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- Herausgeber: Al-Mashreq eBookstore
- Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
- Serie: Doc. Turner Series
- Sprache: Englisch
The Heads of Death by Arthur Leo Zagat is a spine-chilling thriller that will grip you from the first page. In a city plagued by a series of gruesome murders, each victim is found with a cryptic symbol carved into their skin. The only clue linking these murders is a mysterious figure known only as "The Heads of Death," whose true motives remain hidden. As a relentless detective races against time to catch the killer, dark secrets and chilling revelations come to light, leading to a shocking climax. Prepare for a heart-pounding journey through a labyrinth of fear and deception in this masterfully crafted tale of suspense.
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Seitenzahl: 29
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024
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Table of Contents
The Heads of Death
Synopsis
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Landmarks
Table of Contents
Cover
The Heads of Death
Synopsis
Why did the slum-folk of Morris Street cringe at the sight of beautiful Nanya Karista? Doc Turner understood their fear only after the tired old druggist had tracked Nanya to the lair of the Old Ones—where the dread witchcraft of savage jungles held full, hypnotic sway!
The Spider, January 1941, with "Doc Turner and the Heads of Death"
1
THE frail beauty of Nanya Karista was incongruous with her slum surroundings. It was like a delicate spray of Queen Anne's Lace, Doc Turner thought, in a field overgrown with weeds. A brief smile brushed the lips under his silvery mustache. He was pleased with the fancy that came to him as his faded blue eyes watched the girl across the street. Strange, lovely, Nanya Karista...
The old druggist had never before realized how much there was in common between Morris Street and some steaming equatorial jungle. The shadows of the "El" on the dusk-darkened cobbles might well be cast by towering tropic foliage. The jungle's garish colors were matched by the yellows of the lemons piled on the pushcarts lining the curbs, the crimson of the tomatoes, the brilliant greens of the spinach and lettuce and cabbage heads. The hucksters' cries were as raucous as the squawks of parrots and macaws. The polyglot chatter of the alien crowd was like the jabber of a monkey troop.
In the moment before he had glimpsed Nanya Karista come out of Hogbund Lane, Doc Turner's broad forehead had been lined deep with troubled speculation. The sixth sense born of his long years of befriending the friendless people of this slum had warned him that the black pall of some new dread hung over them. He was standing before the door of his ancient pharmacy in the hope that some chance word overheard, some impulsive confidence from one of the many who loved and trusted him, might give him a clue to its source.
But the stocky, swart-complexioned men plodding wearily homeward from factory or ditch, the shawled housewives bargain-hunting from cart to cart, had greeted him only briefly and hurried on. It was precisely this furtive haste, this obvious avoidance of talk with him, that confirmed Doc's feeling of something wrong, deadly wrong, on Morris Street.
He had lived among, served, these people for too many years, had abandoned too often his role of pharmacist to battle the many schemers who prey upon the helpless poor, not to know their habits. They had brought here from the four corners of the earth different folkways, but in one they were all alike. Threatened, afraid, they hugged their fear to themselves and no one not of their own kind, not even Doc Turner, could penetrate the curtain of silence they drew over their dread.
Across the street, Nanya Karista reached the curb. Doc gasped!
Without a moment's hesitation, the girl had stepped out into the stream of hurtling trucks and cars!
