The Paperback Show Murders by Robert Reginald

seen.’
    â€œâ€˜And nobody much cares, either. I don’t believe everything you’ve said, but still, I’ll take the assignment. There’s just one thing, though.’
    â€œâ€˜What’s that, Wednesday?’
    â€œâ€˜Well, actually,’ she said, puffing up her lips, ‘it’s not Wednesday, it’s Thursday, and you’re my assignment today.’ She spit the poison dart right between his eyes. He fell over head-first into his soufflé.
    â€œâ€˜Job one always comes first,’ she said to herself, smiling. ‘Mission accomplished!’ she bleeped into the button fastening the top of her blouse. She left the tab on the target’s bald spot, now made visible by his side-sliding wig.”
    â€”Wednesday ,
    by RonBob A. Haldane (1968)
    â€œLet me begin,” Pfisch said, “by saying that I don’t believe everything you’ve said, Ms. Foyle. There may be elements of truth rattling around in there, but having observed Mr. Dameen first-hand, I don’t think he could plan his way out of a paper bag. And while he might kill someone in a burst of anger, he’d be more likely to vomit all over them.
    â€œIt’s certainly possibly that his own death was just an accident; in fact, we’ve found nothing that would indicate to the contrary. I just find it suspicious that someone so intimately involved in all these proceedings would himself buy the farm right in the middle of things.
    â€œAnd someone clearly murdered Mr. van Noland. Curiously, even though the event seemed to take place right out in the open, so to speak, no one saw anything.
    â€œNow, you say that Ms. Boaz was killed because she wanted her books back.”
    â€œYes, that’s what Brody told me: she specifically wanted that particular novel, Castle Dred , that evening, because she had someone on the hook,” Gully said. “She was meeting someone later that night, and he had the impression that she expected to get a good price.”
    â€œBut she didn’t, did she?” Pfisch said.
    â€œNo, Brody had already arranged to sell it to Freddie.”
    â€œSo, what did he tell Ms. Boaz?”
    â€œWell, I don’t know exactly. He told me afterward that when he said he didn’t have it close by, she blew up at him, and threatened to call in the law.”
    â€œYou said originally that she was going to sue him.”
    â€œWell, maybe that too. He just indicated that she was really mad, and started making threats at him.”
    â€œSo, then he killed her,” the Lieutenant said.
    â€œThat’s what he said.”
    â€œHow, specifically?”
    â€œWell, didn’t he strangle her? That’s what I’ve been hearing,” she said.
    â€œHearing from who?” he asked.
    â€œWell, you know, from everyone.”
    â€œNot from Brody?”
    â€œWell, from him too, of course.”
    â€œWhat specifically did he say?” the policeman wanted to know.
    â€œSomething like, ‘She’s dead! I didn’t mean anything. She’s just…she’s dead!’ Then he grabbed a bottle and started chugging it.”
    â€œHe didn’t provide you with any details?”
    â€œNot that I remember.”
    â€œSo, why do you think that Mr. Dameen’s the murderer?”
    â€œWho else could it be? He had the book!”
    â€œDid you ever examine that novel yourself?” Pfisch asked.
    â€œI just glanced at it. It had some silly inscription on the title page. Didn’t pay much attention, really. Never saw what the fuss was all about.”
    â€œYou said the inscription was on the title page?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œBut Ms. Brittleback here—and several others, I might add—heard Ms. Boaz recite the inscription out loud, and they stated that it was clearly on the half-title page, or page one of the paperback.”
    â€œThey did?”
    â€œYes, they did.”
    â€œWell, maybe it