The April Robin Murders
Ed McBain, Craig Rice
Two zany street photographers in Hollywood--caught in a deluge of mirth and murder.
Craig Rice and Ed McBain The April Robin Murders one The water in the oblong swimming pool of the Skylight Motel was that brilliant blue-green color Bingo Riggs had seen pictured in magazines, but had never quite believed. Yet here it was, the same delicious but probably fraudulent blue of the illustrations, and here he was beside it, comfortably reclining on a wheeled mattress-and-wicker affair which someone had informed him was a loafer-lounge—and this, at last, was Hollywood. It
abyss of shadows. Another switch clicked, and a half dozen wall brackets, designed to imitate candles in antique holders, added their yellowish glow. They only served to make the small furnished island in front of the fireplace seem more isolated and small. Bingo glanced up to where, seemingly a vast distance above them, a wrought-iron chandelier held more imitation candles, a lot of them. “I wonder what turns that on.” Apparently nothing did. Handsome tried every switch in sight,
Sunset Strip. “Handsome!” Bingo said reprovingly. “She’s not old. Just mature.” He added, “And very well preserved, too.” “Okay, Bingo,” Handsome said. He turned expertly up Fairfax Avenue. “Only she remembered reading in the newspapers about Floyd Collins. Which was in 1925.” “I don’t care if she remembers reading about the San Francisco earthquake,” Bingo said, “and I don’t remember what year that was.” “1906,” Handsome said. “And she couldn’t have—” “She was very polite to us,” Bingo
Bingo hissed. “We’ve got to do this big or not at all.” He handed over what was nearly half of the remaining bankroll. “Just a few blocks up the street—and make it fast—” Handsome made the “okay” sign and said, “I’ll bring it in the back way.” Bingo came back, sat down, smiled and said, “Nothing to do with this. Can’t think of everything, though. Just some important chemicals to be picked up.” Arthur Schlee said, “I’ve been giving considerable thought to our problem. Regarding the ownership of
unwavering and made the mission absolutely crystal-clear. “Well,” Bingo said, and he had to admit to himself that the sight of the steady pistol aimed at his midsection was somewhat unnerving. Handsome said, “April Robin.” It was amazing how beautiful she was, Bingo thought. Even with the nose-bob—which was an expert job, but which gave her face a slightly Irish cast that didn’t quite fit with the rest of it—even with that, she was an incredibly gorgeous woman. He had to keep reminding himself