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- Herausgeber: Al-Mashreq eBookstore
- Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
- Serie: Doc. Turner Series
- Sprache: Englisch
Death's Dancing School by Arthur Leo Zagat is a mesmerizing blend of mystery and supernatural suspense. In an exclusive dance academy where elegance meets the occult, students are not just perfecting their art—they're unwittingly stepping into a deadly game orchestrated by a malevolent force. As mysterious accidents and strange disappearances plague the school, a determined investigator uncovers a sinister plot linked to an ancient and dark tradition. With each twist, the stakes rise higher and the danger becomes more personal. Can the investigator unveil the chilling truth before the academy's final performance turns into a macabre display of death? Step into the eerie and enthralling world of Death's Dancing School, where the dance of death is just beginning.
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Seitenzahl: 27
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024
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Table of Contents
Death's Dancing School
Synopsis
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Landmarks
Table of Contents
Cover
Death's Dancing School
Synopsis
When little Jimmy Orling told Doc Turner his sister's secret—that she would soon be rich—Doc suspected a plot against the fairest maidens of the slums... Two lead-blasted young bodies told Doc, tragically, that he was right!
The Spider, February 1940, with "Death's Dancing School"
1
DOWN where the elevated tracks roof Morris Street, electric bulbs high-hung over the pushcarts were like individual small suns, each glaring down on its own tiny hillside farm. Here a miniature slope of scarlet peppers, dark green cress, and creamy gourds bulging with pungent cheese was tended by a swarthy Sicilian. Next in line, a sloe-eyed Armenian hawked frothy laces and vivid-hued Oriental rugs. Further along the thronged sidewalks of the slum thoroughfare, shawled Galician crones knowingly pinched the produce offered by a curly haired Greek from the Peloponnesus. At the curb in front of Andrew Turner's corner drugstore a round-faced Slav haggled with a bearded Hebrew patriarch over a pair of sleazy suspenders.
Hucksters raucously cried their wares, tattered gamins screamed in raucous play, trucks honked for passage. This was a typical Morris Street Saturday night.
From the doorway of his ancient pharmacy, Doc Turner's faded blue eyes, in which there was more than a hint of worry, surveyed the familiar scene. The little, white-haired old man seemed to be sniffing, through the heavy odors of over-ripe fruit, some evasive but sinister scent.
Like that which warns a veteran shepherd-dog of the wolf-pack gathering in distant hills, some obscure instinct presaged to the aged pharmacist a new menace threatening these people he had long protected from those meanest of criminals—the wily ones who prey on the very poor.
A tow-headed urchin pushed through the shifting throng, eagerly offering paper shopping bags for two cents each. "Hello, Jimmie," Turner called to him. "How's business?"
The ten year-old stopped, hitched up trousers which immediately sagged on to dirt-smeared, bare shins. "Pretty good, Doc," he grinned. "I took in twenty-four cents already tonight."
"That's grand," the druggist applauded. "You keep that up and you'll be a rich man when you grow up."
"Aw, shucks. We're gonna be rich long before I grow up." Jimmy Orling's scrawny shoulders straightened. "You just wait till Sue—cripes," he interrupted himself. "I'm not supposed to say nothin'—Well, I got to be hustlin' along." He turned away.
Doc grasped a pipe-stem arm. "Jimmie," the old man asked, low-toned. "What were you going to say? What's the big secret about what's going to make you and your sister rich?"
The freckled small face was abruptly mask-like, the frank grey eyes suddenly veiled. "Nothin', Doc. I was just shootin' off my mouth."
"Jimmie!" He was squirming, tugging to get away. "Where has Sue been the last four or five days? I haven't seen her around."
