Stairway to Nowhere

by William F. Smith

Inspector Norman Goodenough descended the long, curved staircase that crossed over the narrow inlet and led to the garden patio on the lower side of the chasm. He stood on the flagstone terrace, facing the ocean, and contemplated the magnificence of his surroundings-- the cool green foliage of the trees, the shimmering blue water of the Pacific bay upon which the late afternoon sunbeams were creating thousands of golden crowns. The enthralling beauty did little to alleviate the inspector’s disgust with himself, and the brilliant day shed no light upon the most baffling mystery in his long, successful career.

Reluctantly he recrossed the stairs to the Huntington Château, stopping on the last step to regard what remained of the structure: the concrete foundation and the immense void which had been the basement. A robbery or a murder Goodenough knew he could solve. But this was impossible! Sometime during the preceding week the entire mansion had vanished, and he and his associates had not one single clue, not an inkling of how the feat had been accomplished.

Dejected, he pulled a small cell phone from his coat pocket and punched in a number. “Mr. Huntington? Inspector Goodenough here. I’m sorry, but we have been unable to find a trace of your château. I’m forced to admit that this case is beyond the talents of ordinary policemen.” He took a deep breath, then swallowed hard. “What you need is a good house detective.”

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William F. Smith's stories, humorous verse and photographs have appeared in Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine, Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine, Mike Shane Mystery Magazine and Reader’s Digest. His stories have been included in several anthologies.

 

The Duel

By William F. Smith

Unable to agree on their company’s future direction, two bickering business partners decided to settle their differences permanently by having a duel. Winner take all!

They were able to agree on weapons – revolvers – and a place – a deserted stretch of beach just where Old Ocean Road came to an abrupt end. There would be no seconds, no witnesses.

Howard Tucker was certain he would win because he considered himself an expert marksman who could knock the eye out of a gnat at sixty paces, the agreed-upon distance between the combatants when they would fire. He had never mentioned his skill to Jack Foxx, who considered himself an excellent shot.

“You go south and I’ll go north," Foxx said casually. “At thirty paces we’ll turn and fire.”

The two stood back to back, then began walking, Tucker counting the steps out loud. At twenty-five paces he sensed something wrong, turned around and shouted at Foxx, whom he shot through the heart as soon as the man turned to face him.

Foxx, dying, managed to raise his head to see Tucker sinking into the ground. Foxx had been sure he would win because he had arrived at the condemned beach well ahead of time and had removed all the warning signs. He knew that before Tucker completed thirty paces, the quicksand would suck him downward to death.

━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━
William F. Smith's stories, humorous verse and photographs have appeared in Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine, Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine, Mike Shane Mystery Magazine and Reader’s Digest. His stories have been included in several anthologies.