Once Upon a Crime (1998) Anthology by Ed Gorman Martin H Greenberg

Author:Ed Gorman, Martin H Greenberg [Ed Gorman, Martin H Greenberg]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

JOHN LUTZ

Swan Song

In the past few years, critics have started to appreciate John Lutz and the wide diversity of his talents. While his novels center on the dour Fred Carver or the dogged Alo Nudger, his short fiction spans a range of story forms and types. Here is another unexpected tale from the author of SWF Seeks Same, the basis for the hit movie Single White Female. In his story, he turns the Grimms’ Seven Swans into seven country and western singers and weaves a masterful plot along with them.

“Photographs don’t mean a thing,” Tony King said, with the casualness of a man who’d had three drinks for lunch. “Everybody knows they can be faked and often are, especially photos like the one you described. I’ll just deny I ever knew the young lady, and since she’s dead, nobody will be able to prove otherwise.”

They were sitting in the Deco Lounge in Nashville, in a booth where they might see and be seen. Tony was sure Willa Witcher wanted it that way, wanted him to feel embarrassment over what was no more than a long-ago sexual peccadillo with a woman he had no idea at the time was not only married but also the wife of a powerful southern governor. And, of course, it would do no good to tell Willa he’d actually loved the woman and had plans for their future together.

Willa was one of the most feared and relentlessly scheming agents in the country music industry. Part of it was her appearance. She was a tall, gaunt woman with a hatchet face and intense dark eyes that could melt cheese. The other reason for the fear was that she was clever and ruthless almost beyond belief.

But Tony wasn’t worried. The photo of him in flagrante with the woman, who’d since died of a drug overdose, would do little harm to his reputation or career in the sorts of places it would be published, the publications that also featured photos of aliens, Elvis apparitions, and children born with the heads of animals. So despite his three Dixie beers—he’d switched from martinis when he’d decided to give up crooning and go country and western—

Tony didn’t see why Willa was bringing up this tragic matter she’d somehow learned about. Tony stretched out his jeaned legs beneath the table, crossed his ostrich-skin cowboy boots at the ankles, and smiled confidently at her.

She smiled confidently back. “I’m offering you the negative,” she said.

Tony felt his heart dive into dark water. A photo was one thing; a negative was something much more damaging and dangerous. “The developer has the negative,” he said, hearing the fear in his voice, as if he were trying to convince himself of what he was saying.

“Not anymore. I have it.”

He knew it wasn’t in her character to bluff. “What do you want, Willa?”

“To be your agent. To represent the great Tony King. You’re past your prime and half pickled in alcohol, but still believable as a handsome Italian cowboy—if there ever was such a thing.

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