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- Herausgeber: Al-Mashreq eBookstore
- Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
- Serie: Doc. Turner Series
- Sprache: Englisch
The Crimson Coffin by Arthur Leo Zagat is a spine-chilling thriller that will keep you riveted from start to finish. When a series of gruesome murders are linked to an ominous crimson coffin, a brilliant detective must delve into a web of secrets and dark rituals. As he uncovers clues that lead to a shadowy cult and a sinister plot, he realizes that the true horror lies not just in the murders but in the malevolent force behind them. Can he solve the mystery before the coffin claims more lives, or will he become the next victim of its deadly curse? Dive into this electrifying mystery where every revelation brings you closer to the heart of terror.
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Seitenzahl: 26
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024
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Table of Contents
The Crimson Coffin
Synopsis
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Landmarks
Table of Contents
Cover
The Crimson Coffin
Synopsis
Into Doc Turner's little settlement drove that terrible hearse with its death-trap for the poor—a flaming crimson coffin. Only the little druggist could beat this ruthless racket—by making a corpse rise, of its own volition, from the grave!
The Spider, November 1937, with "Doc Turner and the Crimson Coffin"
1
MORRIS STREET, roofed by the serried black ties of the "El," walled by dingy tenement fronts, floored by debris-strewn cobbles, was a long tunnel of drabness. Even the scarlet of radishes and tomatoes heaped on the pushcarts that lined its curbs, the emerald of lettuce and cabbage-heads, the brown-spotted yellow of bananas, served only to high-light the dim and brooding street.
A grey and feeble figure, Andrew Turner stood in the doorway of his drugstore and watched from beneath bushy white brows the shifting panorama of the slum.
Deepening dusk, elsewhere melancholy enough, seemed here a slow settling of doom. The old druggist felt in his bones the vague unease, an evasive sense that something was deadly wrong. The seams of age etched his face more deeply, so that its kindliness was bleakly masked.
There beat about Doc the brawling tumult to which he had become accustomed through long years—the harsh shouts of the hucksters, the pounding rush of traffic, the shrill screams of half-clad, grimy youngsters at play in the hazardous gutter, the polyglot chatter of their alien elders for whom a golden promise had faded into the reality of poverty and unremitting toil. To the nostrils of his great, bony nose came the compound odor of garbage and sweat of unwashed bodies, and breath odorous with exotic foods. Everything was as it always was, yet deep in Doc Turner's bleared, blue eyes crawled a secret anxiety, and they were keenly watchful.
He was the only friend of those who were bewildered strangers in a strange land. He was their adviser, their interpreter of customs they did not understand. And he was more.
Among those who live without the law there are those who batten only upon the very poor because they are ignorant and helpless. Human rodents are these, without courage but shrewd and ruthless and, if cornered, more vicious than their braver fellows. Against them, Andrew Turner protected his people. Against them, he waged an unremitting war and, as to every hunter, whether of beasts or of men, there had come to him an inexplicable instinct for their evil presence, an awareness of their depredations depending upon no concrete evidence but as sure as if he watched them at their nefarious work.
This instinct was warning him now. Something was wrong on Morris Street. There was work for him to do.
But what?
