Small Felonies - Fifty Mystery Short Stories by Bill Pronzini

house had blown up because a spark touched off the gas, you'd have nobody to blame but yourself.
    So if you know what's good for you, you'll keep your veiled threats to yourself and stay on your side of the fence from now on. I don't have any more pets for you to poison anyway. There's nobody left over here, thanks to you, except me and my wife.
    Coombs
     
    Dear Poisoner,
    I've just come from Blanche's funeral.
    After the service I talked to one of the cops investigating her sudden death, and he said the coroner couldn't find any trace of poison in her body. He said she must have died of a heart attack. But you and I know better, don't we? You and I know a pharmacist like you has access to all sorts of undetectable poisons that can kill a poor woman just as easily as goldfish and dogs.
    Blanche and I weren't what you'd call close these past few years but I was used to having her around. Besides, she was my wife. When a man's wife is killed he's supposed to do something about it.
    I intend to do something, all right. And soon, real soon. I'm working on the problem right now.
    Coombs
     
    Dear Dead Poisoner,
    Hah! They say revenge is sweet, and are they ever right! I never had a sweeter taste in my mouth than I do at this moment.
    I wish you could read this, Fentress. I wish there was a way to get it to you. But then, down where you are the flames would burn up the paper before you had a chance to read it. Hah!
    I saw the whole thing happen, you know. I was hiding in the bushes in my front yard, at a safe distance, when you came out and got into your car to drive to that drugstore of yours. I watched you buckle your seat belt, I watched you insert the key in the ignition, I watched you turn the key . . . boom! It really was a terrific explosion. In more ways than one.
    You didn't know I worked one summer using dynamite to blast tree stumps, did you?
    Oh, the police suspect me, of course. But they can't prove a thing. Any more than I could prove you were responsible for what happened to my fish and my dog and my wife.
    Perfect irony, eh, Fentress?
    Yes indeed, revenge is so sweet. He who laughs last really does laugh best.
    I believe I'll drink a toast to that. And to you, my never-dear departed neighbor. Some of my twenty-year-old Scotch, I think. I've been saving it for just such a special occasion as this.
    Ahh! Smooth as silk going down.
    That's funny. It's burning in my throat, my chest . . . No! No, you couldn't have, it isn't possible—
    Poison? In my best Scotch?
    Fentress, you damned lunatic—

THIRST
     
    M arch said, "We're going to die out here, Flake."
    "Don't talk like that."
    "I don't want to die this way."
    "You're not going to die."
    "I don't want to die of thirst, Flake!"
    "There are worse ways."
    "No, no, there's no worse way."
    "Quit thinking about it."
    "How much water is left?"
    "A couple of swallows apiece, that's all."
    "Let me have my share. My throat's on fire!"
    Flake stopped slogging forward and squinted at March for a few seconds. He took the last of the canteens from his shoulder, unscrewed the cap, and drank two mouthfuls to make sure he got them. Then he handed the canteen to March.
    March took it with nerveless fingers. He sank to his knees in the reddish desert sand, his throat working spasmodically as he drank. When he had licked away the last drop he cradled the canteen to his chest and knelt there rocking with it.
    Flake watched him dispassionately. "Come on, get up."
    "What's the use? There's no more water. We're going to die of thirst."
    "I told you to shut up about that."
    March looked up at him with eyes like a wounded animal's. "You think he made it, Flake?"
    "Who, Brennan?"
    "Yes, Brennan."
    "What do you want to think about him for?"
    "He didn't take all the gasoline for the jeep."
    "He had enough."
    March whimpered, "Why, Flake? Why'd he do it?"
    "Why the hell you think he did it?"
    "Those deposits we found are rich, the ore samples proved that—sure. But there's more than enough