

"De seegnal I shouldn't know eet, dot you vant Jeck Ransom! Hah! Mine beeg ears dey ain't stuffed ahp yet."

"What makes you think I want Jack?"

"Ain't eet you und heem been talking from how so many goils don't come home no more from aroundt Morris Street? Ain't eet Lena Hammerschlag she ees vun from dem? Hah? Abie de boy detecatiff you ken't fool."

"You brat! Get in there and call the ambulance. We'll need a stomach pump. She hasn't swallowed much of the starch and her heart's too weak for me to chance an emetic."

"Hah?"