Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 140, Nos. 3 & 4. Whole Nos. 853 & 854, September/October 2012

Last Laugh by Michael Z. Lewin

Michael Z. Lewin is a longtime contributor to EQMM and AHMM, and his short stories appear in many other publications as well. We congratulate him on his recent nomination from the International Thriller Writers for best story of 2011 for “Anything to Win” (The Strand). Another bit of news related to his short stories: Family Trio, a collection of three of the “Lunghi family” tales (two of which appeared in EQMM) is now available on Kindle. And if you’re a fan of the Lunghi series, you also won’t want to miss the latest novel, Family Way.

“You havin’ fun? If you’re havin’ fun, say ‘Yeah, Bob!’”

The audience said, “Yeah, Bob,” and the show was under way.

The gray, grizzled comic prowled the small stage. “I like this town. You know why? Because the people are so friendly.” He picked out a young woman whose seat was in the front row. “Soo, pretty lady? Are you gonna be friendly?”

The young woman shrugged.

“Oh, don’t be shy,” Bob said. “In comedy, if you’re sittin’ in the front row, then you’re part of the show. So, tell us, sweetie, what’s your name?”

“Julie.”

“And where you from, Julie?”

“Here, in town.”

“And what do you do for a living?”

“I’m a librarian.”

“Hey hey! I guess librarians sure don’t look the way they used to.”

“Neither do libraries,” Julie said. “Or maybe you’ve never been inside one.” The audience enjoyed this sign of resistance to the comic.

“Well well,” Bob said. “Looks like we’ve got us a live one here.”

“I’ve been in a library.”

All eyes turned to a young man on the opposite side of the stage. He wore a red baseball cap and a red T-shirt and stood as Bob turned to him.

“And just who are you?” Bob asked.

“Wayne Walcot,” the young man said. “And so far, Julie’s been funnier than you have, Bob.”

“Well, let’s see if I can fix that.”

“Before you start on me, would you do me a favor and ask Julie if she’s single? And tell her I’m staying at the Lansdown Hotel, if she’s interested.”

This drew another appreciative response from the crowd, but Bob approached the newcomer like a vulture approaches dead meat.

At about one in the morning, Wayne Walcot was watching TV in his hotel room when there was a knock at the door.

Walcot turned the TV off, and checked his hair and his red T-shirt in a mirror. “Who is it?”

“Police. Open the door, please.”

In the hall he found a tall woman who held up a badge. “I’m Detective Porter,” the woman said. Behind her was a male officer in uniform. “Are you Wayne Walcot?”

“Jeez, can’t you guys even give me twenty-four hours?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I only got out of prison this morning.”

“Oh yes? What were you in for?”

“Like you don’t know.”

“Humor me,” Detective Porter said.

Wayne Walcot rubbed his face tiredly. “There was a ruckus in a bar and some jerk got stabbed and kind of died. The rest of the guys in the bar saved their own skins by saying that I did it.”

“And of course you didn’t.”

“Does it matter now? I’ve done my six years. But before I can turn around, surprise surprise, I’ve got cops in my face.”

“Cops who want to know where you were tonight.”

Walcot sighed. “I was at the Yuk-Yuk Comedy Club.”

“On your first night after being let out of prison?” The police officers looked at each other.

“I needed cheering up.”

“And did anybody see you there?”

“WelI... I suppose... about two hundred people did. So what’s this about?”

“It’s about your uncle.” Porter read from her notes. “David Walcot.”

“Uncle Dave? He send you here to run me out of town?”

“You don’t get along with your uncle?”

“He didn’t visit me in prison, let’s put it that way.”

“Well, your uncle was found dead in his home about an hour and a half ago.”

“Dead?” Wayne Walcot looked shocked.

“His body was at the bottom of a flight of stairs.”

“He... fell?”

“There was a baseball bat by his head. It had blood on it.”

“Are you saying... he was... murdered?”

“We believe he interrupted a robbery. Didn’t he have a reputation for keeping a lot of cash in his house?”

“I couldn’t tell you — I’ve been away.”

“Well, guess what? We found your name and the name of this hotel on a pad of paper by his telephone. Quite a coincidence, don’t you think?”

“I called him. I was going to see him tomorrow. I... was going to ask him for help getting a job.”

“Even though he didn’t like you?”

“I’m not in a position to be choosy, am I? And I tell you, there’s a dozen people who hated the old miser worse than me. Try his son, Ollie. Or his last ex-wife. And everybody knows he’s got kids around the state he’s never acknowledged or supported. And then there’s his so-called business partners.”

“Slow down, slow down,” Detective Porter said. “I can’t write that fast.”

Once the police left the room, Wayne Walcot left it too.

But he didn’t go outside. He went to another room in the hotel where a young man about his own age and size let him in. “Where you been?” Eddie Jones said.

“I just had the cops in my room,” Walcot said. They seem to think I killed my Uncle Dave.”

“He’s dead?”

“They say he interrupted a robbery. But I’m sure he was breathing when I left him. Still, I suppose they know dead when they see it.”

Jones considered this for a moment. “Bummer.”

“It doesn’t bother you?”

“He was never a father to me. And my mom will open a bottle of champagne when she hears.”

“Well, make sure it’s the real stuff.” Wayne Walcot passed over a wad of cash.

Jones kissed the roll of banknotes. “Sweet...”

“And you’ve got something for me, I believe.”

Jones handed him a T-shirt and a baseball cap, both red. “Wouldn’t want too many of these knocking around,” Walcot said. “How was it at the club?”

“Just the way you said it would be. The so-called funny guy started in on a librarian. A bit of a babe, as a matter of fact.”

“And then?”

“I stood up, told him he wasn’t funny. He turned on me right away, used your name over and over. It’s cool, Wayne. Your alibi’s cast-iron.”

“Now, get out of here, Eddie.”

“On my way. I’ll be gone by the morning.”

“Why wait till then?”

“First, I got me a date. Cute little librarian by the name of Julie.”

Copyright © 2012 by Michael Z. Lewin