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Murders in the Rue Morgue

by Edgar Allan Poe - Complete story free, ready to print

Murders in the Rue Morgue - Complete story text


About The Murders in the Rue Morgue

Mystery and crime stories as we know them today did not emerge until the mid-nineteenth century when
Edgar Allan Poe introduced mystery fiction's first fictional detective, Auguste C. Dupin, in his 1841 story,
"The Murders in the Rue Morgue." The acknowledged father of the mystery story, Poe continued Dupin's
exploits in novels such as The Mystery of Marie Roget (1842) and The Purloined Letter (1845).

Edgar Allan Poe


Murders in the Rue Morgue
Edgar Allan Poe Books

Mystery Time Line

Welcome

Mystery Time Line Profiles


History of the Mystery
Cicero
Edgar Allan Poe
Sherlock Holmes
Agatha Christie
Dorothy L. Sayers
Ellery Queen
Dashiell Hammett
Charlie Chan
Perry Mason
The Shadow
The Saint
Ed McBain
Nancy Drew

Mystery Greats Websites


Agatha Christie
Nancy Drew
Alfred Hitchcock
Charlie Chan
Clue Chronicles

"The Murders in the Rue Morgue" is the most famous example of a mystery style known as the locked room,
in which "a murder victim is found inside an apparently sealed enclosure and the detective's challenge is to
discover the murderer's modus operandi." (Crime Classics)

Edgar Allan Poe was one of the first to shift the focus of mystery stories from the description of shocking
events and eerie setting to a "study of the criminal's mind." (Crime Classics)

You may also enjoy MysteryNet's profile of Edgar Allan Poe.


How Not to Spell Edgar Allen Poe: If you're looking for Edgar Allen Poe, Edger Allan Poe, Edger Allen Poe,
see Mystery Net's profile of Edgar Allan Poe. If you're looking for The Murders in the Rue Moruge, Murder in
the Rue Morg, read it on Mystery Net: Murders in the Rue Morgue.

Twist
Suspense short stories with a twist

"The Other Woman" by Kate Thornton


Twist #316 - December 2010

Originally appeared Aug. 2006


(Page 1 of 3)

Privacy Info
Previous Twist
Anything for the Chief

S andy is beautiful, I'll give her that. And talented and witty and a lot of other things I am not. I guess I
lost my looks some time ago. But I have managed to keep Joe interested in me all these years and I'm not
going to give up on him now.

Oh, I know what you're thinking. And it's true, of course. He never has been able to stay very long with
just one woman. Why he's even been married three times, although that first one was a high school
sweetheart thing and it's no wonder that didn't work out. They were only kids, for crying out loud. He didn't
even meet me until after he was divorced from her. And cops, you know, they have a pretty bad track record
in the marriage department anyway.
But I know it's me he really loves. And Sandy-- well, I thought if I just waited it out like the others, he'd
eventually come back to me like always. Only Sandy has me worried. It looks like maybe he's really
interested in her, and after all this time I just can't imagine life without Joe.

He hasn't said anything about it to me. He wouldn't. But I see what's happening all the same. He tells me
he has to work late, and the next day

I hear he was out on the town with her. And he even forgot my birthday this year, the first time ever. He
said he was sorry, and he gave me a really nice present, but I knew. It was Sandy again.

And then on our anniversary, our special day, he called and said he'd have to go to some police
convention or something and could we celebrate when he got back. Only there was no police convention.
He went on a three-day cruise with Sandy. I found the credit card receipt in his wallet when he got back.

Yes, that's what I am reduced to - snooping through his things when he's in the bathroom. I am
embarrassed and ashamed, but what can I do? I know

I'm losing him and I can't stand it.


W e weren't really friends. Cohorts maybe. Thrown together in a small town, with no other boys our
own age, we got into mischief together.

Nothing unusual, just ordinary kid trouble that we always faced together, thus cementing our relationship.

Now, forty-some years later, I find that Tom has siphoned off our income, leveraging the winery, and the
vineyard, for increasingly bigger "improvement" loans, $300,000 of which went to his private account in
Belize.

His part in our business was to run the winery and accounting, whereas my responsibility was the
vineyard operations.

I found out about this because being in serious personal financial trouble, I was unable to sleep last night.
I got out of bed, went to the office, and for once, really looked at the books to see if we were healthy enough
that I might beg Tom to let the company bail me out. As I found item after item where he had siphoned off
the $300,000 leaving our company broke, my shock turned to fury.

I waited for him to arrive in the morning.

Upon confronting him, we fought, and as usual I lost. He trussed me up; the man never could tie a decent
knot, but had plenty of rope to make up the difference, and cleared out what was in our safe. One item I
could see was a plane ticket, no doubt to Belize.

"You always were a weakling, and a little slow, physically and mentally," he said. He gave me a two
fingered salute, and headed for the door. "Goodbye, brother, have a good life."
He was right. He was always stronger and quicker than me. But one thing about me that he didn't know
was that I am a compulsive gambler. I don't know how I got that way, it just sort of crept up on me over the
years. I've gambled away every cent that I've ever owned, and I owe the "people" from New York serious
money.

Earlier last night, a seedy little guy from whom I sometimes buy gambling tips approached me with
literally the tip of my life. New York had decided that I didn't have the ability to repay their money, so had
issued a contract out on me. Plans were for the execution of the contract to take place this morning, as I left
the office for my usual Wednesday morning workout at the local gym.

Let's see, according to the clock on the wall, that would be about right now.

Well, what are identical twins good for anyway?

Gee, he sure used a lot of knots.

Come back next month


for another Flash mini-mystery!

Discuss this mystery


What did you like about it?

"Death of a Scrooge" by Hy Conrad


See-n-Solve #118 - December 2010

Orig. appeared Dec. 2000


Mystery

Privacy Info
Background
Learn about Amy and Harry Silver
Previous
"Death of an Ice Princess"
A wayward wife. A jealous husband. Who's behind the Death of an Ice Princess?
E very neighborhood has its resident curmudgeon, some dyspeptic homeowner whose job it is to yell
at noisy children and call the police about dogs in the flowerbeds. In Amy's youth, that role had been played
by Mr. Weaver, a bachelor living in the area's largest, finest house.

It was now a few days before Christmas, and Amy was shocked to see holiday decorations going up on
the Weaver house. She approached a boy of about 20 who was stringing the lights. "Does Mr. Weaver still
live here?" she asked hesitantly.

"Sure does," he said. "I'm just the hired help. Buck Anderson."

"Amy Silver!" shouted a familiar voice. Amy had to resist the childhood reflex to turn and run.

Edgar Weaver stood in the doorway, older now, and with an uncharacteristic smile. "Amy. Good to see
you. Come step inside for a little Christmas cheer."

Amy's perplexed reaction made the old man laugh. "I know. Scrooge sees the light. But it's true. Couple
weeks ago, I had this dream, like Scrooge, and it changed me. I've been sour and selfish for so many years.
I thought Christmas would be the perfect season to start fresh."

Old man Weaver escorted Amy into a living room decorated for the season. Christmas carols played on
an old turntable.

"My sister out in California always sends me a photo card of her family." He pointed to half a dozen cards
hanging from the mantle. "A pretty pathetic collection of Christmas cards this year. But wait till next. I'll be a
regular Santa. I'm already starting."

Edgar and Amy strolled to the kitchen at the rear of the house, where they found two young women and a
man laughing and cooking dinner. "Amy, these are my nieces and my nephew. Three out of four, anyway. I
haven't been in touch with any of my family in 10 years."

Amy was introduced to the jovial trio: Jonathan, Rhoda, and Ginger.

"I can't believe we live so close and we never got to know Uncle Eddy." Ginger gave the old man a hug.

Edgar almost blushed. "Right after my dream, I got in touch with everyone. Begged their forgiveness for
my stingy, solitary ways. Then I hired Buck to help fix up the old mausoleum."

"Looks like a celebration," Amy said, eyeing the roast and the champagne bucket on the counter.

"We're celebrating our inheritance," Rhoda crowed.

"Yep. I changed my will," Edgar confirmed. "Everything split between my nieces and nephews. Amy," he
added with sudden inspiration, "will you join us for dinner? Please. As an apology for confiscating your
football. And your baseball. And..."

Amy accepted, on the condition that she be allowed to help cook.

"Great," Edgar said. "And while you're cooking, I'll finish trimming the tree."

Jonathan volunteered to help, but Edgar insisted on doing it alone. "Someone was telling me about their
family tradition. The patriarch decorates the tree by himself, then gathers everyone together for a Christmas
toast. A great idea."
Amy turned out to be the best cook of the bunch and before she knew it, she was alone in the kitchen,
making the gravy and starting the vegetables.

After a few minutes, she began to feel uncomfortable. Here she was in old man Weaver's kitchen,
cooking for a family of strangers. "Hello!" Amy turned down the heat and walked into the dining room.

A crash reverberated through the house, momentarily drowning out the carols. Something had fallen.
Amy's first thought was the Christmas tree, and she headed straight for the living room.

Illustrations by Josh Neufeld


Murders in the Rue Morgue
by Edgar Allan Poe - Complete story free, ready to print

Murders in the Rue Morgue - Complete story text


About The Murders in the Rue Morgue

Mystery and crime stories as we know them today did not emerge until the mid-nineteenth century when
Edgar Allan Poe introduced mystery fiction's first fictional detective, Auguste C. Dupin, in his 1841 story,
"The Murders in the Rue Morgue." The acknowledged father of the mystery story, Poe continued Dupin's
exploits in novels such as The Mystery of Marie Roget (1842) and The Purloined Letter (1845).

Edgar Allan Poe


Murders in the Rue Morgue
Edgar Allan Poe Books

Mystery Time Line

Welcome

Mystery Time Line Profiles


History of the Mystery
Cicero
Edgar Allan Poe
Sherlock Holmes
Agatha Christie
Dorothy L. Sayers
Ellery Queen
Dashiell Hammett
Charlie Chan
Perry Mason
The Shadow
The Saint
Ed McBain
Nancy Drew

Mystery Greats Websites


Agatha Christie
Nancy Drew
Alfred Hitchcock
Charlie Chan
Clue Chronicles

"The Murders in the Rue Morgue" is the most famous example of a mystery style known as the locked room,
in which "a murder victim is found inside an apparently sealed enclosure and the detective's challenge is to
discover the murderer's modus operandi." (Crime Classics)
Edgar Allan Poe was one of the first to shift the focus of mystery stories from the description of shocking
events and eerie setting to a "study of the criminal's mind." (Crime Classics)

You may also enjoy MysteryNet's profile of Edgar Allan Poe.

How Not to Spell Edgar Allen Poe: If you're looking for Edgar Allen Poe, Edger Allan Poe, Edger Allen Poe,
see Mystery Net's profile of Edgar Allan Poe. If you're looking for The Murders in the Rue Moruge, Murder in
the Rue Morg, read it on Mystery Net: Murders in the Rue Morgue.